THE AWESOME LAVRATT
Or
The Cloying Memories of a Mind Gone Mad
By Ann Wilkes
Art by Tennielle
Part Two
Click our annals for part one of this far out fantasy
Those poor unsuspecting people…
“We will be welcomed, revered and adored.” That's what Aranna told Horace as they neared the Umlar system. He knew she controlled him through the Awesome Lavratt but had found no way to stop her. Truth be told, he didn't even want to. He wanted to follow this beautiful creature to the ends of the universe. If only he could conquer his nagging doubt.
***
“Oh, but Horace, why so grim? We will rule together, you and I. You shall be my King.”
“We'll see. Listen, Aranna, why not turn this thing in to someone who can use it to bring peace to war-torn planets? Or communicate with autistics and deaf mutes or something?”
“Horace, how can you say such a thing? Who knows what uses it might be put to in the wrong hands. Whom could we trust with such power?”
No one. Not even you, He thought.
“Why won't you trust me?”
Absolute power corrupts absolutely.
The ship decelerated into communications range with the one settled planet in the system.
“So what do we do? Just land and say ‘hi'?”
Why not? she thought at him.
Privacy was a thing of the past—ever since Horace picked up the brain wave amplifying device on that cursed freighter in his quiet salvage yard on the galactic rim. Now he was her accomplice, her consort, her fool. She possessed the missing piece to the little harmless looking cube, and with it in place…
Horace contemplated losing her on the planet below. He felt like a yoyo. One minute, he adored her. The next, he didn't trust her or his feelings.
“I know your every thought, my love. You can't leave me. And why would you want to? Don't you find me attractive? Don't I please you?” She looked at Horace, eyelashes batting.
“You already know the answers to all of your questions so why even bother asking them?”
“A girl likes to hear it. Even if she already feels it. Oh Horace. I am sorry. I'll try not to probe your thoughts. I'm just so eager to hear what you have to say.”
Aranna needed no one and everyone. Horace was the last male she saw when the Lavratt came into her hands. She could have taken it from him when he brought it aboard her ship. She could have taken it and left him there but she didn't.
“Let's land Aranna. We'll just figure it out as we go along and everything will be all right,” he said as he put his arm around her. She kissed him and smiled.
The spaceport granted Aranna permission to land without hesitation (what a surprise!).
Horace helped her with the last system checks before landing. They strapped into their seats and Aranna reached a hand out to his as they hit the atmosphere. He squeezed it.
Horace snickered to himself as he thought of an old 2D vid science fiction movie from Old Earth. Aranna had never seen it and missed the significance. She didn't laugh. She just looked at him for an explanation. Horace marked that moment with great interest. He had a complete enough memory of the vid but she didn't get enough of it to understand the connection. He tried to bury this thought in the far reaches of his grey matter, somewhere out of her reach, by simply willing it there.
Aranna jerked her head around at him as if she felt his futile attempt at evasion. Then her expression changed to one of a slantac that had just eaten a juicy valnsa.
After a smooth landing they unstrapped and checked the sensors and the view window. The thin atmosphere warranted supplemental oxygen. The temperature averaged 28º Celsius during the summer months.
“What do we know about Calistania?” asked Horace as they descended to the ground level hatch.
“They achieved intrasystem travel two decades ago. An Emperor rules the entire planet, though they still have their share of infighting. They reverted to a limited planetary monarchy after all of their collective attempts at democracy ended in disaster.”
Horace knew instantly why Aranna picked this place. A global monarchy.
The sunshine blinded them for a moment when the hatch slid open. A delegation of three men and one woman, all in flowing colorful tunics and shiny boots strode toward them, with a confident air, from the spaceport terminal. The shortest man took the lead and offered a Calistania greeting of hands pressed together in front of him and then opening out as in offering a gift.
“Welcome, most illustrious Princess Navna. I am Ambassador Janic, Emperor Duplici's ambassador for this region of Cavna, and these are my associates. Felta, my personal aide and protocol specialist,” he said gesturing to the woman, “and Ranic, the Emmisary of Good Will and Hospitality and Crana, this city's Head of Order. We are honored with your presence.”
“Thank you, Ambassador. This is my beloved husband, Horace Whistlestop of Vistant. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Horace choked and turned red. Husband? he thought.
Fixing his eyes back on Aranna, Janic asked, “May we guide you to the reception area? I'm afraid we have some formalities to cover before leaving the spaceport. I am most embarrassed to admit our ignorance of your fame. Please forgive our wariness of strangers. We intend no insult. It is merely, as I said, a formality.” Janic bowed from the waist, while dipping his right hand in a flourish. The delegation ignored Horace as though he were simply Aranna's appendage.
“May I call you Janic?” Aranna held her hand out to him.
Horace could almost imagine tendrils reaching out from her perfectly shaped head toward this pompous fellow. He sized up the other two men. They were huge. Ranic wasn't particularly radiating good will from his towering, well-over-two-meter frame. Crana was not fat. Just solid. Like a wall. They weren't there to provide hospitality whatever Janic had said. Felta was different. She looked like a girl on her first day on the job, not sure what to say or do. A token female in deference to Aranna, perhaps.
Horace and Aranna followed Janic through the deserted spaceport. Where is everyone? Horace thought at Aranna. She didn't answer. Horace knew why. She was busy mining Janic's mind.
Horace and Aranna passed through an archway to a waiting area. The archway conducted a low-level security scan on them as they went through. They had no luggage save a shoulder-slung tote that Aranna carried. It contained a change of clothes, extra oxygen in the form of inhalers and the Lavratt, disguised as a cosmetic case. They were asked to open the bag and Crana picked up the cosmetic case in his large beefy hands and quickly put it down as though it had stung him.
They rode in a limousine to a hotel in the city center. A basket of fruit and nuts dominated the table in the spacious sitting room. The room obviously fell short of Aranna's expectations. She looked around with disdain but forced a smile to Janic.
“Please use the com to reach me if you need anything. I am in a room down the hall. Just press extension 222. After you rest and freshen up from your journey, let me know and the limo will be called to take you to a reception dinner in the regional magistrate's mansion.” Janic left with a flourish and a bow, closing the door behind him. Horace heard a distinct click of a lock as it closed.
He walked over to the door and put his ear against it to listen for fading footsteps and tried the door. “Aranna, it's locked.”
“I'm not surprised,” she said with a yawn.
“And this doesn't concern you?”
“Well, let's have a nice bath and I'll tell you all about it.”
“No, Aranna, tell me now.”
“Oh, Horace, what's to worry? They'll all be eating out of my hand in no time. That Janic, though, bears watching. He plays a key role in an underground movement to bring back the democratic system. He suspects that I'm an imposter, sent for by the Emperor from a neighboring system. Rumors have been circulating, implying that Emperor Duplici is entering into secret negotiations with other worlds to funnel all trade and information through the throne, to shore up his reign.”
“You learned all of that just now?”
“Of course. Now how about a bath?” Aranna peeled off her traveling clothes and headed for the bathroom. Horace followed like a puppy dog. They made love, then dressed for dinner. Aranna wore a floor-length emerald green dress with a slit to her hip on one side. Her neckline was loose folds draped open to her navel baring more than a little cleavage. Horace wondered how she would manage not popping out when bowing to the dignitaries. Horace dressed casually in black slacks and a green shirt. Time did not allow for him to go home and pack. He had packed what little he could from his locker at the salvage yard before he met her on her ship with the Lavratt.
Janic escorted them, along with Ranic and Crana, to the lobby and on to the limo. Horace and Aranna found it difficult to take in the sights with Janic continually blathering at them about people they should meet. Aranna counted the rows of windows in the buildings to herself. Twelve rows. Each building went up twelve stories. Most of the traffic on the smooth cement streets consisted of small two-wheeled vehicles with one occupant sitting astride. Now and then they spotted one pulling a gaudily decorated coach with large golden wheels and what must have been a family crest on its side.
The limo conducted them to a twelve-story castle with ramparts and balconies on the far side of the city, nestled at the end of a long drive. The dining room sparkled with mirrors framed in gold, golden goblets and candlesticks, crystal chandeliers and silver place settings. When Aranna and Horace arrived, the guests were milling about with drinks in hand.
“Her highness, Princess Aranna Navna, of the fifth Aries planet, Shantar ,” the butler announced as all conversation stopped. The twenty guests stared in wonder at this beautiful, charismatic woman and her quite ordinary escort. Poor Horace didn't rate mentioning. He told himself it didn't matter. That he cared nothing for fame. His self called him a liar.
Deliberator Duran's riotously colorful robes flowed over his bulky frame as he glided into the room. The Magistrate pressed his bejeweled fingers together in traditional greeting and asked them all to be seated in a surprisingly soft voice for such a large man.
Duran sat at the head of the table, flanked by Aranna on one side and Horace on the other. Ranic sat at Aranna's right with Crana to his right. Janic held court at the foot of the table. Felta dined at Horace's left. The number of liveried servers nearly equaled the number of guests. Horace watched Aranna drink it all in. Her eyes lit up as she surveyed the room. The delicious food kept coming, with each course better than the last. The wine flowed, enlivening the conversations. Gossip was the soup de jour.
Felta said not a word until Horace engaged her in small talk. Horace asked her about her world, and she his. She smelled of flowers and spring rain. A sharp contrast to the heady aromas of roasted beasts and rich sauces. Her appointment as Janic's personal aide preceded their arrival by only two weeks.
Aranna plied the Deliberator with questions. “And how long have you been one united Empire?”
“Forty eight years now. We are not without our problems but we have made some remarkable scientific strides with the scientists of several regions working together in harmony rather than competing against each other. Our Interstellar Exploration Department and Medical Sciences boast new discoveries every month. But now I'm boring you. Your civilization surpasses us in all of the sciences, I have no doubt. Tell me more about your space travel and worlds in your part of the galaxy.”
Horace attracted nothing but sideways, curious glances. No doubt they wondered what Aranna saw in such an ordinary man with no sense of taste or decorum. Horace wondered the same thing. All the time. It plagued him.
After dinner, the whole group adjourned into a large parlor decorated in mauve, green and pink velvet in solids and floral prints. The dark paneling, small windows and the low lighting made it seem like a classy cave. Heady orange drinks circulated on silver trays along with spice sticks, mints and dried fruits. Horace attempted to get Aranna alone but never succeeded with so many guests clamoring for her attention. He finally gave up and scanned the room for some interesting conversation to join. Across the room, with his back to a roaring fire, stood a man in his forties looking utterly bored.
“Good evening. I'm sorry. I don't think we've been introduced. You have me at a disadvantage, as we arrived last.”
“Good evening to you as well. My name is Lanta. Your Princess seems to have no trouble finding people with whom to converse. I imagine you are used to waiting your turn while she schmoozes.” He moved away from the fire and motioned Horace toward two nearby chairs.
“Yes. Well, I'm not that big on formal dinners and schmoozing. If you don't mind my saying so, you look fairly bored yourself.”
Lanta laughed. Horace found a kindred spirit. They both laughed behind their drinks as they made silly suppositions about the guests. “You see the stiff woman with the hat that looks like an oil can?” Lanta said. “She's really a rusty robot looking for Lord Debnar to oil her hinges.” After Horace's fourth drink, Aranna still had not missed him and Lanta began asking him questions of a more personal nature. Horace missed the transition as he sank deeper into the overstuffed chair and deeper into his drunken stupor.
“Horace, where did you meet this manipulative beauty?”
“She came to my salvage yard looking for a valuable artifact off an old freighter. She propositioned me as soon as I recovered it.”
“Well, that's surely not an average day on the job. Have you any more of these artifacts?”
“No. There's just the one and that's too many. Trust me when I tell you that you are better off without one.”
“Now I really am intrigued. What is it?”
Just then, Horace grabbed his head, muttering “No, no, no!” to himself. He sat up straight saying, “Sorry Lanta, it's been great but I need to turn in now. Goodnight.” As he rose to his feet, he tried his best to appear sober in spite of the lurching room.
Horace strode to Aranna's side—or rather weaved there. She excused herself and led him to their host. “Honorable Deliberator Duran, I am very eager to meet the Emperor. Please make the arrangements as soon as possible. It has been a lovely evening but we must say good night now.”
“As I said before, your highness, the Emperor is consumed with important matters of state and…” He stopped midsentence, looked puzzled and then continued, “I will be happy to arrange a meeting with him. Crana will take you back to the hotel. Goodnight.” He bowed to her and returned his attention to his other guests.
No one spoke on the way back to the hotel. Crana held the door to their suite open for them to go through, then closed it behind them. He would have locked it if Aranna had not pulled a ‘let's not and think we did' number on him.
“Horace how could you?” Aranna fumed as soon as Crana was safely out of earshot.
“What? Whadi'I do?”
“You ran off at the mouth. You got drunk and let Lanta pump you for information.”
Horace just stared at her, dumbfounded. How could she know? Obviously, she had mastered the art of mental-multitasking. A panic gripped Horace. He was but a fly in her web –struggling in vain. “I think I need to get some sleep, Aranna.”
“I'm not done. The Magistrate will be getting that meeting arranged and I want you silent throughout unless he asks you a question. No one can even so much as suspect that they are being controlled. I can only keep so many minds monitored and controlled at one time and…and…oh Horace, it hurts. The more I use it, the more my head hurts.” She looked like a child who has fallen down and scraped her knee. Looking at her audience to decide if tears were in order.
Horace caved as he always did to women's tears. He held her in his arms and comforted her. After just a couple of minutes, she pulled herself together. She went to get ready for bed. When she returned, she found Horace passed out broadside on the bed. So much for the honeymoon.
The meeting with the Emperor happened the very next day. Janic escorted them to his palace in a modest aircraft and then a small but ornate boat. The palace seemed to grow right out of the solid rock island that it rested on. The boat glided through a cave at its base. The only other way in was by short-range hovercraft to a landing pad on one of the roofs.
The fat, middle-aged Emperor wore a constant scowl. The tall, blond, blue-eyed Empress displayed a perpetual smile. The Emperor motioned them forward with a bored impatient look.
He has no idea whom he's dealing with, thought Horace.
“Your Majesty, this is Princess Aranna Navna of Shantar and her spouse Horace Whistlestop. She has journeyed from the opposite side of our galaxy to trade her knowledge and skills for a position at your court,” Janic said with a deep bow.
“Why?” the Emperor snapped.
Janic shrank back, letting out a strangled gasp.
Horace wondered if there might be a trap door between the audience room and the dungeon.
“Your Majesty?” asked Aranna.
“Why us? Why this world? Why come clear across the galaxy?”
“Surely, Sire, you realize how peaceful and restful your world is by comparison. We have had our fill of the jostling hordes and desire a simpler life. Your pastoral world provides an ideal place for a retreat.”
“For how long? Are you running from something?” the Emperor said as he leaned closer, snarling.
The Empress laid a delicate hand on his and said, “Oh, Danic, please. Let them speak. I like this woman. I think that we shall be great friends.” Aranna had switched from the Emperor to the Empress in her meddling.
“Mallia, my dear, you haven't even spoken with her.” He heaved a sigh. “Very, well, Princess, what do you have to offer?”
“Thank you, your Majesty, I appreciate this opportunity. We have many advancements in resource utilization, waste management, space travel and modern conveniences that should interest you.”
“Draw up some proposals with Janic and I will review it later. And what exactly are you expecting in return?”
“Only to be of some help to you and your court in an advisory capacity. My needs are simple.”
Wow! What a crock, Horace thought. The Empress looked his way. Did she see me smiling at Aranna's tall tale?
The Emperor humphed. “Perhaps you can be of some assistance to my wife since she has taken such a liking to you. That will be all.” He waved them away. The Empress smiled and nodded to them.
Janic lead the way to the “guest quarters.” Horace smiled at the armed, stone-faced guards posted outside their room. The door closed and locked behind them.
Aranna headed straight for the bed and collapsed, holding her head.
“Aranna, what is it?”
“The Emperor. His mind is a fortress. How can he evade me that way?” She wailed like a spoiled child as she grabbed a pillow to put over her head.
“Well, at least the Empress likes you.”
“She was easy. She just thinks she does because I told her she did.”
“Well, she seemed pretty decent anyway.”
“Oh, Horace, shut up and turn off the light.”
Will Aranna gain access to the Emperor's mind? You just check it out in part three, in our next issue.