Emissary

Commander Gohthep, now in charge of Residence security, found his father in the nanostasis

room, talking to Gara's quietly humming stasis pod. He brought the days' first reports, a steaming cup

of sweetened mashed marsh-apple and stalks of Jai to wake them both up.

"She was a hero, little one. If there had been any other way, we would have left her in there,

waited while they cloned organs and... time, time is a perishable treasure." The Firstborn Virus was

killing Markov children, and all available stasis pods had been pressed into service to buy time. "I did

this, this, but also, all of this, to save you both, to save all of your generation, but even the Autocrat has

limits." Krell traced the Ilshani syllables for 'Treasure', and sighed. "Now I'm a bigger target than I

ever was, and all of you are too close to me for comfort. I'll have to do something about that." The

Autocrat looked up, saw Gohthep, and smiled.

"Another sunrise, another day. They do pile up, one by one. The Assembled Clans meet

tomorrow?"

"Yes, sir." Gohthep considered skipping it, but added, "It'll be a very short session for you if you

wear that to antagonize them, Dad..."

By 'that', he meant Krell's Ranger uniform. Krell laughed.

"I'll be good. Let loose the tailors, and lay on the fancy frippery. I just want to get it over with.

Elect me, or send me off to the grel pits. Speaking of which, isn't the Princess on today's schedule?"

Gohthep consulted his reports. "In the second hour. Have you decided what to do with her?"

"Yes. No grel pit for her, she gets to fix all her mistakes, herself. Mercy, not that she'll

appreciate it. And I've got a job she's ideally suited for."

***

Former Princess Atoshka was brought before the Autocrat, and made a proper show of respect,

kneeling on her front legs like a horse curtsying. She smiled, a facial mannerism she'd picked up from

the Humans. She had made an extensive study of them, in preparation for conquering their Homeworld
for the Autocrat and the Markov Imperium. The humans thought of the Markov as hippopotamus-

centaurs, river-horses. She frowned, remembering her failure and her shame.

"Rise. I can't very well keep talking down at your head, Princess Atoshka," Autocrat Krell said.

Atoshka's head snapped up and she rose, thinking furiously. This made no sense. She had failed;

that was beyond argument. She had lost her entire third fleet to the humans, and they had made a gift of

it, and her, to the former 'Prince of Peace', Prince Krell, now Autocrat. He was friends with them, had

been saved by them in the aftermath of a botched assassination. She had tried to kill them and failed,

but that was not in her favor, surely?

"I can see you have many questions," the autocrat fairly purred. "Your mind must be a whirl. I

wonder what you think I will do... Tell me, what should I do with you?"

That one was easy. "The traditional way of it is that I be allowed to apologize and atone for my

failure by going to the grel pits, Autocrat."

"True. Failure is not good for your health, traditionally." His eyes bored into hers. "Why did you

fail?"

"Vanity. Overconfidence. Not one, but three of them tricked me. The 'Prince of the Humans',

Paulo Davilla convinced me that he was broken, and would act as my agent. In turn, this allowed the-"

Atoshka shook with fury, "Boy-captain, Clark, to take our own systems away from us, and easily board

the command carrier. Then, when the one who thinks he is a 'Jedi' challenged me in front of my bridge

crew, I accepted his terms and lost in single combat. He... cut off my hand."

"But you got better, I see." Krell pointed at the hand in question, which she was absently

rubbing.

"Yes. A human surgeon." But her failure was not complete. "Somehow, and to the anger of his

allies, the boy-captain managed to move the far end of the Earth Gate. I failed to get to their

homeworld."

"Incredible." Atoshka wondered if he meant the relocation of the solar terminus of the
wormhole, displaced by fifty light-years, or her... performance. She found that she truly didn't care, but

then she stopped herself and stood up straight. Gods and Ancestors! She was Markov, always Markov!

Surely the Autocrat would soon weary of playing with her, and allow her to end this.

"Would you say that you are something of an expert on Humans?"

"I am a fool, who let a bunch of clever apes-" Atoshka screamed, but was cut off as the Autocrat

rose from his seat. She fell to the floor and showed her belly.

"Control yourself! You are Markov, and you are my trusted servant. Rise. Rise!" When she did

so, unbelieving, he shook his head, a very human gesture. "Princess, I am not needlessly cruel. If I were

planning to waste vital resources, a life-time of training, I would do so sadly, and with dispatch. Gods

and Ancestors, get over yourself! This is not one of those gods-damned period romances that you write

in secret..." He chuckled. "Yes, I know all about them. Your shame and dishonor are complete,

Princess. Or should I call you by your pen-name, Senzood? They're actually quite good, you know. Or

at least, I think so. Perhaps you might consider sending me a copy of the next one you write?"

"I don't understand."

"You don't get out of trouble as easily as those two idiots, the two Princes I had executed,

murdered along with their followers and... seventy-one stasis pods we needed for children, gods-damn-

it! You, you I sentence to clean up your mess. I'm sending you as my emissary to the Peoples' Republic

of Sparrowgrad and task you with negotiating a truce with the Free Human Fleet, and such other parties

as you can contact." The Autocrat took his seat again. "What, do you have more questions?! Go!"