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“Very pretty,” he says. “But Calista, we need your help now.”
“I know. A warhead has been launched to obliterate this side of the planet. You have three minutes to make your escape.”
“You knew that, and you still spent the previous three minutes demanding to turn yourself into an easy bake oven!?” I curse, on the verge of losing patience.
“I don’t mind if I am blown to eternity. I understand that is an event of concern for you, however.”
“Yes. Yes, it very much is an event of concern. Open up. Let’s go.”
Two minutes and thirty-nine seconds later, we watch from distant orbit as the alien missile strikes the precise location where Manik and I took shelter. The impact is terrible and intense, destroying everything I have known with him in an instant. The ship’s cameras allow us to see a crater in the aftermath of the explosion, a large rocky indentation surrounded by flickering flame.
“That impact will likely change the course of evolution on the planet,” Calista says. “In a few million years, I predict there will be small monkey-like creatures forced to descend from trees, who will eventually discover digital watches, and then even greater technologies, drawing sentience from stone.”
“This is why I like her,” I say to Manik. “She’s poetic.”
“Indeed,” he says, somewhat unimpressed. I know he must be nervous. I think he was comfortable in his icy cave, away from the concerns of kingship.
“Hey,” I say, nudging him. “Don’t worry. This is all going to work out.”
Manik
Her plan is madness, but it might just be crazy enough to work. That’s what I am telling myself. The truth is, I am tired of hiding. It is shameful and it is not working. They have destroyed one world in order to destroy me, and if it ever becomes known that I have fled and hidden again, they will send tricks and traps and armies after me until I am crushed. My efforts to keep things peaceful have failed, because you cannot make peace with those who only speak the language of war. I am being forced into atrocity after atrocity because I refuse to lie down and die.
Lyssa’s ship provides insight to her character. She’s painted the interior pink and has stuck flower decals to the inside of the hull. I don’t know why that surprises me. I suppose I don’t know the sorts of things she does when she is not leashed to a grate. We have much to learn about one another. I know nothing of her as a free woman, and she knows nothing of me as a king.
I had abandoned all thoughts of the throne. I thought that part of my life behind me. Easier to be a madman in the wilderness, a creature far too dangerous to get close to than to be a king responsible for the lives of millions.
“So, what’s your ex’s name?” Lyssa is curious.
“Enchante.”
It has been a long time since I formed her name. I don't like the way it feels in my mouth. It’s heavy and it rolls around and there’s a foulness to it that almost makes me want to spit.
“So Enchante fucked you out of your throne, but that wasn’t enough, she also hounded you to the ends of the universe, and let me guess, you never fought back because even though you’ve killed thousands, you don’t want to kill a woman.”
This human is a talented dot joiner. “Something like that,” I nod.
“I see. So she’s happy to keep fucking with you, and I was the one who got the collar that fucks you up?”
“Well. Yes.”
Lyssa shakes her head. “I am not going to be a whipping girl for that bitch,” she says.
“You’re not. You are a very different kind of trouble.” I speak with affection. It is safe to say that Lyssa is my favorite kind of trouble. “Enchante and I were never in love. Our marriage was arranged in order to seal the kingdom. Her father, now passed, battled my father, also now passed, for years, sending millions to their deaths. Our marriage was supposed to bring peace, but Enchante is not the kind to settle for anything like peace. She wanted to change Maniae. And when I refused to make the decisions she wanted me to make, she started a coup with her ladies-in-waiting and was very successful at it.”
“So she was kind of a boss bitch babe who didn’t need no man,” she says, puzzlingly. The translation device often converts her thoughts into coherent words, but not ones that necessarily mean anything when strung in a sentence.
“You should learn about my realm, Maniae, before we reach it, the politics. The history, the…”
“Nah. Not going to be necessary.”
The arrogance is astounding, but unsurprising.
“Do you think you’re just going to walk right in and take the throne?”
She turns her head to look at me from her pilot’s chair. “Just wait and see.”
There’s a very real chance she’s going to get us both killed, but at this point there’s a very real chance we’re both going to be killed anyway. At least this is a step in what might be the right direction.
