Authors: Darryl T. Mallard
“Is that wise?” asked Megara. “The boy has his hands full already with your daughter and Coahoma, not to mention the other four.”
“I assure you, the boy is
very
strong. Besides, the Great Mother Gorgo herself has requested it and I have agreed. Between his word, his women and his new obligations here in the capital, I don’t think he’ll be leaving for adventure on the frontier anytime soon. He’ll be too tired!” Again there was laughter. “And if he does at some time go back west to work with people there, he will be doing so as a Bellasarian Prince, not a Barratian renegade. He is now tied permanently to the empire. He will be
our
man, not his own.”
“I feel a little sorry for him,” said one of the women.
“Oh, I have a feeling he’s starting to enjoy living here,” laughed the empress. “He even enjoys his married life and wives. He just needs to develop a firm hand and figure out a system. They all do…eventually.” The women all laughed again.
“One last thing, Your Highness,” said a woman. “What of the Barratian Prince, Tidor?”
“What about him!” snapped a woman before the empress could respond. “He’s a tasteless fool! He is nothing to even waste thought on!”
Many of the women angrily agreed. The empress however had a different view of the disgraced prince. “Yes,” she said, “he behaved foolishly, but yet bravely and exhibited extreme loyalty to his mate.”
“A human girl!” snapped a woman. Again there was angry shouting.
“Yes, I agree,” said Beral again. “He lacked good judgment in this case, but wise men attain wisdom from being foolish boys and Tidor was in every other way a capable warrior and administrator. His father believed him capable of ruling in his stead while he was at the summit and even after he was no longer king.”
“Not alone,” said a woman. “Prince Jawara was summoned from his domains to supervise his little brother.”
“True,” agreed the empress, “but everyone admits, even Jawara himself and now ‘
Queen
’ Sandra, that Tidor was a very capable boy. Jawara was only there in case he was needed for advice. The human girl will not last. In a mere twenty years she’ll be looking like his mother. A few decades longer and she’ll be looking like his grandmother.”
The women looked at each other. Tidor was of a very long line of mutants with advance regeneration. He wouldn’t age perceptibly from what he looks like now for a few centuries. Time would almost certainly break the bonding. The human girl might even come to her senses and leave even if he didn’t.
“You know what the end results of this tale will be,” said Beral III. “Once the human girl is in the ground, or even well before that, Tidor will be a free and a much more practical young man. One just as capable of founding a state as his brother…and by now far more motivated. I’ve seen his face when being ridiculed. He doesn’t fight or display resentment, but it hurts. He
will
try to regain honor for himself and his house. That is why I have kept him here close to elbow where he could be watched and groomed in the right direction. In time, I’ll find him a mate. Believe me, once the human girl is out of the picture that won’t be hard. If managed right, he’ll be a good, happy and useful member of the Bellasarian Empire and imperial family, just like his brother.”
“Uh, by the way, about that,” said a councilwoman, “we have been talking. The name
‘
Bellasarian
Empire’
gives the wrong impression to people. We really need to do something about that. One of the reasons people are hesitant to join us, and even fight us, is because they think they will lose their freedom as independent peoples.” Many of the women nodded at this. “I suggest changing our name to something more accurate, like the ‘Bellasarian Alliance’ or ‘Bellasarian Union’. This is less threatening sounding and would encourage other tribes and nations to join us for protection and the advantages of our civilization. Of course, you’ll still be empress of the
Illyrian
Empire, but it will be clear that your power beyond Illyria is not absolute and those who join us are not losing their cultural identities or freedom.”
“Believe it or not,” said the empress, “I have had this same discussion with Great Bellasaris and the other great ancestors. It won’t be a problem. The high council has always had the final say in matters of politics. The other queens, kings and their lower councils, Illyria’s included, have always done as they pleased anyway with impunity where their internal affairs were concerned. So long as certain shared traditional values and laws were observed, of course. I declared war on Barratia in the name of
Illyrian
honor and the other nations and the councils supported me. I didn’t demand their aid. They rushed to offer it, and you ladies gave everyone your blessings. If you had wished it, Illyria alone would have been fighting the Barratians or certainly a much smaller allied host. I’m Illyria’s hereditary ruler, and to a lesser degree, the empire’s
symbolic
leader. That’s why we have a prime minister.
He
is really the elected leader of the entire empire, no? The name of the nation will change, but it will be business as usual.” There was a sigh of relief from the women and the motion was passed.
Jawara arrived back at the capital a few days later much rested and reenergized. It was a good thing too. His women had been eagerly waiting for him. He wouldn’t be seen again outside his chambers for five days.
******
Washington D.C, A Month Later
The Bellasarian Prime Minister and his wife were welcomed warmly by President Chambers and First Man Barry Chambers. The irony that the Bellasarian, a man from a world ruled by mutant women, was both human and a man, while the President of The United States was the first woman elected to the office in the country’s history, was lost on no one.
“Prime Minister Landau, it is a pleasure to finally get the chance to play host to
you,”
laughed the president. I do hope that one day even the empress might pay us a visit. Perhaps even Bellasaris herself. Do you know how many people here were shocked to discover that she was still alive?”
“Probably as many as on Bellasaria,” replied Landau, chuckling. “With so much happening on Bellasaria I can’t say when or if the empress will be able to come to America any time soon. But one never knows what the future might bring.”
Landau knew that the chance of the empress going
openly
to America was very slim. The chances of the Great Bellasaris herself, whose forces sacked Miami, burned down the white house and caused all kinds of damage in the country, not to mention its territories in the Caribbean, during the Bainian or Mutant War, was nil. Indeed, she had once intended to go after she defeated The Republic of Paolo, but treachery was discovered early and she escaped one step ahead of her enemies. This final act led to the Bellasarians recalling Bain back into their own realm and cutting off all ties with Earth for thirty years (Earth time) and two thousand years, by their time. In both wars, the humans had started the conflicts, but that didn’t mean that Bellasaris could safely expose herself to these people or was stupid enough to do so.
“Please come this way,” said President Chambers.
The prime minister paused only a moment for a picture with the president and then he and his wife accompanied them inside the White House. His entourage followed. Frank P. Landau had a strong feeling of discomfort as he couldn’t help thinking that this was actually the third White House and one rebuilt after his people destroyed the last one.
His face and thoughts must have been easy to read because the president chuckled and said, “Don’t look so nervous. The first White House was burned by the British during the War of 1812, but we’ve hosted their prime ministers here many times. No hard feelings.”
Landau doubted that this was true for many Americans, but he felt it sincere from the president. However, he also had another reason to be nervous. Landau’s wife was a mutant, something else that surprised many. She looked around in curiosity and was cordial to reporters and others who approached and spoke to her, but she was a little nervous too. She was just better at hiding it than her husband.
With the prime minister was one of Prince Jawara’s wives, Princess Coahoma. She was wearing much more conservative clothing of western design and many immediately marked her as an Indian. However, when conversing with this girl a translator was needed because she only spoke Americ and her own native language which was quickly marked as mostly Muskogean with other elements. Some weren’t even Native American. Coahoma had wanted to see the land her ancestors had come from, but there was another reason she was in America as well, one known to the prime minister and his wife and indeed all in their party.
“I thought Bellasarian women were all hot,” whispered an aide to the president, nodding to the seemingly plump Indian girl. “I mean, she has a beautiful face, but she’s kind of chubby.”
The president chuckled. She had made this exact same conclusion about Empress Beral III when she saw her in her formal robes of state when they first met. Later, when seeing her in much more revealing attire, she learned just the opposite and every man in her party (including her husband) was drooling. Indeed, Coahoma was much the same height and shape of the empress.
“I have no doubt,” said President Chambers, “that beneath that dress is a body that will stop a train. Trust me. If she has any of the Bainian mutant strain in her veins, and she probably does, you can count on it.”
******
“I can’t eat this food,” said the empress. “Ambassador Shaba said it had him on the toilet the entire time he was here!”
“Don’t worry, Your Highness,” said Landau. “The president was informed of that and, after eating our food herself on Bellasaria, quite understood. Meat and produce has been delivered from Bain and will be prepared with ingredients from there as well. Already the superior quality of our meat has been noted here.
“Bainian meats are becoming popular and expensive here,” said a man. “But they pay.”
“I guess we’ve found yet another export these people will pay highly for,” laughed Landau.
“How can these people eat this poison?” said the empress. “Their meat is full of steroids and many of the vegetables seem…They don’t taste right. These drinks are like -”
“Sugar is in almost everything in excessive amounts. Also, pesticides, additives, artificial preservatives and lab engineered grain are used extensively here,” said Landau shrugging. “In Europe, such crops are illegal. They have been proven to have very little helpful nutrients, and in fact, have been proven to
cause
obesity and cancer in rats…and therefore people.”
“So why are they allowed here?” asked the empress in disgust. “Wait, I know.”
“Yes,” said Landau, “money. There are those whose livelihoods and fortunes are tied to these crops and much farming is subsidized to fill this need. Also, their populations are huge. They do not manage the size of their families or cities as we do.”
“Even the air here stinks!” said Coahoma.
“Actually, the air quality in most places in America and Europe is very good compared to some places on this planet,” said Landau. “The air in Mexico City or Manila would
kill
a Bellasarian.”
“How is this air affecting the people on Bain?” asked the empress, as an aide continued to apply dye to her skin.
“They have constructed air filters and have even request permission to raise the defensive shield around their Island. Administrator Hong is most anxious about the health of the populous.”
“Is the air quality of this world really so bad as to be harmful from long term exposure?” asked the empress, now concerned.
“No, Highness,” said Landau. “Fortunately, things have not reached that point on this planet yet and many are determined that it never does. In this country there are even mandatory emission testing for vehicles and other measures to keep the pollutants to a minimum. With our help, things will get even better here.”
“Then no,” said Beral III. “The shield would be a danger to their ships and planes that might crash into it because they couldn’t see it or register it on their radar.” Landau bowed. “Well!” said the empress standing up. “How do I look?”
Coahoma giggled, “Mother, you look just like a red woman!”
“Except for her eyes,” said the prime minister’s wife.
“No,” said Coahoma, “many of our people have such shaped eyes. This was true even before our contact with the Hangookee and Nippongee tribes.”
“I see,” chuckled the empress, amused by the Indianized names for the Koreans (Han-gook) and Japanese (Nipponjin). It also explained the cultural background of Princess Jayna’s father and one of her people’s cultural influences. Aside from her eyes, her sword had been clearly of Japanese influence, but designed to be wielded in one hand from horseback while the warrior carried a shield on the other arm.
“Be that as it may,” said Pam Landau, “Princess
Coahoma
does
not
have such shaped eyes, nor are they green or feline. Aside from your body and hair, you don’t look anything like Princess Coahoma, Highness.”
“Not to worry,” said the empress. She motioned to a servant who quickly produced a mask. “The Princess Coahoma will suddenly develop a severe skin reaction and, mortified by her condition, wear this mask to hide it. The shaded narrow openings will hide the shape of my eyes and colored contacts will take care of the color problem. Between telepathy, teleportation and the mask, no will suspect when one of us is not who she seems to be.”