Chapter 14
A steady rain was falling as Prince Kalizan toured the bombing sites with Deraloy and a montage of other officials. The Prince praised Deraloy's swift work; only a week ago there had been nowhere to walk in the area. Now, it was almost completely cleared, and reconstruction had already begun. All citizens who had been forced into labor had been released, yet still monitored closely. Deraloy expressed he was convinced those actions had prevented revolution and instilled respect on the planet.
Near the site, the Prince's royal army stood in ranks—impressive in number. Kalizan, utterly pleased by this demonstration, ordered a podium to be procured so that he might address his troops. While waiting, Deraloy whispered in his superior's ear developments regarding the missing Jedi.
"I expressed to the Jedi's High Council our sympathies and profound assurances that no body was to be found and that they were most unwelcome here at the time. I've had men conducting random searches of residences and other areas just to be safe." Ralant Kalizan's face drifted to a frown for the first time all day.
"Those searches must stop. We are only perturbing the people by invading their homes looking for a body that doesn't exist. He's dead, Deraloy. The Jedi's dead."
"Your highness, I have little doubt of that myself, but if the Jedi are not convinced and they come here looking—"
"If they come, let them come, Deraloy. Look around you. This army is ready to beat them back, and I will not hesitate to give the order."
With that, Kalizan briskly climbed the podium taking in the applause from his invincible army. He spoke powerfully for many minutes with praise, raising the pulses of his troops with spontaneous suggestions of conquests past, present, and future.
But amidst the thunderous cheers as Ralant paused, daggers pierced his insides. So sudden and violent it nearly knocked him down, the Prince forced a smile but shot a glance down below at Aran. The physician had noticed immediately, and gave Kalizan a worried, half-angry stare. Turning away, Prince Kalizan finished his speech:
"Today, as I look out on this sea of power, I know that victory shall come swiftly and fiercely in all we strive to achieve and no matter what the cause, what the purpose, how impending or futuristic the call may be, when I order my men into battle, your response will be 'Which way lies our field?'"
Hysteria from the crowd, but it was nearly lost on the Prince as he struggled with the fading pain. He kept atop the podium, smiling and waving, preserving image.
Yards away, Tyndale stood at the open window of his home, listening. He shook his head solemnly; he was becoming more convinced that there might not be a way to let anyone in this galaxy know what had happened. Kalizan was too powerful, too controlling, and too good at living a lie.
Perany had been listening to the Prince too, and seemed genuinely pleased at what he heard.
"Your young ears didn't read deep enough, Tyndale. His emphasis on battles was not for show. And it isn't as if he's just going to start trying to take over other planets just yet. He's just told us everything we need to know. The Jedi are breathing down his neck. They could be here within days!" Laughing joyously, the old senator patted Tyndale's shoulder, who remained unconvinced.
Jumping off the last two steps, Prince Kalizan tried to look energetic though drowsiness threatened his every movement. Aran, not fooled, took Deraloy aside.
"Move the group along if there is still more to see. I need to speak with the Prince alone." Deraloy read Aran's eyes uneasily, and then called to one of his officers suggesting a tour of a weapon assembly plant nearby. The officials moved on enthusiastically, not noticing the Prince stayed behind. Aran led Ralant by the elbow to a boulder and sat him down, Deraloy following.
"Ralant," Aran began, "where was the pain? Was it in your arms or legs?" Distantly, the Prince shook his head. Aran did his best to judge a pulse.
"Your heart rate is already back to normal. That's a good sign. How severe was it, Ralant, comparatively?"
"It's been worse," the Prince muttered. "It subsided quickly; I think I'm alright, Aran." Shaking his head, the doctor tried to read Ralant's temperature. Even in the cool rain, he seemed uncomfortably warm.
"We need to go home, Ralant. Now. I want you in bed, resting for a few days." Kalizan rose, his strong build and height making him appear stable over Aran's shorter stature. He ran his fingers through his thick blonde hair.
"Aran, do you have any idea...my God, the next few days I have a city to rebuild, another planet to keep from invading us, an army to raise, and economic meetings galore. Not to mention, a damned new government to be running! Look, I'll be fine—this was just a ...a mishap." The Prince turned away.
"Ralant, this was a warning. The heaviness and exhaustion you're feeling right now are only the beginning. Next time this happens, I promise you, it will be ten times worse and it may very well be more than a warning. Please Ralant. You aren't a child anymore, I can't force you. But for your own good, just rest awhile."
"Your highness," Deraloy finally chimed in, "I will personally attend every meeting and ward off the Jedi if more problems arise. Your health is not worth compromising for these things, sir."
"And what will you tell them, Deraloy? When they ask for their leader? Certainly we cannot tell them the truth. That would be political suicide. There is a reason only the three of us know about this..."
"A young leader with a new government to run has many responsibilities. It will not be hard to make your excuses for having to be elsewhere." Aran nodded in agreement. The Prince's energy was so deeply depleted he found no reason to argue longer. Sitting back down, he told Deraloy to call his transport over.
Aran stood next to him, looking gravely at the horizon, thinking "If there is a God, don't take him this time. All these years when you could have, just don't make it this time."
A steady rain was falling as Prince Kalizan toured the bombing sites with Deraloy and a montage of other officials. The Prince praised Deraloy's swift work; only a week ago there had been nowhere to walk in the area. Now, it was almost completely cleared, and reconstruction had already begun. All citizens who had been forced into labor had been released, yet still monitored closely. Deraloy expressed he was convinced those actions had prevented revolution and instilled respect on the planet.
Near the site, the Prince's royal army stood in ranks—impressive in number. Kalizan, utterly pleased by this demonstration, ordered a podium to be procured so that he might address his troops. While waiting, Deraloy whispered in his superior's ear developments regarding the missing Jedi.
"I expressed to the Jedi's High Council our sympathies and profound assurances that no body was to be found and that they were most unwelcome here at the time. I've had men conducting random searches of residences and other areas just to be safe." Ralant Kalizan's face drifted to a frown for the first time all day.
"Those searches must stop. We are only perturbing the people by invading their homes looking for a body that doesn't exist. He's dead, Deraloy. The Jedi's dead."
"Your highness, I have little doubt of that myself, but if the Jedi are not convinced and they come here looking—"
"If they come, let them come, Deraloy. Look around you. This army is ready to beat them back, and I will not hesitate to give the order."
With that, Kalizan briskly climbed the podium taking in the applause from his invincible army. He spoke powerfully for many minutes with praise, raising the pulses of his troops with spontaneous suggestions of conquests past, present, and future.
But amidst the thunderous cheers as Ralant paused, daggers pierced his insides. So sudden and violent it nearly knocked him down, the Prince forced a smile but shot a glance down below at Aran. The physician had noticed immediately, and gave Kalizan a worried, half-angry stare. Turning away, Prince Kalizan finished his speech:
"Today, as I look out on this sea of power, I know that victory shall come swiftly and fiercely in all we strive to achieve and no matter what the cause, what the purpose, how impending or futuristic the call may be, when I order my men into battle, your response will be 'Which way lies our field?'"
Hysteria from the crowd, but it was nearly lost on the Prince as he struggled with the fading pain. He kept atop the podium, smiling and waving, preserving image.
Yards away, Tyndale stood at the open window of his home, listening. He shook his head solemnly; he was becoming more convinced that there might not be a way to let anyone in this galaxy know what had happened. Kalizan was too powerful, too controlling, and too good at living a lie.
Perany had been listening to the Prince too, and seemed genuinely pleased at what he heard.
"Your young ears didn't read deep enough, Tyndale. His emphasis on battles was not for show. And it isn't as if he's just going to start trying to take over other planets just yet. He's just told us everything we need to know. The Jedi are breathing down his neck. They could be here within days!" Laughing joyously, the old senator patted Tyndale's shoulder, who remained unconvinced.
Jumping off the last two steps, Prince Kalizan tried to look energetic though drowsiness threatened his every movement. Aran, not fooled, took Deraloy aside.
"Move the group along if there is still more to see. I need to speak with the Prince alone." Deraloy read Aran's eyes uneasily, and then called to one of his officers suggesting a tour of a weapon assembly plant nearby. The officials moved on enthusiastically, not noticing the Prince stayed behind. Aran led Ralant by the elbow to a boulder and sat him down, Deraloy following.
"Ralant," Aran began, "where was the pain? Was it in your arms or legs?" Distantly, the Prince shook his head. Aran did his best to judge a pulse.
"Your heart rate is already back to normal. That's a good sign. How severe was it, Ralant, comparatively?"
"It's been worse," the Prince muttered. "It subsided quickly; I think I'm alright, Aran." Shaking his head, the doctor tried to read Ralant's temperature. Even in the cool rain, he seemed uncomfortably warm.
"We need to go home, Ralant. Now. I want you in bed, resting for a few days." Kalizan rose, his strong build and height making him appear stable over Aran's shorter stature. He ran his fingers through his thick blonde hair.
"Aran, do you have any idea...my God, the next few days I have a city to rebuild, another planet to keep from invading us, an army to raise, and economic meetings galore. Not to mention, a damned new government to be running! Look, I'll be fine—this was just a ...a mishap." The Prince turned away.
"Ralant, this was a warning. The heaviness and exhaustion you're feeling right now are only the beginning. Next time this happens, I promise you, it will be ten times worse and it may very well be more than a warning. Please Ralant. You aren't a child anymore, I can't force you. But for your own good, just rest awhile."
"Your highness," Deraloy finally chimed in, "I will personally attend every meeting and ward off the Jedi if more problems arise. Your health is not worth compromising for these things, sir."
"And what will you tell them, Deraloy? When they ask for their leader? Certainly we cannot tell them the truth. That would be political suicide. There is a reason only the three of us know about this..."
"A young leader with a new government to run has many responsibilities. It will not be hard to make your excuses for having to be elsewhere." Aran nodded in agreement. The Prince's energy was so deeply depleted he found no reason to argue longer. Sitting back down, he told Deraloy to call his transport over.
Aran stood next to him, looking gravely at the horizon, thinking "If there is a God, don't take him this time. All these years when you could have, just don't make it this time."