Epilogue 1 – 15 Years Later
Emperor Austin Burnell has been declared dead, the result of a rapid decline following a sudden illness ending in heart failure. It wasn't twenty-four hours between the time his illness was announced and the moment his death certificate was signed by the Imperial family physician. With the old emperor gone, there are those in the government and other powerful positions in the public eye (mostly members of the Old Guard and their lackeys and minions) who feel sufficiently emboldened to ask or imply that perhaps the heir apparent, Crown Prince Alfred, may have helped him on his way to the grave. On the other hand, there are those who say it wouldn't have been possible. There has never been any evidence of discord or animosity in the royal family. The emperor was known to be a doting father, if a bit cool and formal in his affections, as evidenced by multiple interviews with his adoring children and the Empress as well as video footage from the palace showing the children growing up, laughing and playing hide-and-seek with their father in the Imperial Palace, skiing in Colorado, sunbathing and swimming on the beaches of Rio de Janeiro, celebrating Victorian Christmases at the restored Buckingham Palace and doing all the other things an otherwise humble family of untold wealth would be expected to do in the father's limited free time.
But, the conspiracy nutters argue, his annual physical results have been released every year for decades, a thing the Emperor started doing when people objecting to some of his reforms started questioning his sanity. His most recent physical was only two months ago and he was in better health than many men half his age. There was no indication whatsoever of any form of heart disease.
Alfred's supporters argue back that it wasn't heart disease that killed the emperor, but some as yet unnamed illness that made him critically ill. You don't have to have heart disease, for your heart to stop beating; you only have to be sick enough to make it impossible for it to pump efficiently. Besides even if it was heart disease, any doctor will tell you that, even now, often, the first sign of a bad heart is a heart attack, and given his age and the amount of stress the emperor was under for nearly his entire adult life, it's hardly any wonder that his heart would be susceptible to a serious illness or infection.
Crown Prince Alfred has been declared the new Emperor. He attends his father's magnificent obsequies flanked by his younger brothers on one side, and his mother and sister on the other. Nieces and nephews, the little ones attended by their nurses, sit in the row just behind him. For all their stoicism, what's left of the Imperial family is the picture of devotion. Some of the youngsters in the second row have trouble concealing their grief, but they are comforted by their siblings and cousins and caregivers. The Empress has her arm around Princess Victoria, and those with a view see the subtle squeeze she gives young Albert's arm when he rises to pass to the front of the Grand Reception Hall and deliver the eulogy.
Billy and Melissa Wainwright, the Minister of Imperial Agriculture and his wife are in attendance with their children. Over the years, their youngest child, Nova, has become a close friend to Princess Victoria. The age difference – Nova is just over a decade older than the princess – would seem to make their friendship unlikely, but as the only girl in a household of boys, young Victoria found a treasured confidant in the older girl when she started visiting the Palace with her father on his meetings with the late Emperor; she still relies on the woman for companionship and advice in personal matters. The older Wainwright children, Chuck and Libby, serve under their father as Deputy Minister of Imperial Agriculture and Minister of Home World Agriculture, respectively. Their mother, Melissa, doesn't have any direct ties with the Imperial Government, but she has been known to consult with the Empress on women's issues such as prenatal care and sexual assault awareness campaigns. The entire Wainwright family has been among the Imperial Family's closest allies since the first years of the late Emperor's reign, even spending the occasional holiday with them in Nassau, Corfu, Tokyo or some other exotic destination.
After the eulogy, it is time for the Emperor's interment. Minister Wainwright is among the pallbearers, along with his son, the two younger princes, Richard and George, General Amanda Cole, now head of Homeworld Security, still tall and erect, her age showing only in the greying of her hair and the crow's feet that crinkle around her eyes when she smiles, and others of the late Emperor's closest living allies and friends. They load the Emperor's casket into a crystal hearse decorated with black bunting and pulled sedately through the streets of San Francisco by six jet black horses to the Presidio Cemetery, where the Imperial Family Mausoleum with its small memorial garden of English roses and Japanese chrysanthemums was built decades ago in preparation for this eventuality.
The precise rows of gleaming white headstones and the spectacular views of the Bay and the Bridge make it a fitting resting place for a popular and beloved Emperor. Starting today, the mausoleum will be guarded by MACOs around the clock, but marble benches have been installed around it for any subjects of the Empire who wish to pay their respects. Of course, they've been shooed off for the moment, but it will be opened to public access again by the end of the day. Crown Prince Alfred, his brothers and sister and some of their children, accompanied by their bodyguards at a respectful distance, walk along together behind the hearse. They are followed by the Wainwright children and General Cole. Owing to their age and various infirmities, the Empress, accompanied by her ladies in waiting, Minister Wainwright and his wife and the other pallbearers follow along in plain black carriages.
After placing the closed coffin of white English oak into the mausoleum and saying a last few, loving words of praise and admiration about his father, Alfred – alone now, except for two bodyguards trailing him at a distance and others, some of them snipers, lurking about along his path for his protection – walks more than a mile from the huge marble mausoleum to the Imperial Palace and his even more magnificent coronation. During the preparations for the funeral, this walk was the subject of much heated debate. Ultimately, Alfred decided on it to give himself and the media time to make a respectful transition from the sombre mood of the funeral to the celebratory tone of a coronation. He fully understood the need to install himself as the new emperor as soon as possible, but as he explained to his advisors, he found it simply obscene that he was being asked to go from grieving his father to celebrating his ascension as easily as one might switch a light off and on. He wanted to show the people that he loved and mourned for his father, but at the same time he understood that he needed to show them he was ready to lead.
As head of Imperial Security, it folds to General Cole to fasten the Sword of State around his waist, and the Sword of Justice is handled by the Minister of the Imperial Judiciary, another old family friend who was recommended to his position decades ago by Minister Wainwright. His brothers bear the Imperial Crown to him on a litter as elegant and ornate as anything any Egyptian Pharaoh or Indian Maharaja ever rode on, but as there is no one with the authority to crown him Emperor, Alfred must place the crown on his head himself. Once he is seated in a move that was practiced for hours the day after his father's death so that he would not bang his swords against the throne or trip over his trailing cloak, his sister hands him the orb of State and the Imperial Sceptre.
An officiant reads off a litany of his awards and achievements, proof of his worthiness to rule. He then recites an oath declaring himself dedicated first and foremost to the wise government of the Terran Empire. Finally, his mother rises, steps forward and bows at his feet, swearing her oath of fealty as she presses her elegant forehead against his shining black boots. This gesture is repeated by his siblings, the cabinet ministers and their families and the heads of all the military departments. Finally, the assembled guests all rise in unison and shout, "All hail Emperor Alfred Burnell! Long live the Emperor!" over and over as he steps down from the dais and into the beginning of what will hopefully be a long and prosperous reign.
Shortly afterwards, as coronation banquets and balls lurch their weary and bittersweet way through the evening, late into the night, and spill over into the early hours of the morning, a nondescript shuttle makes landfall on an equally nondescript wilderness planet, dropping two old men off, and putting a warning buoy in orbit before it leaves forever.
The older of the two men moves painfully, but still with dignity, still upright and confident with a military bearing. With one hand he uses a walking stick, but the other rests on the arm of his companion, who smiles at him as the two of them head into the forest and disappear.