Voyages Among Sand and Stars

The Beginning: Aphelion

  Aphelion stared out of the shuttle transport's viewport. A small welcoming party of richly dressed men and woman stood at the base of the landing dock. He suppressed an eye roll when he saw the group was headed by Chancellor Yellvun Thrindrel, a spindly old man whose political ambitions landed him as the right hand man to the High Chancellor.

    The shuttle docked seamlessly in the port. Aphelion lead his own delegation down the ramp as it lowered. He wore the deep purple robes of Iotan 9 royalty, the hem swishing around his heavy boots that hit the ramp with a resounding thunk with every step he took. The rest of his party followed, dressed in lavender robes, a unified front to meet with the Zetians.

    The Zetian group bowed before him. Aphelion stopped short. "Bowing isn't necessary."

    "It is our highest honor to receive royalty," Chancellor Thrindrel said.

    "I am honored, however, I am sorry to say that I am not here under royal duties, but of my duties as an ambassador," Aphelion said. He resumed his walk down the ramp and his entourage filed out behind him.

    "I assure you, we are committed to ending the conflicts between us," Yellvun said.

    "I am confident we will," Aphelion said, "Thank you for greeting us personally." Aphelion wasn't confident they would be able to work anything out. He had been sent with a hard list of non-negotiable criteria, and he knew Yellvun would have a similar list.

    "As I said, it is our honor to meet you. Official talks are not scheduled for another two days, and you must be tired after your flight. Pelle will lead your retinue to their residences." Yellvun motioned with his hand, and a young man from the welcoming party stepped forward. Aphelion nodded for his group to follow the man into the ancient palace. "Prince Aphelion, if you would follow me, the High Chancellor has requested you stay in the Residential Wing, as an esteemed guest of his. He also requests you join him and his family in a private dinner tonight."

    "I'll be there," Aphelion said. He did not want to be there. There were hundreds of topics he had to discuss with the delegation and fatigue seeped into his bones. Nothing sounded better than falling into bed and sleeping for the rest of the night, but it would be an egregious error on his part to refuse any direct request from the High Chancellor.

    Yellvun didn't allow for a single quiet moment as he rambled on and on about the murals and tapestries covering the ancient government building, as they walked through the halls. The paintings were relics from before space travel, or something like that. To Aphelion's dismay, the murals were interesting. Detailed paintings of men fighting in wars with ancient steel blades.

    The state department building was by no means, minimal, but the Residential Wing was so densely covered in paintings and gold it made the rest of the building drab in comparison. The yellow metal adorned the gilded trimming and columns that lined the hallways. His boots clacked on the shining floor, barely audible over Yellvun's monologue.

    Yellvun directed him to his room, an ornate door that boasted a rather ostentatious set of apartments behind it. The main room had a chaise and other generic furniture.

    "Your belongings have already been moved, we will send an android to bring you to dinner," Yellvun said. Aphelion did not even offer a thanks, instead making a run for the bedroom. It was garish, deep yellow and orange bedding with far too many pillows, but in that moment it was the most beautiful thing Aphelion had ever seen. He swept off a majority of the pillows and kicked off his boots before crawling under the covers. He closed his eyes and was asleep before his head sunk into the pillow.

    The rhythmic beeping of an android pulled Aphelion from sleep. He cracked one eye open and saw the stout golden 'droid situated right by his bedside.

    "Are you ready to be escorted to dinner, Prince Aphelion?" It said in its mechanically tinged voice.

    "How much time do I have?" Aphelion's voice was gravelly from sleep.

    "Your presence is required in ten standard minutes."

    "Shit." Aphelion pulled himself into a sitting position. It was just enough time to look presentable enough, but his head was stilly foggy from his nap. The 'droid moved backwards when Aphelion left the bed. He went to the bathroom and splashed water over his face and patted down the soft waves of his hair into something more refined.

    His clothes had already been moved to the closet and he pulled the first set of grey and blue Ambassador's robes. He shrugged off the wrinkled clothes and fitted his new robe to his body.

    "Take me to the High Chancellor," Aphelion said when he was satisfied with his appearance. The 'droid perked up, if that was even a thing 'droids could do, Aphelion wasn't sure, and wheeled out of the room. Aphelion left the room and shut the door behind him.

    "Have you ever met with the High Chancellor before, Prince Aphelion?" The 'droid asked.

    "I've not," answered Aphelion, "And you don't have to continue using my title. Or if you must, refer to me by Ambassador."

    "I am sorry, but I cannot go against my programming. The Zetians are very particular about titles."

    "As I am learning," Aphelion mumbled. There was no doubt tin his mind that their continued use of 'prince' was to belittle his accomplishments as Ambassador for the throne. A constant reminder of the nepotism that lead to the prestigious title, even if he had trained his whole life for the role.

    As royalty, Aphelion was the spare. His sister now had two children of her own and his chances of ever sitting on the Iotan 9 throne were slim to none. Not that he really cared. Aphelion enjoyed the leniencies afforded to being the second child, yet he still garnered respect in his line of work. Not that he would get it so easily from the Zetians.

    The private dining hall for the High Chancellor was gold, just as everything else. Detailed murals covered the ceiling, this time depicting the more recent acquisition of the moon of Alpha into their control. That had been before Aphelion was born, but he had heard stories of just how bloody it had been.

    The High Chancellor's wife and three children sat at the table. Of his three children, one was married and sat with his wife and two children. They were all dressed in Agorthian silks and jewelry, shining clothes with forlorn faces.

    Aphelion's 'droid stopped by the door to announce his arrival. "I am pleased to present Prince Aphelion of Iota 9 and its territories, fourth in line for the throne and Ambassador to the crown." A second 'droid pulled back a chair for Aphelion. He offered a small bow to the family and strode over to the offered seat.

    "I trust you had a good flight here?" The High Chancellor's wife, Scarlett Winsar asked.

    "It was pleasant, your planet it beautiful," Aphelion answered, "We crossed over the Adulian Mountain Range once we breached atmosphere." The mountain range was one of the natural wonders on the planet, with the highest peak just shy of breaking through the planet's atmosphere.

    The oldest son, Bartholomew II, spoke up. "I do hope you will find time to enjoy more of what Zeta c-7 has to offer in your time here."

    Aphelion turned the corners of his mouth upward crinkling his eyes in veiled disdain. "I am here to end the bloodshed between our planets, but should I have any time for sight seeing I am sure I will take advantage."

    Aphelion's 'droid announced the High Chancellor to the room, "It is my greatest honor to present High Chancellor Bartholomew Winsar, head of state for Zeta c-7 and its territories. Please rise." His family stood, routinely and in sync, with Aphelion following a beat behind.

The eighty year old High Chancellor hobbled in on a dark cane. His skin had a yellow pallor and his eyes were sunken far back into his head. Stringy white hair covered the top of his head, and his robes appeared as though they weighed more than the man himself.

    "You may all be seated," he said, his voice a shadow of something powerful and deep. Aphelion sat down, never taking his eyes off the decrepit old man. So this was the being that had so mercilessly avoided any hope of peace for the past five standard years.

    Illotia help me. Aphelion sent a prayer to the king of the gods.