Tevun-Krus #62 - Best of 2018

Overture - @elveloy - Space Opera

Overture

A Space Opera story by elveloy

Zeta D'Achernar suppressed a yawn and made an effort to look alert, but sitting through six hours straight of tedious bickering over the space rights between Mu and Suria, was enough to send anyone into a coma. She was almost certain this was the third time the Surian minister had raised that same point. She glanced across at the Arbitrator, wishing he would wind things up.

As the Matriarch's representative, Zeta's presence had been requested to help steer a middle course between the demands and expectations of two of Achernar's subsidiary planets. She had done her job. The important edicts had been decided hours ago, now the delegates were arguing about minor details. Surely these could be left to the bureaucrats to thrash out, there was no need for the prime negotiators to be involved. She cast another glance at the Arbitrator.

An hour later Zeta was back in her temporary quarters on the space station, squeezing in a two minute shower in the refresher unit, before changing into her dress uniform for the formal reception that was due to commence in half an hour. Gritting her teeth, she adjusted the temperature to just above freezing for the last five seconds, hoping to shock herself into wakefulness. Shivering, she ran a comb through her short black hair and hastily pulled on the midnight blue trousers and shirt with gold braid which comprised her dress uniform. Made of artificial silk, it was tough enough to double as body armour.

Normally, she'd be looking forward to the Reception, a chance to enjoy some fancy food and sip a vintage savinon, but tonight she just wanted it to be over so she could go to bed. Five, maybe even six hours of uninterrupted sleep would be blissful. She sighed. The truth was she needed a holiday. Somewhere far away where she could go for long solitary walks then sleep as much as she needed. Someplace where she could shrug off the mantle of being the Matriarch's sister and just be herself. Someplace, where no-one knew who she was.

She rolled her shoulders, plastered a polite smile on her face and left her quarters, prepared to do her duty.

A month later, Zeta was strolling down a dusty alley, browsing through the colourful displays set out in front of tiny shops. Her two bodyguards accompanied her, both wearing the local costume, and acting the part of companions. A casual observer would have seen three young women enjoying a shopping expedition. Only their watchful eyes betrayed them.

As the sister of the Matriarch of the Eridanus Constellation, Zeta would normally have been accompanied by a small armed squadron, but she had argued long and hard for the freedom to be incognito, just for once, while she was on holiday. "Terania is a primitive, agricultural world," she had argued. "Off-world weapons are banned. Indeed, all technology other than what you can build for yourself is forbidden. They actually make their own clothes and grow their own food. In the ground! Can you believe it?"

"A wooden spear through the chest can kill you just as thoroughly as a neuroblaster," had been the Matriarch's dry comment, watching Zeta as she paced up and down.

Zeta had patted the two daggers tucked inside her sleeves. "You know I can defend myself, if I need to, but I intend to keep a low profile. Sleep and solitude are what I need right now. Peace and quiet. And besides, Terania is an independent world, light years away from Rigella and the Orionists, and us, for that matter. I will be perfectly safe there."

The Eridanis and the Orion Sovereignty had been on this latest Verge of War footing for the last fifty years. To the best of Zeta's knowledge, the two Constellations had been rivals since history began, but the total destruction of the Saiph worlds a century ago had shocked both parties to the core. Since then, they'd contented themselves with occasional skirmishes and the odd assassination, anything to avoid another full scale war. The Verge of War status might not have been true peace but it was a truce... of sorts.