They arrived in groups of twos and threes, arm in arm, as most religious people traveled. As the main flow of guests was passing through the front entrances, the three dozen officers went in through the back. Some had to be relieved of their weapons at the door—everyone was packing on Earth these days, including the clergy. A few of the conspirators even put up a minor struggle before agreeing to disarm, but this was all part of the plan. Dressed exactly as they were — priests again! — Hunter and Joxx walked into the party without a blink from the guards, just as Hunter knew they would.
Once inside the grubby, expansive hallway, the officers linked up again. Trying to remain inconspicuous, they drank the putrid red wine and pretended to inhale the cancan, but most important was that they kept their heads.
They were on hand for about twenty minutes when the Emperor Michael showed up, unannounced as usual, surrounded by his ring of bodyguards, who always seemed just as intoxicated as he, if not more. This party was in anticipation of the sixth annual Earth Race. The topic of conversation around the room had to do with rumors that the first race was supposedly fixed yet again this year, that some of the drivers were being tipped off which of the 666 human targets sent out on to the track were older, more feeble, or ill, and therefore easier to shoot down. It made for many intriguing arguments, all of which grew more intense as the wine began to flow.
A presentation of sorts was on the agenda. The previous winner was on hand to relinquish his trophy, during which Michael would give him yet another box of money. It took a long time to get everyone in the room to pay attention as the small ceremony began. The Emperor was standing with the fifth-year winner, rings of goons and drunken military officers nearby, as shouts for order rang up and down the hall.
Finally Michael began slurring a small but rambling speech. When it was over, the old winner handed him the trophy, and Michael handed him his money. The man took his box of cash and walked right out of the building without another word.
Michael shrugged and turned around to accept another glass of wine from his bodyguard. He found himself facing a half-dozen priests instead. They were here to offer a prayer, one said. Michael burped in reply, not quite remembering this part of the ceremony. That's when each conspirator removed the large silver cross from around his neck and quickly removed a piece of wax adhered to its lower tip. This revealed a sharpened razor-edged point.
"God Bless you," the first conspirator said. With that, he plunged his sharpened cross into Michael's chest. Michael grunted once and then looked down to discover another sharpened cross sticking out of his thorax. Then, quickly, came another. And another. And another. And another.
The rest of the priests set upon Michael's coterie of goons, stabbing them viciously and retrieving their weapons. A massive gunfight broke out. The majority of guests panicked and charged for the exits, blocking the way for any of the security troops to get inside. The drunken bodyguards made easy killing for the thirty-six officers. A slash across the throat, a thrust to the stomach, and they were gone.
Through it all, Michael just stood there and shuddered as more sharpened crosses plunged into him. A handful of surviving bodyguards finally managed to surround him and blink him out of the party and then straight off the planet.
All this had taken place not five feet away from where Hunter and Joxx had put themselves. In fact, Michael looked them both in the eye as he was quickly fading away.
According to the mind ring, his last words to his would-be assassins were, "I think this means war…."
Flash!
Hunter and Joxx were standing at the bottom of a large hill.
It was nighttime. The air smelled of summer.
Joxx breathed in deeply. This place was a welcome change from the gruesome, scary nature of Brother Michael's imperial city.
They climbed the hill swiftly. At the top was a patch of soft, high grass and a view that stretched for miles. Below them was a small town, a lake, a river. A building like a high school. Above them, all those stars.
"An interesting setting," Joxx told Hunter, breathing in again. "A curious one as well."
Hunter looked around, very familiar with the pastoral setting now.
"You wouldn't understand," he said. "But this place looks a lot like another place that was once very special to me."
Indeed it was almost a dead ringer for a hill he'd once spent two nights on, wide awake, looking at the stars, waiting. Possibly this place was the inspiration for its twin.
He thought now what he'd thought the last three dozen times he'd come here in the mind ring trip: I wonder if I can see her house from here.
Joxx began to press him on this subject, but stopped. His instincts, though numbed from this crazily assembled mind trip, still hummed enough to know that this was a topic he'd best not pester his host about.
He knew that much about Hunter by now.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, letting the new setting sink in.
Finally Hunter spoke: "As far as I could determine, the night that Michael was stabbed, a series of coups against his regime took place at key locations throughout the Empire. The rebels managed to gain control of many strategic parts of the Galaxy, thanks to what the 36 Coalition did here on Earth. Lots of fighting followed, during which Michael's security thugs got him off the planet and sped him to a safety way, way out on the Seventh Arm. He stayed there for a few years, building up his forces and finally beginning a march back to Earth. The 36 Coalition built up its forces as well, and went out to meet them."
Hunter pointed toward the constellation once known as Ursa Major.
"Do you know that part of the sky?" he asked Joxx.
"Certainly, the majority of key stars can be found below the Four Arm," Joxx replied. "I've been there once or twice."
"Then watch closely," Hunter told him. "In three… two… one…"
There was a sudden bright flash slightly to the left of the tail of the star formation. It burned for a few seconds, then faded away.
Joxx began to ask a question, but Hunter raised his hand and stopped him. Another flash. This one not far from the first. Then came another, and another.
The Solar Guards' commander knew enough about space warfare to realize what he was looking at was a battle of major proportions being fought with weapons whose muzzle flashes were firing off at close to Supertime speed. Only that way could these powerful bolts be visible from the Earth.
"They will call it the Battle of Alpha Nebula," Hunter told him. "The first real clash of forces loyal to Michael and those trying to prevent his return to Earth. It was a big win for the 36 Coalition."
Flash!
Same hill, same view, about a month later.
Joxx was still shaking off the effects of the unexpected jump.
"Up there," Hunter said, pointing toward the group of stars once known as Hercules. "Know it?"
"Of course," Joxx replied. "Six Star Gulch is up there. So is the BK-South Star Cloud. Two of the best stops on the old Five Arm."
"Watch this then," Hunter told him.
No sooner had he spoken when that part of the sky lit up. There were a series of five major flare-ups, followed by at least a dozen smaller ones. They were so sharp, so bright, Joxx imagined he could almost hear the booming from the enormous cobalt weapons exchanges. He knew of course what he was actually looking at were thousands of igniting blasts constricted, contracted and telescoped by its superquick passage through space.