Stardust Dreams (7 page)

Inside the Mosque of Omar
in Jerusalem, Bessima stood behind a marble column. Shrouded in the concealing
garments of an Arab female, she attracted no attention to herself. There were
many visitors that day, both the devout and the curious, who had come to see
the rock from which Muhammad allegedly had ascended to heaven.

Suddenly a fierce-looking
man, in traditional Muslim attire, was standing on the rock, scanning the faces
of the people beyond the guardrail. Within seconds, shocked murmurs rippled
through the crowd.

"I am the prophet,
Muhammad," the man loudly declared in an old Arabic dialect. He waited
until several onlookers confirmed that he did indeed look like drawings they
had seen.

The prophet continued in a
booming voice that echoed off the dome of the mosque. "You must prepare
yourselves for Judgment Day. Allah, the one and only God is coming. Those who
disobey Allah's words or do not believe will be punished. Behold the face Allah
will wear and remember it."

For a few seconds, an image
hung in the air above Muhammad, then it and he disappeared.

Bessima sighed with relief
as she observed the people around her. This had gone much better than the
visitation at Our Lady of Lourdes. The Arabs were properly shaken by the
prophet's appearance and appeared to accept his warning. It confirmed her
suspicion that she had to avoid the places where large numbers of Americans
congregated until the very end of her mission. She had been on Terra long
enough to discover how jaded the Americans were.

If the princess had known
more about these Terrans before sending off Bessima, her most able warrior, she
might not even be there. But the princess had been convinced that Terra was the
ideal planet for the relocation of her people and that the natives were a
primitive, easily conquered species.

Bessima now knew better,
but there was no way to advise the princess of her discoveries. As she had been
ordered, Bessima destroyed the ship that had brought her there a year ago. The
only thing she could do at this point was head for Asia next, and hope for the
best.

The warrior could not help
but wonder how the rest of the princess's plan was progressing. From the
beginning it had been understood that if the royal plan did not come to fruition,
Bessima would be stranded on Terra for the rest of her life. If that were to
happen, however, she had already learned of several countries that would suit
her needs and accept her leadership.

Princess Honorbound
inspected the platter of cooked morset ribs offered by the servant boy and
chose one the size of her forearm. The other four men and five women seated on
the floor around the huge stone slab that served as a table waited tensely as
she brought the meaty bone to her teeth and ripped off a chunk of meat. A
trickle of juice escaped the corner of her mouth and ran down her chin while
she tested the flavor and texture. With a wave of the bone, she gave the boy
permission to serve the others.

Josep, the princess's
elderly chief advisor, selected the smallest piece from the heap of bloody
meat. He rarely ate animal flesh anymore, but it would have been an insult to
refuse. With the exception of brief visits, such as this one, his duties had
kept him away from the princess for most of the last twenty years. During that
time he had adopted many of the ways of the more civilized people he dealt
with.

Although he still owed his
allegiance to Honor-bound, he saw her as the barbarian she was. Already taller
and larger-boned than the average man, her gold-plated helmet with its morset
antlers made her appear even bigger, and she rarely took off the royal helmet.

The animal skin slung
around her hips was her only concession to modesty as she was extremely proud
of her muscular body with its numerous jagged scars. But barbarian or not, the
ornate gold medallion that hung from a leather thong around her neck declared
her a member of the royal family of the planet Illusia, and therefore, his
superior.

From various civilizations
they had conquered, they had gained sophisticated weaponry as well as the
ability to travel through space at great speeds, but they preferred to maintain
their primitive existence in every other aspect of their life. Besides animal
skins comprising most of their attire, fire was still the primary source of
light and heat. And their manners and traditions had not altered in a thousand
years.

According to custom, no one
spoke during the meal; only the sounds of open-mouthed chewing, slurping, and
finger-licking echoed through the cavernous chamber.

As Josep glanced at the
other eight people who made up the princess's council, he realized how soft he
had become in his years away. The animalistic urges that drove these warriors
were also present within Josep, but he had learned to control such barbaric
tendencies. Now, however, sitting among them, he could almost feel himself
regressing to their level once again.

Before leaving his ship, he
had removed the flowing red robe he normally wore and donned a fur tunic that
failed to completely conceal the deterioration of his aging body. But his
status had been determined by his mind, not his strength, so his white hair and
sloping shoulders did not alter the respect he was paid by his fellow council
members.

As the others did, Josep
tossed his unwanted scraps into the center of the table. Before the final
course was served, the garbage had grown to a sizable mound of gnawed bones.

Emitting an elongated
belch, Princess Honor-bound announced the end of a highly satisfying meal. "So,
Josep, my friend, do you bring us good news?"

All eyes turned to him in
anticipation. "Some, though not as good as you had hoped. When I left
Norona several weeks ago, the Consociation representatives were almost evenly
divided about what action should be taken with regard to Illusias
dilemma."

With the long curved
fingernail of her right index finger, Honorbound picked a piece of meat out of
her tooth and flicked it onto the bone pile. "That is not unexpected. What
about Gallant Voyager? Where is he?"

Josep noted how unconcerned
she tried to look and knew it was for the others' sake. Her anxious thoughts
came through to him whether she wished it or not. "The Consociation
Regent, Esquinerra, heeded my suggestion to give Voyager the assignment to
track down the Weebort trader. At the time I departed, I was informed that
Voyager was on his way to Innerworld Earth, where the Weebort was last reported
to be."

"And the
assassin?" Honorbound asked with a little more interest.

"Frezlo was also
headed in the same direction."

"Good," she said,
but so much more was going on in her head that only Josep could hear.

He was one of the very few
of their people who had been born telepathic. That ability had earned him his
position as the princess's chief advisor. On the other hand, her fear of that
ability caused her to give him a mission that would keep him far from her side
most of the time. It was a mixed blessing at best.

She questioned him on a few
other matters before adding her own piece of information. "According to
the chronology of our plan, Bessima should be planting her seeds now as well. It
is too bad we could not maintain contact with her, but she is most trustworthy.
She will complete her assignment in the time frame she was given, then all will
be ready for us."

The princess clapped her
hands, and a short, plump woman in her middle years appeared seconds later. An
abrupt hand signal from her mistress was all the instruction the servant
required before she was off again.

"Your timing was
excellent, Josep," Honorbound said with a smile. "You may have
already guessed by our feast that we had a celebration planned for tonight even
before your arrival. Five of our children have reached full maturity and are
ready to be integrated."

The plump woman returned
then, leading three young men and two young women, all wearing only a piece of
white linen wrapped diaper-style, and a white band circling each of their
heads. They stood at stiff attention in a straight line as the princess rose
and inspected each one from head to toe.

"Not a bad-looking
group," Honorbound said to the woman, who immediately beamed at the
praise. "You must have fed them better than the last candi-dates. Let's
hope it did not lessen their hunger for more important things."

Josep had not participated
in a Maturation Ceremony in a very long time. It was the most important day in
the life of an Illusian, but he wondered if he was up to it.

The princess must have
caught him frowning, because she laughed and said, "Don't worry my old
friend. Your own maturity permits you to sit and observe the first half of the
ceremony."

Josep nodded in
appreciation, but he had received the unspoken message that his active
participation in the second half was mandatory if he did not wish to be shamed
in front of the others. His gaze traveled over the maidens and was met by a
particularly bold stare from the more well-formed of the two. She clearly
intended to receive the high honor of being chosen by the chief advisor. As his
body responded to her look of raw sexual hunger, Josep shed his fear that he
would not be able to perform as expected.

The princess stepped back
from the novitiates and removed the thong and medallion from her neck. With the
thong wrapped around her clenched fist, she held the medallion in front of her
as she spoke. "This royal medallion has been handed down through my family
for nine hundred years. As the current possessor, I have sworn to protect all
of Illusia and to regain the power we once held.

"To that end we have
struggled to replenish our army with strong bodies and aggressive minds. You
five come before the council this evening on the brink of maturity. Are you
prepared to shed childhood and accept the responsibility of mature
adults?"

"Yes, I am," the
five answered in unison.

"And do you welcome
this initiation?"

"Yes, I do," they
replied.

Honorbound nodded her head
and they all knelt. She walked up to the first young man in the line and
pressed the medallion to his forehead. "To what do you owe your total
allegiance?"

"The honor and glory
of Illusia," he responded firmly.

"To whom do you grant
the power over your life and death?"

"The possessor of the
medallion may take my life if I ever dishonor our people."

"Do you swear to
destroy all enemies of Illusia?" I do.

"And who are your
enemies?"

The young man's face
twisted into a savage snarl as he roared his answer. "All Noronians and
their allies!"

She repeated the
oath-taking with the other four, then turned to her council. "You have
witnessed their vows of loyalty. Now witness their bravery and strength. Let
the battles begin."

The young people rose and
all but the first moved to the edge of the room. The princess's second in
command stood and strode to the novitiate. He was taller, heavier, and had the
advantage of experience, but the younger man reflected the utmost confidence in
his own abilities.

The servant woman brought
forward a tray bearing two short-bladed knives and waited until each man had
taken up a weapon. The moment she backed away, the experienced warrior and the
young hopeful began circling each other.

Honorbound stated the rules
of the skirmish. "This is for blood only. Death is not desirable. The
fight ceases when the novitiate receives a scarring cut, the badge of his
courage. However, I remind you that the longer it takes for the council member
to deliver that blow, the greater the honor for the new warrior." She
returned to her place, then clapped her hands once. "To blood."

The young man did not
disappoint the observers as he demonstrated considerable agility to counter the
smallness of his frame. He did not manage to mark the commander, but he avoided
being sliced for an impressive length of time.

By the time the first
novitiate received his cut, Josep's blood was singing in his veins. He was
tempted to change his mind and take on one of the others after all, but another
hot look from the girl made him decide to conserve his energy.

A different council member
battled each of the young warriors, and every one of them could be proud of his
or her show of bravery. After all their wounds were bound in such a way to
insure attractive scars, the princess pronounced the end of the first part of
the ceremony.

The council briefly
rehashed the skirmishes and declared that the two novitiates who had fought the
most valiantly and the longest were the second young man and the maiden who had
been eyeing Josep. They would be rewarded with the highest honor of all—having
their virginities taken by the princess and her chief advisor. The others were
partnered by rank and ability in a like manner. In preparation, the stone table
was cleared of debris and covered with a white cloth.

Josep completely abandoned
his veneer of civility as the princess and the new warrior removed their wraps.
From opposite sides, they crawled onto the makeshift stage, growling, clawing,
and biting each other like animals. Josep soon found himself urging the young
man to greatness as loudly as the others. In practically no time at all, the
princess's bellow of pleasure proclaimed the boy to be a man in every way, even
before she removed his white headband.