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NEW YEAR'S WAKE

A Terran Empire Story

by Ann Wilson

Copyright (C) 1992 by Ann Wilson

Isle of Skye, 1 Jan 2149 CE

It was just past midnight when the woman in wet, torn forest green sawwhat had to be the light from windows of a small house. She stumbledtoward it gratefully, hoping for warmth and some sort ofcommunications. Dammit, equipment failure and a plane crash were noway to start New Year's Day!

As she neared the house, she heard party sounds, and grinned. Itseemed that someone, at least, was having fun here on--if sheremembered her charts right--the Isle of Skye. The North Sea in winter. . . Yes, she was lucky to be alive. 

When she knocked on the door, the party sounds got louder--until thedoor opened, and someone saw her. 

"Och, we have a soaked lass out here!" the young man exclaimed. Heturned back into the house, called for blankets and a hot drink, thenput his arm around the woman, led her inside, and saw her settled intoa comfortable seat beside the fireplace. 

"Our first visitor, with no coal or whiskey, " an old man said ruefully. "No good omen for the New Year, no warmth for heart or hearth. "

"Och, uncle, 'tis no fault of hers, " the young man said. "It's coldand wet she is, in need of help. " He held a glass of whiskey to thewoman's lips, nodded as she sipped. "That's a good lass, " he saidapprovingly. "I'm Geordie MacGregor, and who may you be?"

The woman hesitated, hiding it with another sip of whiskey. Theyhadn't identified her from her uniform; should she . . . No. See whatthey were really like, first. "Lindner . . . Sue Lindner. My planewent down, and when I made it ashore, I saw your lights. " She turnedto the old man Geordie had called Uncle. "I'm sorry to be a bad omen, sir, but it may be I won't be that bad. "

"Ach, lass, I'm the one to be sorry, " Geordie's uncle replied. "'Tissuperstition, I know, but 'tis tradition as well. It's rest you shouldbe getting. "

"I would like to warm up a bit, then if you have a phone, I should calland let the people expecting me know where I am. I'll pay for thecall, of course; it's long distance. "

"You'll do no such thing, " the old man retorted. "I'll not have itbruited about that Donal MacGregor's lacking in proper hospitality. Aplane crash, you say, and your clothes half gone . . . Are you hurt?Will the Rescue Service not be looking for you?"

"I doubt it; my flight wasn't scheduled. And I'm not hurt, except fora few scratches and bruises. There's no need to disturb your party. "She'd discarded her boots and equipment belt for the swim ashore, andsometime during that swim or her wandering--probably coming ashore overthose rocks--she'd lost her badge and pretty well shredded her uniform. It was no wonder they didn't recognize her; she doubted she'd be ableto recognize herself, huddled under a blanket with her hair plastereddown by salt water. 

Another knock on the door brought laughter, especially from the womanwho opened it to admit a kilt-clad man bearing a piece of coal and abottle of whiskey. 

"'Tis a few minutes late you are, Angus, " Donal MacGregor called. "Ourfirst guest of the year is this poor cold lass here. "

"And half drowned, by the look of her, " Angus replied. He scowledferociously--a half-grin betraying his apparent ferocity--at the womantending Sue. "Tara, you know she needs something hot, not whiskey. "

"Bridget's making cocoa, as you should be able to smell, " Tararetorted. 

"It's made, " the young woman entering the room said, going straight toSue and handing her the steaming mug. 

Sue traded her whiskey glass for it, wrapping her hands around the mugto warm them and taking a deep breath of the chocolatey steam, whileher hosts gave Angus the story. 

When they were done, he looked at her curiously, with a half-grin. "Your name's a familiar one, lass. "

Sue returned his smile. He knew who she was, but he didn't seeminclined to spread his knowledge, if she chose not to reveal herself;he got points for discretion. "It's a common enough name, sir. Idon't believe we've met before. "

"No; I'd remember if we had. It's an honor now, though, and I'd bepleased if you'd call me Angus. "

"The honor is mine, Angus. " Sue smiled at him again, briefly. "Perhaps, under more formal circumstances, things would be different. At the moment, though, I'm just an unlucky pilot. "

"And so you are, lass. " Angus nodded once, then turned to their hosts. "Well, now, this is supposed to be a party. Tara, may I have the nextdance?"

"Indeed you may!" Tara--Sue guessed her to be Donal's wife--calledacross the room. "Geordie, some music!"

Sue felt herself relaxing as warmth crept back into her, and sheautomatically evaluated her surroundings. They were nothing like whatshe was used to: a small living room, festively decorated but obviouslynot rich--more homey, she thought, than anything else. Bookshelveslined one wall almost completely, their ranks broken only by two smallwindows and a holoset--on, but being ignored; she couldn't tell whatthe program was. A five- or six-person table held food and drinks; itlooked too heavy to move easily, so this was probably the dining room, as well. Wall decorations were mostly stitchery, though a crucifixheld a place of honor above the mantel. 

Not a rich place, no. And the party talk around her, gathered infragments from the twenty or so who crowded the room, didn't contradictthat impression. This seemed to be a subsistence-farming culture. . . Here on Terra? Well, it was possible; talk of farm animals, equipment, and markets, and canning, yes. Nothing of politics, or theEmpire, or the nobility, as was so common in the circles she was used to, but the warmth and friendship here had value of their own. These peoplemight not have much money, but they couldn't be called poor. 

Sue found herself pleased by that. It was people like these, afterall, who were the Empire's substance, its reason for being. It wasgood to be reminded of that, from time to time. Imperial nobles andofficers had the trappings of rank, yes, but the underlying purpose ofthat rank was to insure that Imperial citizens like these could livefreely and without fear. And she was one of those officers . . . Suesmiled to herself, and kept listening as carefully as Bridget kept herchocolate cup full and hot. 

The MacGregor farm, she found, wasn't a particularly prosperous oneeven by this island's standards. Donal's tractor was unreliable atbest, Geordie couldn't seem to find a sponsor who'd get him even as faras being tested for the Military Academy--well. It had been a longtime since she'd had an opportunity to indulge herself. 

About an hour after she'd been helped inside, Sue stood and attractedTara's attention. "Mrs. MacGregor, may I use your phone now?"

"Of course, lass. Back this way. "

"Thank you. " Sue looked around, gestured to Geordie and Donal. "Wouldyou come, too?"

The two men exchanged glances, then Donal shrugged and smiled. "If youwish, lass. "

The MacGregors did have a phone in the kitchen, Sue found, but it wasclear that they seldom used it; Tara had to move half a dozen jars ofcanned tomatoes before she could take the phone out of the cabinet. And it was basic: small 20-cm screen, push buttons instead of voiceactivation--probably black and white, too, Sue thought as sheactivated it. 

No, it was color. The screen lit up in pale green, reading 'Dial. ' AsSue entered the various access codes, the readout changed. Intercontinental . . . Antarctica . . . Imperial Palace. That gotmurmurs of surprise, which grew louder as she punched in the lastnumbers and the Imperial Seal appeared on the screen. 

"Voiceprint ID required, " a flat voice said. "Speak. "

"Ranger Susan M. Lindner, ident code RSR-0651-0173. "

"Ident confirmed. To whom do you wish to speak?"

"Castellan Gordon, please. "

"One moment, sir. "

Within seconds, the Seal disappeared, to be replaced by the face of agray-haired, tired-looking man. "What can I do for you . . . Ah . . . "He hesitated, frowning. "You haven't heard-- No, Comm Central saidyou weren't answering--"

"Heard what, Robert? My plane went down three or four hours ago, andthese people have spent the last hour drying me off and warming me withhot cocoa. " But from the Castellan's expression, she was afraid sheknew. The Emperor's health hadn't been good of late, and she reallyshouldn't have been half a world away . . . "When did it happen?"

"Apparently about the time you crashed, " Gordon said. "I believe heheard the New Year in. I hope he did . . . " The Castellan was silentfor a moment, then he went on. "He didn't seem to be in any pain, andDoctor Warren says it was simple heart failure. I've delayed makingthe public announcement until I could speak to you, get authorizationto call a Conclave at the same time. " He bowed as deeply as he couldand still remain on-screen. "By Your Majesty's leave?"

"You have authorization, " Ranger--now Empress--Susan Lindner said. Shehad known this was inevitable since her own election as Crown Princessat the first Conclave; establishing a precedent of peaceful, orderlytransfer of Imperial power was absolutely vital. "I'll need transport, and from the terrain I crossed, it'd better be something on the orderof a lander. I'm at the MacGregor farmstead, Isle of Skye; you shouldbe able to pinpoint me from this call. "

"Done, Majesty, " Gordon said after a couple of seconds. "A lander willbe on its way as soon as I'm dismissed, with Ranger Grissom and a squadof Palace Guards. Naturally, I'll give them a head start before Iinform the news media. Is there anything else?"

The Empress glanced around at the people near her, the ones who'dshared her surprise--and, in varying degrees, shock--at the news ofEmperor Chang's death. "I think so. A squad--no, better make it aplatoon--of Security Division Marines. The MacGregors can't be used topublicity, especially the kind my accession is going to bring. "

"Of course, Majesty. "

"Thank you, Castellan. Dismissed. "

Gordon bowed again. His image disappeared, was replaced momentarily bythe Imperial Seal before Susan hung up and turned to the three withher. They looked as stunned as she felt, and uncertain as well. Shecould understand that; it would be unsettling enough to have anImperial Ranger turn up on your doorstep, without having her turn intothe Empress on you. At least they knew enough about Imperial protocolnot to kneel to her, though Donal looked tempted. 

"This wasn't what I'd planned, you know, " Susan said. "I was onlycalling to arrange a pickup, then later I'd have seen that you got thereward you're entitled to for aiding a Ranger. "

Donal shook his head. "Nay, lass--I mean, Majesty. A man needs noreward for helping as the Good Book says. "

"No, " Susan said, smiling slightly. "I know you're taught that yourreward comes later. But the Empire tries for justice in this life, asmuch as we can; we punish actions that hurt it, and reward ones thathelp. " She held out her hands to the old man. "Will you help meagain, Donal, you and your family? Join me in mourning a dear friendbefore I have to officially take up a job no sane person would want?And keep calling me Sue, or lass, please? At least until Robert makesthe announcement?"

Donal saw the entreaty in her eyes, and nodded. Empress or no, she wasa woman, a crashed pilot, who had just lost a friend. "As you wish, lass. We've enough good whiskey for a proper wake, and a hangover curefor the morrow. "

Susan smiled in real gratitude. "Thank you, Donal. Now I think we'dbest rejoin the others. "

"Aye, lass. "

When they went back to the party and Donal explained that their guesthad just been told about the death of a close friend, Susan wassurrounded by suddenly-commiserating people, one of whom pressed adrink into her hand. She took a swallow, appreciating the gesture andunquestioning sympathy, so unlike the official condolences she'd bereceiving soon. 

A gentle, grandmotherly woman urged her to a seat. "Tell us about yourfriend, lass. What kind of man was he?"

Susan gave that a moment's thought, then smiled. She couldn't revealhis identity without ruining the party, which she didn't want to do, but that shouldn't be necessary. "He was a good man, Miz. One of themost intelligent, caring people I've ever had the privilege ofknowing--and I liked him, even if he did make those of us who worked mostclosely with him knock ourselves out trying to keep up. "

She chuckled. "I think one of the reasons we did work so hard for himwas that he demanded even more of himself than he asked of us. I can'timagine taking on some of the assignments I did for anyone else. "

"He sounds like a leader anyone could respect, " Angus said. "But haveyou nothing more . . . Ah . . . Human to share?"

"Well, yes, " Susan said, and knew her voice showed amusement. "He hada weakness for twentieth-century space opera. It showed up in someplaces you wouldn't expect unless you shared his fondness for it, andfor awhile we made a game out of tracing down anything that seemed tohave any sort of connection. "

She glanced at Angus, saw his matching amusement, and was certain he'dmade at least some of the same connections. There was no denying thatHis Majesty had had excellent reasons for his actions, fromestablishing the Empire on; even the Solar Federation Congress had beenable to understand that a democracy that was struggling to hold asingle system together couldn't possibly cope with what promised torapidly become thousands of systems. Aristocracy had worked, more orless, in one form or another, for thousands of years, so an Empire wasa natural solution--but it was also a classic idea in space opera. Andone of her own favorite touches was the Anthem; every government seemedto need one, so why not do as Emperor Chang had, and take aninstrumental piece already titled "Imperial Anthem" from a classiclate-twentieth-century entertainment tape? "Oh, " she went on, "henever let it interfere with serious business--but why not take whatenjoyment you can, after all?"

"No reason, " Angus said with a grin. "And did your friend also likeAmerican cowboy stories?"

"When he was a boy, yes. Until he got interested in space opera, anyway. " Susan returned his grin. "I've always thought he should havebeen born a Texan. "

The reminiscences continued as she was kept supplied with smoothly-potentwhiskey, and she was fully aware that she was well on the way tobeing thoroughly drunk. That was all right; the Palace Guards, whowould be the first to arrive, knew their Sovereign was quite human. And, being Marines, their medikits held sober pills she could use ifshe had to. 

Roughly two hours after her phone call, Susan and the rest of thepartiers were startled by the sound of a lander's null-grav engines, then by the first notes of the Imperial Anthem sounding from thealmost-forgotten holoset. As Gordon announced Chang's death and heraccession, Susan found Angus looking at her understandingly. Shenodded to him, smiling, then concealed a sigh. Her brief crash-causedleave was over; it was time to take on her new duties. 

 * * * * *

Isle of Skye, 3 Jan 2149

The scream of null-grav engines interrupted Tara MacGregor's housework. She ran outside, to see a brilliant scarlet lander settling to earthbarely ten meters from the front door. When its hatch opened and ascarlet-tunicked man emerged, she caught her breath. This was anImperial Messenger!

"Tara MacGregor?" the man asked. 

She nodded silently, and the Messenger bowed to her, extending a largegreen envelope. "I am instructed to deliver this with Her Majesty'scompliments, Mrs. MacGregor. She asks that you contact CastellanGordon with your reply. " He bowed again, and left as swiftly as he'darrived. 

Tara watched him go before she opened the envelope with hands that wereshaking slightly. It held three items: a bill of sale for a newtractor, an authorization form for Geordie to take the Academy entranceexaminations, and a smaller envelope with a handwritten note: "Yougave a crashed pilot hospitality, and a grieving woman sympathy. Iwould like to return at least the hospitality; will you all be myguests for Coronation Week?" It was initialed S. M. L. 

As Tara started to go back into the house, she heard shouted questions, and stopped to wait for Donal and Geordie, who were approaching at arun. She didn't bother saying anything; the papers she held out spokefor themselves. 

Both men looked them over with the same mixture of amazement andpleasure Tara was sure she'd had. It was Donal who finally spoke, looking south toward the Antarctic palace none of them had ever thoughtto see. "Aye, lass, " he said softly. "Aye, we'll accept yourhospitality. "

END