The Third Book of the Alienbutt saga. Emperor of the Universe. Part 47.

“You have a hyper jump here?” the Ick officer said in shock.
“It’s just a small mobile one. Kirk usually goes through to a factory on JB 247 that produces tomato soup, I have an agreement with the owner,” Frank said guiltily. “The hyper jump Fluffy is using is the mark two and it’s thirty years out of date. I’ve refined the technology half a dozen times since then. I’m using a private network between here and my supplier but can easily hack into the main network.”
“Am I hearing this right? You’re using the most advanced transport system in the universe to go food shopping?” Nifty said in disbelief. “Did it never cross your mind what the military application of this could be?”
“Apart from transporting something that is classified by the Ick as a chemical weapon into their own control centre? I doubt he did,” Alienbutt said shaking his head in amusement.
“How does this mobile network for the hyper jump work?” Whiff asked.
“Give us the Alienbutt explanation,” Alienbutt said before Frank could start to speak.
“You need two control boxes, a master box and the anchor box that you set to the correct modular settings and switch them on. It does its science stuff and it’s ready to go,” Frank said.
“Science stuff?” Nifty asked.
“That’s my term, when it’s anything science or mathematical he just uses the phrases ‘science stuff’ or ‘number thingy’. It means I understand what the hell he’s on about,” Alienbutt said with a smile.
“So how big is the slave box? Can it be carried?” Whiff asked, her interest obvious. “Is there a limit to how much can be moved through at a time?”
“Well I’ve not tested the limits of its operational capabilities but with an anti-gravity trolley it could easily be transported around,” Frank said.
“If we do have prisoners at that facility, I think we have a way to spring a jail break,” Whiff said, sitting back in her chair with a smile.
“Send word to Major Kaela, I want his marines here ready to go in with me to disable the shield and find any prisoners,” Alienbutt said. “Nifty will lead the fleet and once we’ve got our job done, they demolish the entire site from space.”

Ponnfarr, wearing the long flowing robe of a Kal Dar priest, walked into the new Heeter throne room. He was part of the entourage belonging to Lord Walfo, as were ten of his own hand-picked men. Every lord that could possibly be mustered attended the royal audience. The new king was making an announcement on the fate of the Heeter people in light of the recent withdrawal of the Federation garrison. More than a hundred more of his men were strategically situated around the throne room, hidden amongst the entourage of other lords who had secretly sworn loyalty to the queen since her arrival the day before.
The stationing of the Federation garrison on Heeter had done nothing to improve the new king’s standing and many of the lords saw him as a direct puppet of the Federation. With their departure, his position was in danger and the major lords who had plotted to remove the old king and place him on the throne were acting fast to head off any trouble.
Unfortunately, they had not acted fast enough and had personally escorted that trouble into their presence. Somewhere in the crowd was his queen and she was going to remove her cousin sitting upon her throne.
The rules and laws of Heeter honour were seen as odd to outsiders and had remained unchanging for thousands of years, standing as the oldest unchanged legal system in the known universe. To the people of Heeter, honour was everything when it came to social standing and even the greatest of lords could be reduced to impoverishment if he acted without honour.
The system didn’t work to lift an honourable pauper to the heights of lord but the poor took more delight in seeing the nobility humbled than in one of their own rising to power. It was a truth of the universe, common to all species; the masses took greater delight in seeing someone fall than someone rise.
As the doors to the throne room slammed shut, the murmuring of the assembled crowd trailed off. Within the throne room, apart from the Royal Guard, all weapons were forbidden. Swords and daggers of the gladiators and the personal weapons of an envoy were permitted because of tradition.
Over the centuries this simple law had prevented many bloodbaths when power changed hands, instead it led to mass brawls ending in a fair few black eyes and broken bones. The rules in place for gladiators ensured they could only use their tools of the trade against another gladiator and until recent times envoys tended to be old men who could be easily overpowered. It didn’t totally prevent deaths in truth; after any attempt to remove a king, the losing side lost the heads of their house, those lords ended up with their heads removed.
As the new king finally walked into the throne room, an angry murmuring began. The king was flanked by Lord Sthrom and Lord Rasten, two of the leaders in the coup that saw the Federation invade and kill the old king. Many of the lords had been angered at the way the new king took the throne, placed there by outsiders. Ponnfarr and his Queen were hoping they could use that anger to their advantage when they made their move. The plan was daring and dangerous and Ponnfarr hated it, but his wife had been unmoving and he stood nervously waiting for it to play out.
As the king sat down, the crowd before the throne knelt in the traditional response. That was the moment the Queen made her move. Throwing off her hooded cloak, she remained standing.
“You are not the true king. I challenge you to personal combat as the true Queen of Heeter,” the queen said, stepping forward.
The king shrank back into the throne as Lord Sthrom and Lord Raston moved forward to protect their puppet monarch.
“Seize the traitor!” Lord Sthrom shouted to the Royal Guard lining the sides of the throne room. The head of the Royal Guard, Ryk Thern stepped forward as Ponnfarr prepared to act.
“The Queen has made a legitimate claim as daughter of the old king; her right to single combat is upheld by the Royal Guard,” Thern said, his hand on his sword.
Lord Sthrom stood in a barely controlled rage at the words of the Royal Guard. “Let us see the champions then,” Lord Sthrom demanded.
“In a challenge of royal succession there are no champions. The two face each other in single combat,” the head of the Royal Guard replied.
Ponnfarr rose to his feet in shock, that wasn’t part of the plan. He was supposed to fight against the king’s champion, the new king was a fool but he was a fool trained in combat. How could his wife hope to fight against a trained Heeter warrior?

To be continued.
All images are mine.