《The Privateer》Chapter 47: The Hall of Masters
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Yvian removed her helmet, breathing in her first taste of real atmosphere. It smelled... kind of gross. Burnt fuel, dust, and another smell she couldn't identify. Hot air rushed against her face in fits and gusts. It was like standing in front of a malfunctioning air vent. "This is not what I thought a planet would smell like," remarked Lissa, wrinkling her nose. "That would be the asphalt," Mims told her. "The krog use it for their landing pads. They like the smell it makes." Their shuttle took off, blasting them with more hot air. The black material that made up the landing pad bubbled where the thrusters had melted the stuff. The asphalt stretched for two kilometers in every direction. Landing pads were marked by yellow lines. Each pad was thirty meters by thirty meters. Shuttles continued to land and take off as she watched, a constant stream of people shuffling down lanes marked in white between pads. In the distance, she could see a large building. "Is that where we're headed?" Yvian asked, pointing at the structure. The building looked to be four decks tall, with towers that doubled that height at regular intervals. Beyond the building she could see nothing but yellow ground. Sand? Were they in a desert? "No." Mims checked his wrist. "We're getting the VIP treatment. Our ride should be here in a minute." Before Yvian could ask what a VIP was, a vehicle flew overhead and descended to the landing pad. Yvian thought it was another surface shuttle at first, but it quickly resolved into a gravcar. Smaller than shuttles, the blocky vehicle's antigravity field hummed as it landed. A door slid open, and the party climbed inside. The gravcar took off the second the door was closed. Yvian didn't feel the sway of inertia. She took a seat and looked out the window. She watched the landing pad fall away, shrinking rapidly as the gravcar took to the sky. "I don't see any other gravcars," Lissa remarked. "That's cause there aren't any," said Mims. "The skyports are restricted airspace. We get a gravcar cause King Tallest said so, but everyone else has to use the underground transport system." "That was nice of him," Lissa said. "I guess he really likes you." "More like he doesn't want to risk us getting lost." Mims gazed out the window, chin in hand. "If we're late to stand before the Board it'll reflect badly on him." "Uh, Mims," said Yvian, "What exactly is the Board of Masters?" "You don't know?" Lissa's eyebrows rose. "Right," Mims remembered. "We haven't got that far in your logistics training." He took a breath. "The Board of Masters is exactly what it sounds like. They're a governing body made up of the most respected elders the krog have to offer." "Governing body?" Yvian's brow furrowed. "I thought Krog was a monarchy." "It is," said Mims. "They think it's the most efficient form of government, but only if you've got a good king. The Board of Masters decides whether or not the king's doing a good job. If he's not, they remove him. And by remove, I mean kill him and his entire bloodline. Then they pick a new king." "Oh," Yvian grunted. "So they're kind of a big deal." "The biggest." Mims shifted, crossing his legs and leaning back with his hands behind his head. "A Certificate of Mastery is kind of a lifetime achievement award. To get one you have to show complete mastery of your field and demonstrate wisdom and competence in all things for at least a decade. There are thirty billion krog, but there are only a couple hundred Masters. Anyone with a certificate wields enormous power and prestige." "Oh," Yvian grunted. "So they're kind of a big deal." Danil Starlancer snorted. He'd been so quiet Yvian had barely noticed he was still with them. "You could say that," the Captain's lip quirked. "Yeah." After a half hour, they passed the ring of floating sentry turrets that marked the no fly zone. Yvian started to see roads and buildings in the desert. They dotted the landscape in small clusters at first, but grew steadily denser as they progressed. Soon, they were flying over a city. The city was probably only a few hundred kilometers across, smaller than a lot of stations. Tiny compared to a Jumpgate. But as the gravcar moved into a traffic lane lined with floating beacons, it felt much, much bigger. Dozens of traffic lanes at different elevations overflowed with traveling gravcars. Buildings towered over them, massive structures of stone and steel and glass. In the distance far below Yvian saw throngs of people moving briskly from place to place. The hum of the antigravity fields from all the gravcars mixed with the soft murmur of the crowds below, a constant buzz, but not as loud as she would have expected. In the center of the city was a massive block, half a kilometer long, half a kilometer wide, and reaching two full kilometers into the sky. The building was topped with a statue of an ancient armored krog with a hammer in his hand. The statue itself was a quarter of the height of the building. "Threeball," Mims identified the statue. "The first Master. They say he discovered how to make steel and used it to conquer half the world." "Is that where we're going?" Lissa asked. "Yeah." "Tha Hall of Masters," Starlancer mused. "One of three repositories of all the knowledge the krog possess. I think we'll be the first aliens allowed to set foot there." "You're the only alien," Mims told him. "The rest of us are technically krog." "I suppose that makes me special, then." The brilend crossed his arms and leaned back with a small smile. It took the gravcar another twenty minutes to reach the Hall of Masters. The vehicle slid out of the skylane and into one of the marked descent lanes, lowering itself between the floating blue lights. Upon arriving at ground level, the door opened. Mims and company exited the vehicle to find a small contingent of armored guards waiting for them. The lead guard stepped forward. "I be Nosepick. I take you to Board. No speak in Hall of Masters. No wander. No touch things. Got it?" After everyone had given their assent, the other guards formed up around them. A set of large tungsten doors slid open, and they marched into the Hall of Masters. Yvian found herself in a vast open area. Columns and arches of polished stone supported a ceiling sheathed in steel. The floor was coated in the metal as well, all buffed and shined to a mirror sheen. Statues stood in neat orderly rows, with open space forming corridors between them. The statues were made of a variety of materials, ranging from stone and wood to holographic images. Their honor guard lead them down the main passage. As they passed, Yvian saw that the statues each depicted a krog in such perfect detail that they almost seemed alive. There were words at the base of the statues. Names. Yvian guessed they were former heroes or Masters from krog history. At the other end of the (foyer? Display room?) area they came to a large door trimmed with gold. Yvian noticed the walls around the door were covered in carved wood panels depicting krogs using ancient melee weapons. Nosepick pressed a button, and the door opened. An elevator, big enough to fit the group and their honor guard with room to spare. Yvian guessed the Board of Masters would be on the top floor, but the elevator went down. Way down. They descended for a full three minutes. The doors slid open to reveal a hallway. Nosepick led them down to a simple wooden door and ushered them inside. Yvian found herself in a large chamber, built like half a circle. A small platform sat in the middle of the chamber. Eight rows filled with evenly spaced krog surrounded the platform. The first row was two meters above it, with each row behind it being raised an additional two meters. She saw Fightsmart and King Tallest in the second row. Armed guards stood at attention at regular intervals along the walls. Nosepick led Danil Starlancer to a corner, telling him to keep quiet and record the proceeding. Then he brought Mims, Lissa, and Yvian to stand on the platform in the center of the room. "Need to test truthiness box," he said, pointing to a small machine on the edge of the platform. He pointed at Lissa. "You. Tell lie." "Uh..." Lissa shrugged. "I hate beer." A klaxon sounded. The red light on top of the truthiness box flashed red for several seconds. Nosepick grunted and pointed at Yvian. "I don't watch Space Captain," she said, eliciting another reaction from the machine. Nosepick pointed at Mims. "I'm a nice person," said Mims. The truthiness box lit up. Nosepick let out another grunt and left the platform. He and the rest of their honor guard trooped out of the chamber. In the center of the first row, a white haired, ancient looking krog raised a metal sphere and slammed it down on the desk in front of him. A deep gong crashed through the chamber. Yvian noticed that most of the Masters wore robes of red, except King Tallest, who wore gold. The krog with the sphere wore a robe of liquid steel. "Mimsey-cake," The krog intoned. " Prettypants, Blockhead. You stand before Board of Masters. We see. We judge. You be worthy or you die. Got it?" "Yes," said the human. "Yes," said the pixens. The ancient krog slammed the sphere again. "Performance evaluation start now." He set down the sphere. "Is you loyal to krog?" Loyal? Yvian glanced at Mims. She wanted to say yes, but the truthiness box would know if she lied. The three of them had betrayed the Confederation, and by extension the krog, to the Xill. Even if they hadn't, she didn't know much about the Krog Monarchy, and had very little investment in their well being. Lissa was looking at the Captain as well. She looked as nervous as Yvian felt. The human seemed calm as ever. He stood at ease, hands clasped behind his back, head tilted slightly as he decided how to answer. She was surprised the truthiness box wasn't blaring at the lie he was telling with his body. After a few seconds of thought, Mims shrugged. "Nope." There was a moment of silence as his answer registered with the Board. Then the shouting started. Yvian couldn't make out everything that was said, but one phrase was shouted louder than the others, More and more voices took up the phrase as the seconds rolled past. "Kill him! Kill him!"
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