Feldheim – World of The Misplaced Dungeon

{Timeline: One year after the end of Portends – MD: 6 months to a year after Ch. 148}

Garrilau Garrilas smiled at his assistant. The boy was so very earnest; he had promise, just so long as he learned to curb his enthusiasm.

“What do you have for me Reejal?”

Reejal licked his lips apprehensively, “I found something funny, I think, well I know it is absurd but, something is approaching us at about half the speed of light.”

Garrilau just looked at his assistant. Then he asked, “How did you discover this? What proof do you have?”

“Well sir. I was hunting comets using all the footage we have thanks to all fascination with Neighbour. I found two flashes, months apart. I think it is the same item, and that gave me the speed.” Reejal finished his explanation and stared at his course mentor with eager, begging eyes.

“Show me,” ordered Garrilas indicating the lab’s computer.

Reejal hurried over eagerly and started calling up footage of Skyeye’s observation of Neighbour, the stellar system containing the planet Fragatta. Garrilau saw the two flashes his assistant mentioned and then ordered the computer to check the presumed course of the presumed object.

They found another flash, this one far dimmer, but it served to solidify Reejal’s theory.

“What do you think is causing the flashes sir?” asked Reejal.

“I suspect, but can’t prove, that whatever that is, has a screen or force field. And that those flashes occurred when some spec of dust or micro meteor hit the – that thing’s meteor shield,” speculated Garrilau.

“The world builders from Neighbour sir? You think that is one of their space ship,” asked a wide-eyed Reejal.

Garrilau winced, “They haven’t built any worlds, they are modifying conditions on the surface of Fragatta and its water moon. But, yes, one of the world engineer’s space ships. Write it up Reejal, but avoid speculating about aliens. The flashes and the assumed speed will get us a direct look via Skyeye. Show me when you have it written up, make it something you can publish, and I’ll sign it off.”

* * *

Once again Garrilau had been allowed to use the focusing magics of Halius the Far Sighted in conjunction with Skyeye. And he had been lucky; something had hit the craft’s meteor shield. The tiny spec of light had been visible, even if the craft itself was too small to pick up.

Garrilau and Reejal had also been able to detect gravity lensing around the object; after all, it was travelling at just over half the speed of light.

Once again, Garrilau Garrilas found himself in the middle of a media storm. And once again he did his best to crawl back into obscurity. He found his overeager assistant extremely helpful. Reejal loved the media spotlight and was actually grateful to Garrilau for pushing him forward.

* * *

Halve Swiftbolt, the minister of interstellar affairs for the Second Sylvan Republic watched as the famous astronomer Garrilau Garrilas left his office. Swiftbolt drummed his fingers on his desk as he plotted how to turn the news to his advantage.

It had only been four months ago that he had lost one of the endemic power struggles in the chamber of deputies. It was then that the department of interstellar affairs had been created. And he had found himself with a fancy title, a minimal staff and no duties, and far more importantly, no power. He had feared his career was over, and he wasn’t even three hundred years old yet.

Now the alien world engineers from Neighbour were on their way. And depending on just how powerful their drive was, how long it would take them to decelerate from the insane speed they were coming at. They had anything from six months to two years to greet them.

After considering the staff of the department of interstellar affairs he decided to write the report himself. He really didn’t trust one of the incompetents that had been shuffled sideways into his department by the senior civil servants responsible for the other departments. He grinned sadistically; the President was going to go spare at the news.

* * *

His Excellency Prince Holliston Redpine, president of the Second Sylvan Republic sipped his tea. He lounged back in his comfortable chair as he watched his advisors with hooded eyes. The small crystal topped table in the pretty nook by the big windows overlooking the Wild Wood held his prized tea service.

The ministers of the Republic sat sipping tea. Most looked uneasy. Halve Swiftbolt hid his exultation well. He was well aware Prince Holliston had been, and was still, furious.

The dance between the secular empires had just become far more difficult. Swiftbolt had given those present the news, and now, as his president and prince had instructed him, he held his tongue.

Rutilius, the elderly elf who was in charge of the department of the exterior, cleared his throat. Prince Holliston looked at him and raised an eyebrow in enquiry. “Ah hum, your Excellency, do you think this has any bearing on why the states of the Alliance of the Deeps are stirring. Showing more – ah hum, confidence?”

“I doubt it, after all the Theocrat of the Dark has become very obnoxious recently. But then you are the Minister of Foreign Affairs Rutilius. Find out!”

“Yes Sire,” agreed Rutilius hastily.

Prince Holliston looked round at his advisors, reducing them all to nervous silence. “Go, work out how to calm our citizens. General, put our armed forces on alert. Make sure the anti riot forces are properly equipped and ready to deploy.”

Then he nailed Swiftbolt with a fulminating look, “As for you, replace the incompetents in your department. Use my name and authority. You have ten days.”

Swiftbolt swallowed nervously and bowed low. “Yes, your Excellency. I will see to it.”

“See to it. I will send my nephew to act as the senior civil servant for your department.

“What are you all waiting for? Go!” ordered the Prince and President.

* * *

Postilius the Grey glared at his public viewer. He had been watching the News at Nine when they interviewed some twit named Reejal. From what he managed to understand, he was some kind of graduate student doing something for Garrilau Garrilas so as to qualify for some degree or other.

The problem was the Aliens. He had been making a mint of the gullible idiots he had conned with his tale of the end of the world and the faithful being collected by the alien spaceship. He had been sure the aliens wouldn’t be able to bridge the interstellar gap. He had been in full agreement with those scientists that had been interviewed a year or so ago when first this business of the aliens had surfaced.

And now he had to come up with a convincing story fast. He had about a year left to milk his followers. But he needed a good angle. And he had to figure out how to vanish, or if that proved impossible, how to dispose of them after. He didn’t want them coming after him for their cash once they had their noses rubbed in the fact that he had been hoaxing them.

Maybe he could use that fanatic Dikatan the Swift. The man manifestly wanted to be a martyr.