Sondranos: The Narrative of Leon Bishop (28 page)

"Ladies and gentlemen," a
plump, short woman wearing a velvet cravat interrupts the thrum of
the crowd – Miss Russell, attaché to the absent Belovore
ambassador. She looks to the edge of the dais - through Perry - and
starts again, slower, but with a sense of purpose behind her words.
Russell left him after she became obsessed with convincing the
Belovores. She never agreed with his methods, but she agreed with
the intent behind it. She extended her arms in a practiced but
welcoming gesture, "Ambassador Velric would like to say a few words
now that, as he says, the morning is in full bloom."

The crowd bursts into applause;
it’s nothing like the polite welcome Perry had gotten when he'd
arrived earlier. This kind is loud, obnoxious thundering. What he'd
assumed would be a gentle event strikes at him like a knife
twisting in his throat, severing his ability to speak. He pulls
another drink off a passing waiter's tray, hoping this drink would
dull his hearing. "I'm sorry, sir," the waiter grabs his tray and
turns to face Perry, "That glass has already been used. I would be
happy to bring you a fresh glass--or perhaps you would like to wait
until breakfast has been served?"

"You mean it hasn't already?"
Perry whispers, and gulps it down. He stares at the waiter,
ignoring the applause as it dies down, and hands the empty glass
back. Perry doesn't know whose idea it was to serve champagne in
the morning - even though such a ceremony calls for it - but the
Admiral does know that he is starting to feel its benefits.

Everything is melting away,
replaced with the tender thought that he really can fix himself;
admitting his faults is hard, but it no longer seems impossible, as
he'd once thought.

The double wide doors next to
Perry open, revealing the ancient grey colour scheme of the
hallway, directly contrasting the spring coloured foyer. In the
arch, Ambassador Velric, leader of the Belovores and the one who'd
stayed behind, stops long enough to bow to the crowd.

He is a tall, gaunt creature. A
bronze sheen evens out the ridges around his mouth, giving his flat
face a gilded look; like all Belovores above maturity, his skin has
hardened into a protective shell, sectioning off his limbs and
joints like a knight’s armour.

The Belovore hulks through the
doorway; the ghost of a smile haunts his lips. He shuffles past the
empty banquet tables and towards the stage. Seizing the
opportunity, Perry steps into the path of the Belovore and holds up
his hand. The Belovore stops in front of him and eyes him with a
curious glance through bloodshot eyes. "I just want to say,
Velric," Perry makes sure his voice is loud and clear, "I am proud
to have been the first human your people began to trust. It was a
great honour being such a distinct figure in your history."

Nobody applauds; Perry looks
around, expectant: he'd thought they would appreciate the gesture.
This is him now; this is a leader prepared to admit his
mistakes.

Annika stars at him through the
sea of faces, the only pair of eyes that can frown back at him and
burn a judgmental hole through his chest.

"Thank you Langston Perry," the
Belovore speaks. "I am glad for your honour."

A collective sigh and general
delight sweeps over the crowd; it’s a response to Velric, but not
him. As the Belovore steps past him, Perry feels the moment
slipping away. He wants to say something else, but can't find the
words. Instead, he looks around for another glass of Blanc de
Noirs. When he can't find one nearby, he scans the crowd, worried
they can read his gaze, and returns casually to the pillar next to
the stage. Perry knows it isn't over. He’ll have another shot. But
first, he wants another drink.

"Anger, love, frustration,
resentment," Velric begins after stepping up onto the dais. The
entirety of the crowd, except for Perry, watches eagerly. "None of
these can change. They are the foundation of our greatest problems.
I, as Belovore; you, as human: both stagnant. That can no longer be
a wall we conceal ourselves behind. We have taken the first steps
to the next ontogenesis."

Perry takes in a deep breath
and falls back against the pillar. He can't do it. His mind swirls
in time with his gut. He feels like he could slip out without
anyone noticing, but is too tired to make the first move.

"The Belovores, as a race, were
dying because there was no change. We spent civilizations
attempting to secure our evolution, trying to reach for a
conversion that did not come. We needed a step forward, something
bigger than our own existence. We needed allies on the path. We
needed the human race to show us that the stars were our
salvation." Perry stifles a nervous laugh when he hears the
Belovore utter that last word -- it was all the justification
they'd needed, all Perry had to invoke to convince the Belovores to
flee the planet in search of some cosmic development. "There is a
single being to show gratitude for this. And, as such, today, I
wish to give credit to this being."

Perry stiffens up, the slow
haze that’s been ebbing itself over his brain melts away in an
instant. He had been responsible for the change to which Velric
referred. He flattens down the front of his button down, navy blue
uniform, straightens the medals pinned to the left breast, and pops
his neck to the side.

"Annika Granger," Velric calls
out, "please join my side. I wish to thank you in the way the
Belovores know most intimately."

Another burst of applause and
cries of excitement startle Perry; his head knocks into the pillar
when the sound cracks against his ears. His heart drops into the
furthest, darkest chasm in his chest; a lump of heavy guilt throbs
just below his throat. He watches as Annika strides through the
huddled mass of people, each one stepping out of her way, eying her
with a grandeur that makes Perry want to punch something. He knows
that the intimate gratitude Velric mentioned is nothing more than a
genuflection, but it still bothers him. It should be his.

Annika's heels click against
the marble platform as Velric helps her stand beside him. Perry
responds by attempting to turn around and make a bee-line for the
door. However, as he turns, he realizes that he's set his own trap.
The crowd has huddled up behind him, close enough so that he can't
leave without causing a commotion. Attempting to shuffle around the
pillar provides no exit either, as it straddles the same wall that
has been used to line up the banquet tables. He could either climb
over the tables or draw direct attention to himself by attempting
to push through the crowd. Right now, he feels too old to do the
first, and too hazy to commit to the second.

"Thank you, Ambassador Velric,"
Annika says. Perry's head pounds at the sound of her voice. "I am
extremely proud to be the one chosen for this rite. But I can't
steal that honour from you."

"Annika," Velric intones, "Your
leader gave us the technology. But because of your integrity, we
attained the dignity and the knowledge to survive. I would not have
asked had I not already realized the implications. Please, perform
the rites."

"I only did what certain people
couldn't to do," Annika smiles, gracious. She looks at the Admiral.
"We all set our own traps. I wasn't going to let the potential
death of your species weigh on my conscious."

"Stop it!" Perry can't take
anymore; guilt is eating at the cores of his eyes. "Just stop it.
None of this would have happened had I not spearheaded the entire
campaign!" He feels his body taking a lurch forward before his mind
tells it to do anything; he watches from the corner of his mind as
he climbs up on the stage and stumbles towards Annika.

"Admiral," Russell, adjusting
her velvet cravat with a nervous hand, calls to him from the
opposite end of the stage. Perry has forgotten the Belovore's
attaché was there. "I'm going to have to ask you to come down."

"Let me speak," Perry yells. He
looks out at the sea of faces. Everyone gives him their undivided
attention: as it should be, but his heart aches.

"Sir, the ceremony," Russell
interrupts. A trio of blue uniformed guards join her at the edge of
the stage; their staunch faces rebound between Perry and Velric
with indecision. Perry knows they won't move against a superior
officer. Good, he thinks, give me my chance.

"I suggest you step down,
Langston Perry," Velric says, stepping into Perry's line of
sight.

He stares down the Belovore.
"No," he says, resolute, "I've stood to the side long enough. I let
Annika be your hero because this place needed one; but it ends
here. She isn't a hero; she's just another one of my people, one of
the tools I planted in front of you to get you to leave
Sondranos."

Perry barely feels the words
leaving his mouth. They’re like a sickness pouring out from his
lungs, riding the stench of alcohol.

"We know who you are," Velric
says. "And Annika Granger is more a hero than you will ever be. You
tried to pass fiction off as truth, unwilling to admit the truth
within the fiction."

Perry's mind races, grabbing at
every, and any, memory that surfaces. "She was my voice, and you
listened."

"Annika told us you would say
something like this eventually. She said you suffer." Velric says.
"Rest assured that we hold no ill will against your actions. Your
natural intention to fool us entirely failed."

"I'm sure you have no idea what
I've suffered from," Perry rasps. His throat is parched, he wants
another drink, but instead savours the words that have begun to
feel like whiskey scouring the back of his throat. His inhibitions
have drowned with the last glass; his heart and cloudy mind race in
their stead.

Annika stands behind Velric,
watching Perry with a careful glare. Another one of her thin looks
adorns the corner of her cherry-red lips, mocking him. Perry steps
towards Annika, not knowing what he’s going to do. He hears Russell
call out to him again, and orders the guards to intervene.

"Stand down," Perry calls to
the guards, "I'm not done here."

As he tries to step around
Velric, the Belovore refuses to move. He steps to the other side,
almost tripping over the distance of his stride. Velric mirrors
him.

"Weren't you listening?" Perry
yells. He feels something moist stinging at his eyes. Nothing can
penetrate the creature's thick skull. Without feeling it, Perry
lifts his fist and strikes the Belovore in the chest. He pulls his
hand back with the sound of his popping knuckles, his throbbing
fists. A gasp issues from the part of the crowd closest to him. The
Belovore does nothing.

"Lieutenant Benn," Perry shouts
an order to the largest of the guards, "Please escort Ambassador
Velric out of my way."

"Admiral Perry," responds Benn
as he climbs onto the stage, walks around Velric, and approaches
the Admiral's side. "I am afraid I have to ask you to stand down,
under the authority of the new Sondranos militia." The sound of a
weapon being charged rises in the air, the tension as thick as a
cloud of mist.

"What do you think you're
doing, lieutenant?" Perry faces Benn.

"You are currently
incapacitated," he says. "We have to assume that you are not acting
in the best interest of Sondranos."

"The best interest of Sondranos
was getting rid of the Belovores in the first place!" Perry yells.
That’s why so few of you argued with me!”

His heart freezes in his chest;
he can recall saying that same exact phrase to so many others -
including Annika - after the program had begun. Something about
Benn's uniform causes him to see red blistering the corners of his
sight. Perry rips open the cover of his own jacket, scattering his
medals to the floor – it’s easy to forget they had been decorating
his chest like leaves on a dying tree.

"Why do you think I promised
them space flight? Why do you think I sent Annika to convince the
Belovores that the only chance they had at survival rested in
leaving? I did it, I destroyed them!"

That hits him harder than he
expects. The words linger on his tongue, bitter and distinct. He
feels disappointment welling up inside his throat, replacing the
hatred. His eyes, his throat, his lungs hurt; tears ache from his
periphery.

"I've only ever had the best
interest of Sondranos at heart," Perry slumps. He looks past
Velric's massive shoulders, at Annika. "That's all. I used to think
that was enough."

The lieutenant steps towards
him and releases his hand off the holstered weapon. Benn regards
him with sympathetic eyes; his care is deep and dark. Perry
considers asking for another drink, just to calm his nerves. "It'll
be okay. Let's go out to the terrace and get you some fresh
air."

Perry no longer wants to see
anyone in the room, so he turns away, gathering what shreds of
composure he can muster. He'd let his emotions take over; he'd gone
too far. Sometimes men have to let go before they can do what’s
right for their home.

"I apologize on behalf of
Admiral Perry," Annika's voice rebounds throughout the room behind
him.

Perry stops. The sound of her
voice gives rise to something harsh inside him, something wicked.
All the hatred he feels looking in the mirror reflects back in
Annika's eyes, striking at him deeper than ever before. She is the
embodiment of the parts he hates most about himself.

Perry rams his elbow into the
Lieutenant and grabs the weapon in Benn's holster. He pushes past
people while fingering a switch on the butt of the gun to full
power, safety off. He treads heavily on the marble, placing Annika
within the sights of the barrel. Perry squints at the little red
dot fixated on the girl's chest, right above her heart. Perry pulls
the trigger; a deafening explosion rocks his ears, replacing the
cries of the crowd with a shrill, crisp whine.