165.2 What's the scariest experience you've ever had?
Turlough had resisted the urge to laugh as the Doctor pottered on about "returning a hero" and such things. He wouldn't be returning a hero, he'd be returning a pawn. But if he wasn't there, they would use Malkon instead, and he didn't trust the Doctor's steering skills to get him back to Trion at the right time. So he would go back to Trion, fifteen years after he'd left, despite only having lived five and give up this false sense of freedom for a life juggling expectations and politics to spare Malkon the same.
Malkon had been brought up to think he was special--his father had too, despite, well, everything. Braddoc had not understood the Ket and their place in the Alsenbach hierachy, nor had he known what he was going into when he'd dragged Alsenbach, kicking and screaming, into the modern era and into the nascent World Government. The Regency had fallen into their favourite logical fallacy--that the Ket, professing no desire to rule, had no political leanings, and sent their father as Alsenbach's representative. The result had been a power struggle between Turlough's father and Braddoc that had come to the edge of Trion's first "world war". Civil War, they'd called it, still clinging to the fiction that they were one unified entity, despite clear indications that Trion was not ready for a World Government.
"I don't know what they're going to do about you." A voice said from above in Dejanis. Lomand dropped to the floor to sit beside him on the steel floor of the troop ship. "You never asked--"
"Can I trust you?" Turlough smiled grimly and deliberately did not salute. "Can I trust anyone, at this point? I was there for the trial, remember. Hard to miss it. I know my father was sent into exile, I know you're wearing a Desjani uniform--not WorldGov. Beyond that--my brother grew up knowing nothing of Trion. I will stand between him and the Desjani government. Or the Lios government. Or Tyani, or Haldor, or Qualis or anyone else who tries to punish him for my father's--or my sins."
To his surprise, Lomand winced. "Worst mistake of Braddoc's career,. The current government--the current Desjani government has spent the years since the dissolution of WorldGov distancing itself from that decision. The others too. WorldGov is best known now for lasting less than three years and putting a fourteen year old boy on trial for treason. No one wants to dig that up. Or rather, they'll be falling over themselves trying to make reparations. And if Alsenbach disowns you, you are welcome in Desjani."
Turlough couldn't help thinking that might be worse. If highly unlikely. "Alsenbach's laws may seem incomprehensible to an outsider." That was putting it mildly. "But they will not disown me." His ancestors had tried.
"If they do," Lombard replied, completely missing the nuances of his position. "Your reparations will involve a large enough sum that you could settle anywhere in the world."
You can run, but you can't hide, Turlough thought. He'd taken the step. He couldn't evade destiny or responsibility or whatever one chose to call it any longer. Lomand might not get it, but at least he'd ceased to refer to Turlough as Junior Ensign--that absurd rank from the equally absurd Desjani Military Academy, where they'd met so many years ago. As much as he loathed St. Brendan's, it had nothing on Petros Vin, where all the high ranking Desjani clans sent their children to be educated. He'd only spent a single term there before the hols when everything had blown up. "I have no desire to settle in Desjani or anywhere else. Once I am permitted, I will return to Alsenbach. Unlike my father, I had no desire to leave." And that was as much of a political statement as anything he'd said thus far--his father had made a name for himself on the world stage, but all Turlough wanted to do was go home.
"Your brother may not share your views." Lomand was reaching for something. Turlough wondered if he had orders from on high.
"My brother may do as he likes when he comes of age. Until then I shall survey the situation and make decisions for him based on my best judgment." Turlough was getting tired of this. Lomand might be his elder now--ten years lost to time travel--and ostensibly his commanding officer, but Turlough had been playing politics since he was ten. He could only hope he'd given Lomand enough to satisfy his superiors. Desjani military policy could be quite harsh, as he recalled.
It turned out not to matter, as an aide had arrived to inform Lomand they were on approach to Devasi Space Port, and with a nod to Turlough, he returned to his duties.
Turlough had no illusions about what he was returning to. A world of international politics, biopic offers and fifteen years of technological advances. And this was the good outcome. No monster had ever scared him as much as taking that first step on to Desjani soil, but it had to be done, and he could only trust that he was up to the task.
Vislor Turlough
874 Words
Malkon had been brought up to think he was special--his father had too, despite, well, everything. Braddoc had not understood the Ket and their place in the Alsenbach hierachy, nor had he known what he was going into when he'd dragged Alsenbach, kicking and screaming, into the modern era and into the nascent World Government. The Regency had fallen into their favourite logical fallacy--that the Ket, professing no desire to rule, had no political leanings, and sent their father as Alsenbach's representative. The result had been a power struggle between Turlough's father and Braddoc that had come to the edge of Trion's first "world war". Civil War, they'd called it, still clinging to the fiction that they were one unified entity, despite clear indications that Trion was not ready for a World Government.
"I don't know what they're going to do about you." A voice said from above in Dejanis. Lomand dropped to the floor to sit beside him on the steel floor of the troop ship. "You never asked--"
"Can I trust you?" Turlough smiled grimly and deliberately did not salute. "Can I trust anyone, at this point? I was there for the trial, remember. Hard to miss it. I know my father was sent into exile, I know you're wearing a Desjani uniform--not WorldGov. Beyond that--my brother grew up knowing nothing of Trion. I will stand between him and the Desjani government. Or the Lios government. Or Tyani, or Haldor, or Qualis or anyone else who tries to punish him for my father's--or my sins."
To his surprise, Lomand winced. "Worst mistake of Braddoc's career,. The current government--the current Desjani government has spent the years since the dissolution of WorldGov distancing itself from that decision. The others too. WorldGov is best known now for lasting less than three years and putting a fourteen year old boy on trial for treason. No one wants to dig that up. Or rather, they'll be falling over themselves trying to make reparations. And if Alsenbach disowns you, you are welcome in Desjani."
Turlough couldn't help thinking that might be worse. If highly unlikely. "Alsenbach's laws may seem incomprehensible to an outsider." That was putting it mildly. "But they will not disown me." His ancestors had tried.
"If they do," Lombard replied, completely missing the nuances of his position. "Your reparations will involve a large enough sum that you could settle anywhere in the world."
You can run, but you can't hide, Turlough thought. He'd taken the step. He couldn't evade destiny or responsibility or whatever one chose to call it any longer. Lomand might not get it, but at least he'd ceased to refer to Turlough as Junior Ensign--that absurd rank from the equally absurd Desjani Military Academy, where they'd met so many years ago. As much as he loathed St. Brendan's, it had nothing on Petros Vin, where all the high ranking Desjani clans sent their children to be educated. He'd only spent a single term there before the hols when everything had blown up. "I have no desire to settle in Desjani or anywhere else. Once I am permitted, I will return to Alsenbach. Unlike my father, I had no desire to leave." And that was as much of a political statement as anything he'd said thus far--his father had made a name for himself on the world stage, but all Turlough wanted to do was go home.
"Your brother may not share your views." Lomand was reaching for something. Turlough wondered if he had orders from on high.
"My brother may do as he likes when he comes of age. Until then I shall survey the situation and make decisions for him based on my best judgment." Turlough was getting tired of this. Lomand might be his elder now--ten years lost to time travel--and ostensibly his commanding officer, but Turlough had been playing politics since he was ten. He could only hope he'd given Lomand enough to satisfy his superiors. Desjani military policy could be quite harsh, as he recalled.
It turned out not to matter, as an aide had arrived to inform Lomand they were on approach to Devasi Space Port, and with a nod to Turlough, he returned to his duties.
Turlough had no illusions about what he was returning to. A world of international politics, biopic offers and fifteen years of technological advances. And this was the good outcome. No monster had ever scared him as much as taking that first step on to Desjani soil, but it had to be done, and he could only trust that he was up to the task.
Vislor Turlough
874 Words