Chapter 3 - M to the A to the S to the K
Pluckie knew as soon as her face collided with the solid, masculine chest, that she was in the presence of royalty. Prince Drak Revin was tall, dark and presumably very handsome. It was hard to tell with the combination helmet and mask he wore at all times.
His strong, kevlar encased arms wrapped around her waist and shoulders as he tried to steady the two of them, but it was no use. Pluckie's momentum knocked their bodies sideways. Drak was able to catch her and prevent her from tumbling to the floor, but he couldn't stop her from bumping into a marble pedestal.
They stood still, the Prince holding Pluckie almost perpendicular to the ground, and watched as the priceless vase on top the pedestal tipped and wobbled. For a moment it looked as though it had steadied itself and everything would be ok, but one last wobble sent the vase over the edge. It fell to the floor and smashed into a thousand worthless shards.
"Oh no!" she gasped as she stared up into the dark, mirrored visor that covered his eyes. "Is there any way to fix it?"
"No." There was an air of resignation in the Prince's mechanically filtered voice. "With all the advanced technology we have onboard, there's no way to fix a broken vase." He carefully placed her back on her feet and then shook the wrinkles out of his black, velvet cape.
"I'm so sorry," she said.
"What's done is done." He shrugged. "If it was anyone other than famous gladiator Plucky Smythe, I might fly into a murderous rage. Good thing I'm a big fan of yours, although I hardly recognize you without your gladiator helmet on."
"Yes. Helmets are good for hiding a person's true identity," Pluckie said, "About that, the true identity thing..." If she didn't come clean now, she might never get the chance.
"You haven't seen my personal secretary, Wheldon Beyette, have you?" the Prince asked. He didn't seem to care much that she'd been on the verge of a momentous confession. "If he lost my children again, I WILL fly into a murderous rage."
"No, no. He's with them," she quickly said. Wheldon was so pleasant and attractive; she didn't want him to get in any trouble. "I saw him earlier with the young prince and princess. They were..." She paused as she tried to think of something he might do with the children that wasn't against the law. They couldn't read or play or watch educational documentaries. "They were..." she said again, "...talking about ways to kill Ralfies."
"Ah." He nodded and casually rested his hand on the hilt of his laser-cutlass. "A wholesome pastime. I'll stop looking for him."
Pluckie felt like she should say something else, but she wasn't sure what. If she told him the truth about herself now, he'd fly into a murderous rage and she definitely didn't want to get murdered. But what could she talk about? She'd already lied about Wheldon, his children, and herself. The longer the two of them stood in the hallway, the more the lies between them took root and grew into an impenetrable barrier.
"So," Prince Drak said, finally breaking the awkward silence. "I'd better get going. Will I see you tonight in the formal dining room?"
"I don't think I've been invited."
He nodded. "Consider this an invitation."
Pluckie gazed up at the visor hiding the Prince's eyes. "Then I would be honored to accept." She tried not to imagine his eyes as soulful and intelligent. This was the man, afterall, whose tyrannical laws had condemned her family to misery. But she couldn't help herself. His impeccable posture and broad shoulders were the very image of majestic.
"I look forward to seeing you then," Drak said. He ended his sentence with a stiff, shallow bow and then quickly strode down the hallway.
Pluckie had never been asked to dine with royalty before. She wasn't sure she had anything to wear. Actually, she knew she didn't have anything to wear. Expecting to be issued an Oligarchia servant's uniform when she was hired, she'd packed underwear and a few personal items, that was it. The only clothes she had with her were the green t-shirt and faded blue jeans she was wearing.
With a growing sense of unease, she raced back to her room to see what she could put together.
It was a surprise to find the door of her cabin slightly ajar. Pluckie could have sworn she closed it behind her, except she'd been in such a hurry, maybe she hadn't. She took a step into her room only to stop short when she saw her suitcase open on the bed and her underwear unceremoniously dumped out. That's when she realized she wasn't alone.
"We know the truth about you," a young, snobby voice said.
Pluckie spun around to see two preteens sitting on the dresser. The girl swung her feet back and forth, carelessly kicking the furniture's veneer. The boy just stared at her, his upper lip curved in a disdainful sneer.
Nova and Bubby, the Revin twins, were as famous as their father and would eventually take his place on the Galactic Council of Ruling Families. They might not yet wield power, but someday they would. Pluckie needed to stay on their good side.
"We know you're not a gladiator," Bubby said. He squinted his eyes and pursed his lips, giving his face a pinched look.
Pluckie nervously tugged on the bottom of her shirt. "Of course I'm a gladiator. That's why I'm on this ship, so I can gladiate."
"We went through your bag." Nova hopped off the dresser and circled around the bed. Her multitude of dark braids swished behind her as she walked. "There's no armor or weapons or body oil. There's nothing a gladiator would pack."
"That hardly means anything." Plucky's voice was steady and calm, but inside she was scared.
"We didn't find anything a gladiator would pack," Bubby said, "but we did find these." With a dramatic flare, he scooched over on the dresser to reveal a small stack of hardcover books. He grabbed the top one off the pile and thrust it toward Pluckie.
She already knew what was written on the cover. It had been a mistake bringing books with her, but reading was fundamental. Every night, before she fell asleep, it was her habit to read from that particular book for inspiration.
"Introduction to Algebra," Bubby said. "Teachers' Edition."
"That could mean anything." Pluckie unconsciously backed away from him.
"It means one thing," Nova snapped. "You're a teacher."
The girl practically signed Pluckie's death warrant with those words. Prince Drak was itching for a public execution and there were countless ways he could have her killed. Recently his favorite mode of execution was death by Neptunian Burrowing Worm. He liked to watch the dissidents scream as they were devoured from the inside out.
Pluckie swallowed and tried to keep her growing panic at bay. "Are you going to tell your father?"
"We're not sure," Bubby said.
Nova gave her fingernails a nonchalant glance. "It depends on what you do next."
"What I do?" Pluckie didn't see how the situation could get any worse, but it sure felt like it was headed in that direction.
"We're so very ignorant and bored," Nova explained.
"Turning you over to our dad would give us something to do for a little while," her brother added, "but then we'd just go back to being ignorant and bored."
"You want me to entertain you?"
"We want you to educate us," Bubby said.
Pluckie couldn't believe her ears. The heirs to the solar system were blackmailing her into committing treason.
Nova strolled to the nearest porthole and looked out at the distant stars. "My dream is to one day usurp the other ruling families and become Supreme Leader." There was a wistful note in her voice. "I can't do that if I can't do long division."
Bubby jumped down from the dresser. "And I want to be a fashion designer. I need to correctly spell the names of fabrics and colors. Otherwise my vision of a silver, satin ballgown could turn into an orange, rubbery mess."
"If I teach you these things, you'll keep my secret?" Pluckie asked.
The twins nodded.
"And we'll train you for the Saturnalia Spectacular," Nova said.
"Oh that's right. I have to battle Faleria Vestina." Pluckie sat down on the edge of the bed. There was so much she had to do. If only she'd been hired as a servant, she wouldn't be nearly as busy as she was now. "First things first," she sighed. "I'm having dinner with you and your father tonight and this"--she gestured to the clothes on her body--"is the only thing I have to wear."
Bubby's face brightened as his mouth stretched into a smile. "Leave that to me."
Three hours later, Pluckie stood outside the Oligarchia's formal dining room. She took a moment to smooth a wrinkle out of her green t-shirt, brush lint off her faded blue jeans, and straighten the decorative, silk scarf tied around her neck. Then she took a deep breath, pulled open the door and walked in.
She found herself standing at the end of a twelve foot long table in perhaps the fanciest dining room she had ever seen. Loralee, Yan, Gasha, Diego and Cookbot stood at attention against the solid gold walls, which had been molded and painted to look like dark wood paneling. A crystal chandelier sent rainbow reflections up and down the white, linen tablecloth. The countless gold utensils of various shapes and sizes glowed in the candlelight. There were six place settings, five toward the head of the table and one by itself at the foot.
Four of the seats were already taken. Prince Drak, as was expected, sat at the head. Nova was seated to his right and Bubby to his left. Pluckie was vexed to see Faleria Vestina had also been invited. She occupied the seat next to Bubby. But maybe Pluckie could use this opportunity to get to know her opponent. If they became friends, perhaps they could find a way not to kill each other.
She was about to walk down the long length of the table and take the empty seat next to Nova when Yan pulled out the chair at the foot of the table and said, "Here you go, Plucky."
"Thanks." It felt wrong to take a seat of honor, especially one so removed from the rest of the diners, but there wasn't much she could do about it now.
"So, you're the famous Plucky Smith?" Faleria Vestina's high, nasal voice did not match her large, muscular physique. Pluckie never would have thought such an athletic person would be a noisy mouth breather.
"Actually, it's pronounced Smythe." Prince Drak sloshed his blood red wine around in his goblet. "You look nice tonight." It was hard to know who he was talking to since his mask hid the direction his eyes were pointed. "That's a nice scarf."
"Oh me?" Pluckie was the only one wearing a scarf, so the Prince had to be talking to her. "Thank you. A friend lent it to me." She shot Bubby a quick wink.
The compliment wasn't aimed at him, but it hardly mattered. The boy looked so proud to have his father's approval.
"Your Highness." Gasha curtsied. "Will Wheldon be joining you this evening?"
"No. He's busy doing personal secretary stuff." Drak waved his hand in a vague dismissing gesture. "You can clear his place setting and serve dinner."
Gasha signaled to Loralee who quickly stepped forward and scooped up the unneeded utensils.
"Did you see the news from Earth?" Nova asked. "There was a Ralfie attack not long before we launched."
Diego, in his role as Sommelier, silently and unobtrusively poured blood red wine into Pluckie's goblet. His face had the classic blank expression of a top notch wine steward, but when he was sure no one else was looking, he shot her a reassuring smile.
"I walked past just after it happened." Pluckie paused to take a dainty sip from her glass. "It was gruesome."
"The R.A.L.F are foolish," Drak said. He leaned back in his chair while Cookbot rolled over to him, extended her serving tube above his plate and administered the soup course. "The more they fight us the more they suffer."
"I don't see why we can't make peace with them," Bubby said. "Why can't we share power and form a representational democracy?"
"Because that's not what ruling families do," Drak growled. "Now stop yammering and EAT your soup."
Whatever pride Bubby may have felt minutes earlier was decimated by his father's scolding. The entire table fell silent, the only sound was the slurping of soup.
It had been years since Pluckie had eaten food with any sort of flavor to it. This soup had a cream base spiced with coriander, cilantro and Chinese parsley. The Mercurial Sludge Moths floating on the top added a crunchy zest she found absolutely delightful.
On and on the diners slurped until Faleria Vestina broke the silence. "I look forward to our bout at the Saturnalia Spectacular, Plucky Smythe," she said. "Obviously, I hope I am the one to wear the Saturnalia Queen crown and continue the long and honored tradition."
"It is a long tradition." Pluckie put her spoon down and smiled to herself. "I remember, as a kid, sitting with my family around the virtual television to watch the Spectacular." The flood of happy memories warmed her heart. "Of course back then it was called the Christmas Spectacular and the victorious gladiator was crowned the Christmas Queen."
The room had seemed quiet before when they'd all been awkwardly eating their soup, but that was nothing to the deadly silence that greeted Pluckie now. She glanced around the table to see expressions of horrified shock on Nova, Bubby and Faleria Vestina's faces. Standing against the wall, Gasha, Yan, Diego and Loralee looked as though they were watching a rocket crash land. Cookbot, who didn't have movable facial features, flashed her indicator lights in an agitated rhythm.
Drak scowled at Pluckie behind his mask and gripped his napkin in his hand. "Christmas is forbidden." His voice was so low and menacing, it rumbled like an angry beast from the mythical rainforests of old. "We celebrate Saturnalia here. End of story!"
"I, I, I'm sorry," Pluckie stammered. The intensity of the Prince's rage was terrifying. Her hands trembled with fear.
"Father," Nova said with a loud and falsely cheerful voice, "Are we docking at Mars tomorrow? Are we picking up any new passengers?"
"Yes." Drak took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Two guests will be joining us. There's the popular music singer, Xhia."
If she hadn't been so scared at that moment, Pluckie would have clapped her hands with excitement. Xhia was her favorite popular music singer.
"But the second guest is of more interest to Plucky and Faleria Vestina," Drak continued, "Mr. Maverock."
"Mr. Maverock, the famous gladiator trainer?" Faleria Vestina asked.
"The very same," Drak said. "Plucky, I believe you trained with him when you were first starting out, did you not?"
"Umm... yes." Pluckie grabbed her glass of blood red wine and took a gulp. "But I've changed so much since then. He probably won't even recognize me."
"How could he forget his star pupil?" Drak asked.
"You'd be surprised." Suddenly, Pluckie had no appetite. As much as she wanted to finish her soup, she couldn't. Her stomach roiled with stress and apprehension. If she stayed here a minute longer, she was sure the Prince and Faleria Vestina would figure her out. "Please excuse me." She stood up. "I should get going... to..." She didn't know what to say.
"To bed?" Nova offered.
"Yes," Pluckie said. "To bed. I have to go to..." Her mind was blank.
"Sleep," Bubby said for her.
"Right," she agreed. "I have to go to sleep so I can..."
"So you can get up early tomorrow and start your training," Nova said, "because you're a gladiator and that's what gladiators do. You don't need to give us any further explanation. You can just leave."
"Thanks." And with that, Pluckie left the room as fast as she could, which was a little too fast. She inadvertently knocked into the marble pedestal by the door. The last thing she heard as she raced down the hall toward her bedroom was the sound of a Ming vase shattering on the floor.
END CHAPTER THREE
Bubby gave Pluckie a decorative scarf to dress up her outfit. I have a pretty blue and green velvet scarf I wear when I feel like I need to be a little dressy. I also have a black velvet beret I like to wear when I want to feel artsy. What are your go to accessories to dress up an outfit?