Mackapan Part 1

A Military SciFI Drama.

Mackapan Part 1

Representative Lieutenant Commander Jim Mackapan stared at his reflection in the gaudy overlarge mirror that hung on the wall beside him. His tightly cropped black hair was swept back and gelled in a practical officer like shape that ordinarily gave him a rakish look. Today though, his looks were marred by a gaudy maroon sash that was slung across his chest turning his striking grey/orange military dress uniform into something from Salvador Dali’s worst nightmare. His face too was twisted up with a marring grimace of distaste though it relaxed into an imitation of serenity as his fingers caressed the bulky handle of the atom blaster at his waist.

He toyed with the slip of paper in his other hand wondering if it was safe to look at it yet. The room was probably scanned and wired, but he had to take the chance. Nonchalantly Mackapan lifted his left hand and brushed back a loose spike of hair as if he were adjusting it in the mirror. He glanced at the slip as it went by. Chess, Brother, Health. The note was short and cryptic but the information it held brought a smile back to his face.

Lieutenant Mackapan stifled a yawn, with his right hand, and studied the room around him as he stood stiff with impatience. The Inner Royal Chamber was relatively small and didn’t really fit its title, perhaps to make up for this fact it was overly rich with all kinds of decorative furniture encrusted in golden finishings and jewels. A large and ornate desk was by far the largest feature of the room and accordingly was the most adorned. The heavy marble that it was made from was shaped into scenes of a gigantic battle that spread across its sides in all directions and certain of the pictured warriors were themselves lacquered in what appeared to be gold leaf while others sported jewels and lesser metals. Jim found himself caught by the craftsmanship of the massive thing and had to mentally restrain himself from going on all fours to see if the scenes of strife and destruction continued underneath the great slab.

Presumably the wooden chair that sat in front of the desk was for his exclusive use. Jim had not missed the calculated insult that the chair represented. Compared to the gigantic iron wood throne that loomed over the other side of the desk his chair was a foot stool. This had not slipped the Lieutenant’s careful study and after being ushered into the room by a servant he had decided to stand.

The orders Jim had received a month earlier with the signature of the highest members of the Admiralty had sent him into elations of joy, until he had gotten the full import of the official thick service paper. He and his vessel the Light Skiff Valkyrie were ordered to the planet Osgove to function as the United Navy’s representative in the coming Coronation of the young Prince Silchar. The orders had also held the information that for the past sixteen years the High Regent, who also happened to be the religious leader of the planet, had been the governing power and that it would be very much in the interest of the United Navy to ensure that the ceremony went smoothly assuring that the High Regent’s reign would be at an end. Though it hadn’t been said specifically anywhere in the letter it gave off the smell, only to those who knew the United Navy, of a suggestion of a possible captaincy if the mission went as planned.

The currier who had hand delivered the letter to the outpost the Valkyrie had been stationed at had also passed on a private message from one of Mackapan’s Admiral acquaintances to the same effect. So Lieutenant Commander Jim Mackapan stood in the flashing golden room wearing his ugly maroon sash for over an hour before the door behind the great desk opened to emit a short man swathed in simple robes. Jim gritted his teeth in frustration; this was not the man he had been waiting for.

 It had taken him a week just to make his way through the bureaucratic levels of the planetary government and another four days for him to set up his appointment with the would be king: Prince Silchar. That was not the man who sat smugly in the over large chair before him. With a face stiff with anger Jim made a small bow just short of impolite to the man before him. In return the man inclined his head as if to a servant who had done him a minor service.

“Representative Lieutenant Commander Mackapan it is so… gratifying to finally make your acquaintance. It appears that you have been very busy recently, but at the moment the prince is unfortunately indisposed and you will have to make do with my attentions.”

                The man had seemed rather cool at first, but as he spoke it turned into a slithery confidence that reminded Mackapan more of a weasel than a snake. Sometime between gratifying and the firm way the man pronounced authority the revelation of the man’s identity came to the Lieutenant Commander. He also was alert to the demeaning stress that the man had put on his rank.

“High Regent Lomara, I presume? I have been meaning to contact your offices since I arrived, but originally a slight altercation in the shuttle port kept me busy for a time and then my first priority was to speak with the King.”

                A grimace crossed the High Regent’s powdered face at the word King, but flashed away so fast that if he had not been looking for it Mackapan might have dismissed it as imagination.

Before the Lieutenant Commander had been on the planet more than a minute a group of armed men had stormed his wing of the shuttle port and had begun firing at anything that even vaguely resembled a United Navy officer. Luck had been on Mackapan’s side because just as the thuglys came crashing in, the rest of his team had been arriving at customs and still were lethally armed. The firefight had been a short one and the confrontation unfairly balanced. The adept and polished crew of the Valkyrie had quickly disposed of the offending Osgovians. The security patrollers of Shuttle Port Lighthouse A-23 had been at a loss as to how the group of armed men had made it into the building past so many security procedures.

 I know how, thought Mackapan at the time, You fellows let them in the back door. He had not voiced his assumption at the time, but no doubt his crew had like thought. Ever since the incident he had kept his neck craned over his shoulder regarding every Osgovian as a potential agent of the High Regent. Mackapan had no doubt that the Regent had ordered the attack and so with wary caution he returned his focus to the little man behind the desk.

“Well Representative, technically the Prince has not been crowned yet and should still be considered the royal Heir, not the Royal Master of Osgove.” The High Regent said patronizingly adjusting his official headband that was painted with the colors of the royal house.

“Fortunately that is not the case for long. By tomorrow morning the Prince will be a King by right of blood and once officially crowned he will have more power than anyone on this planet. High Regent, I have done my homework.” The High Regent’s smarmy smile had turned icy and accordingly froze on his face. Contrary to this strange effect, his eyes blazed.

“So it appears. But it is not that simple, you see our monarchy is not the steadiest of galactic governments and it is quite possible on a world such as Osgove that something could happen to someone as young and inexperienced as the Prince between one day and the next. For instance he could fall while inspecting a military instillation, or perhaps choke on a chicken bone while at table, or even, dare I say it, he may find the prospect of ruling an entire planet too much to handle and end his princely life quietly in his chambers.” The Regent purred out the last few words.

All in all Mackapan decided that the High Regent wasn’t a man of finesse, but as he was in control of both the government and the planetary religion he didn’t really have to be. Though the implied threat had come earlier in the conversation than he had been anticipating, and more bluntly, Mackapan was still ready with his reply.

Mackapan began with a broad and deliberately oblivious smile. “I am aware of such possibilities High Regent and have taken precautions to prevent such eventualities. And as I understand the Prince is playing chess at the moment with his younger brother and in a state of perfect health.”

Rather than shouting in outrage or looking worried or any of the other possibilities Mackapan had expected the ice on the High Regent’s face melted away and the smarmy confident smile assumed its accustomed place.

“Oh, as to that information, I assure you it is stale. Shortly before this meeting I became familiar with a certain Ace Benson a galactic citizen who the palace guards found switching clothes in a hall closet. It seems the young man had been disguising himself in the livery of the Royal house and going about the living quarters. Not only has he committed a high felony but alarmingly the whole time he was incognito he was lethally armed and under a subsection of the resistance clause he has committed attempted treason. Tomorrow he shall be hung before the ceremonies officially begin.”

So, they had caught Ben. Damn. He had been the only agent Mackapan had been able to slip close enough to monitor and protect the prince in an emergency and now he had allowed himself to become a liability. No, that was unjust, Ben Aceson, he liked to invert his name when playing spy, was his second officer and would die before betraying his crew and Commander. There were ways of making a man talk though. Decisively the Lieutenant Commander decided not to react. He just had to make it through this interview and then he could figure out how to get Ben out and then he could handle the next crisis and no doubt the one that would crop up after that until he was off this benighted planet and heading towards civilization and a captaincy.

“It is good to hear that the Prince’s staff is so capable. I would hate to think that they were not well trained enough to perform their soul duty of protecting the Prince Heir.”

With a snarl that shattered his smarmy confidence the High Regent leaped from his seat and furiously began gesticulation as he seethed at Mackapan. “Your weak attempt at a cover up is laughable. We know that this man is a spy in your employ and that he has been feeding you information for the past week about the doings and whereabouts of the Prince. Further you have used this information to try and topple my position as the High Regent and I suspect the Glowing Priest of Osgove!” He practically foamed at the mouth. In something closer to a normal voice he spat out “The throne is mine you cannot have it!” as he pressed a button on his desk.  His words faded as the door behind Mackapan slid open with a viper like hiss to reveal three large guards all bearing luminescent deadly looking weapons.

Instantly Jim Mackapan launched into action becoming no longer the young representative of the United Navy, but Jimmy Mack a young man hardened by both the rough life of a soldier and a spacer combined. His atom blaster was out of its holster and in his hand as he rolled to his left behind a thick well bound chest. He managed to drop the first one with a lucky hit by firing aimlessly over the chest. He could hear the High Regent screaming things like “Treason! Hersey! Grab him or you are doomed to eternal hellfire!” while crouching safely behind his thick marble desk.

With a quick crossing of fingers Mackapan fainted out to the left drawing the remaining guards’ fire and then dove across the room to land behind the great desk and beside the High Regent whose threats of eternal damnation turned into curses unfit for a priest. With a smile or perhaps it was a grimace, he wasn’t quite sure himself, Mackapan reached under the desk and drew out the struggling little man who was fighting like any respectable cornered weasel. To his dismay and shock the last thing Representative Lieutenant Commander Mackapan saw was the tiny barrel of the gun High Regent Lomara drew from his robes and aimed at his head.

Author's Note

This is an older work of mine, but I still think it makes for a light read. I was aiming for Foundationesque classic scifi, and I would love to know if that is the feeling you get. Also I am very eager for all layers and types of literary criticism. Thank you for reading and reviewing!