The Andromeda's Captain

  Editor: Jamie Rich

  Proofreader: Anna Heiar

  The Andromeda's Captain

  Copyright © 2022 Becca Fox

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please write to the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published by BHC Press

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2021944678

  ISBN: 978-1-64397-283-1 (Hardcover)

  ISBN: 978-1-64397-284-8 (Softcover)

  ISBN: 978-1-64397-285-5 (Ebook)

  For information, write:

  BHC Press

  885 Penniman #5505

  Plymouth, MI 48170

  Visit the publisher:

  www.bhcpress.com

  For my husband,

  who taught me that even

  the smallest details are important.

  THE KING and queen of Doeline stood side by side, staring at the multiple screens lining the wall of their conference room. Some broadcasted the protests going on all around the planet of Jurthaan IV. Folinar and humans alike stood before the vibromite caves, holding solitary signs and moving holograms, condemning Queen Miyako and King Yoshiro for surrendering a quarter of these “sacred” caves to appease the Mireling “tyrants.” Some gave speeches about the savagery of the Mirelings. They believed that marrying Princess Kylee to Prince Maju was a death sentence and a disgrace.

  On many other screens, the disastrous end to the royal wedding was being shown. The same clips played over and over again: the exploding hovercars, the frantic guests scurrying around the cathedral like trapped rats, the bride being roughly pushed away from her father by the terrified bridesmaids, the Mireling prince being corralled into a safe corner by his groomsmen bodyguards, and then a flash of black curls.

  Queen Miyako curled her lip as one of the cameras zoomed in on the lone figure fighting the crowds and making steady progress toward the princess.

  The lowly guard, who had managed to single-handedly take out the security detail posted around the cathedral, met Kylee by the archway of hydrangeas and ivy. He kissed her before leading her toward one of the rear exits. The walls of the cathedral had been programmed to mirror the scenery outside. How he’d managed to find the exit, reporters could only speculate. The camera showed the guard being shot in the back by a stun blast. It did little to slow him. Once outside, the angle switched to an exterior patrol camera. The princess held the guard’s hand while they raced down the plateau and into the shelter of the jungle vegetation. The angle switched yet again, to another patrol camera. A cargo cruiser rose out of the greenery and soared into the sky.

  The replay now over, most of the screens cut to reporters and talk show hosts, all of whom wanted to know the same thing: did this mean war for Jurthaan IV and Palnach?

  It had happened mere hours ago. How was it that the entire planet was talking about it already?

  “Screens off,” Queen Miyako snapped.

  The screens turned black.

  She leaned her palms against the table sitting before her. Glaring down at her reflection in the glossy tabletop, the queen attempted to calm her racing thoughts and raging temper.

  Taren Yorick Platinum.

  It was perhaps the most absurd name she’d ever heard. It wasn’t even a family name; it was an ode to a long-dead poet and playwright from Earth. This man—no, this boy—was the only offspring of Colonel Horatio Platinum, a man known for his impeccable moral character, bravery, selflessness, and decency. It was only because of his father’s coaching that the boy had graduated from the Guard Institute at such a young age, and it was only his father’s legacy that had secured him the job as one of Princess Kylee’s personal bodyguards.

  The boy wasn’t important or intelligent or even very handsome. Yet he had somehow managed to steal the princess’s heart and turn her against her own parents.

  “We should call a meeting with the Mireling king and queen, my dear,” King Yoshiro said softly.

  “And a press conference—yes, I know.” The queen straightened up. Running her hands over the bodice of her dress, she imagined she was flattening out the creases in her mask. The mask of the wise, patient, all-knowing, collected Queen of Doeline. Taking a deep, calming breath, she turned to address her husband. “Call the scribe and my publicist, please.”

  He bowed and retreated. The door shut with a quiet snap.

  Queen Miyako began to pace the conference room.

  Once captured, the Platinum boy would be publicly executed. He had to be made an example of, otherwise those pesky little protesters might get it into their heads that they could act against the crown and get away with it. The Mirelings would need to be appeased. As much as the queen yearned to try the boy in her own court for all of Doeline to see, she knew Prince Maju would want the trial to be held on Palnach. That was fair; the prince’s honor was at stake after all. They took that sort of thing seriously on his planet. The trial would be broadcast live to the biggest countries of Jurthaan IV; perhaps it could be made into a mandatory transmission.

  The queen nodded to herself. That took care of the guard, but what about the princess?

  As smart as Kylee was about matters of government and academics, it was obvious she was still naïve and immature. To put her planet in peril because of some boy was inexcusable. To go against her mother’s wishes was downright criminal. But she couldn’t be put to death. After Kylee, the next successor to the throne was one of the queen’s nephews. Miyako simply would not be able to live if she was forced to give up the palace to her sister. She shuddered just to think of it.

  No, Kylee’s punishment would have to be different than the guard’s. What then could it be? Her schedule had already been so regimented before this fiasco had occurred. There wasn’t much the queen could take away or restrict… The wedding was going to happen. There was no escaping it. The Mirelings would insist that it be held on Palnach this time. That was appropriate considering how the first wedding had gone. It would restrict the number of Kylee’s friends who would be able to attend. Perhaps that was punishment enough.

  But would that satisfy the Mirelings?

  The queen paused. “Kylee is a victim.” She cleared her throat, dug down deep to unearth a voice full of grief and regret. “Kylee is a victim.” She nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”

  All she had to do was convince the Mirelings that the princess had been bewitched by her guard. This was her first act of defiance after all, her first love. She was just a confused, misguided girl, but she could be brought to her senses. She would be…as soon as she was found and thoroughly scolded.

  The anger returned, threatening to crack the queen’s mask again.

  How could she? Hadn’t Kylee given any thought to the repercussions of her actions before she ran into the Platinum boy’s arms? Hadn’t she cared about the long hours her mother had spent, parlaying with the Mirelings? She knew better than this. She had been taught better than this. But she’d disobeyed at the first sign of potential unhappiness. What a selfish, ungrateful child!

  A knock at the door interrupted the queen’s thoughts.

  She looked up to see the scribe and the publicist entering the room. The scribe—Miyako didn’t know his name; it wasn’t impor
tant—was an older gentleman who rarely spoke but could transcribe a meeting faster than anyone else in the palace. Jillian the Publicist was a pretty young lady with brown hair and sharp green eyes. She always dressed in the latest fashion. She was a woman after the queen’s own heart.

  “I’ve already called a press conference, Your Majesty,” Jillian said with a bow of her head. “Reporters are flooding the main conference room downstairs as we speak.”

  “Good,” the queen said. “Begin a transmission to the Mireling royal yachts.”

  Jillian walked over to the computer located under one of the larger screens and began typing commands.

  The queen sat in the chair at the head of the table, once again smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress. It was a gorgeous ball gown of Jurthaan IV blue, and it made her feel ten years younger. The hairstylist had gone a little overboard with the glitter, but the braided updo was stupendous. Once all the fuss about the wedding was over, Queen Miyako was confident this style would give birth to a new trend among the ladies of Doeline.

  She was only aware of the king’s return when she saw his shadow on the shiny tabletop. “Closer,” she said.

  The king stepped forward until he stood just behind her chair, on the right side.

  “Shoulders back,” she hissed.

  He obliged.

  The queen rolled her eyes.

  She’d always told Kylee that marriage was a tool to be used for a country’s advantage. It was a legally binding contract, a permanent peace treaty, a stalemate, an opportunity to place a spy in your enemy’s court. To marry for any other reason was foolishness; this Miyako had learned long ago. Children could be acquired by other means. Physical pleasure could be achieved by other means. Love was powerful but brief, like a bomb. Nothing should ever be done in the name of love.

  When Miyako had first met Yoshiro, she’d been taken by his quiet manner and gentle attentions. He’d made her feel delicate for the first time in her life. She’d thought herself in love. How lucky it had been for her to find an eligible prince whom her parents approved of and she just so happened to fancy. It was a dream come true. But that gentleness Yoshiro exuded like sweat from his pores had quickly begun to stifle her after they were pronounced husband and wife.

  So what had love gotten her? A legally binding contract with someone she could no longer stand. She had gained a daughter but little else from their union. If she could do it over again, she would’ve chosen a husband more strategically.

  The queen had done her daughter a kindness by arranging this wedding. When she’d told Kylee she was to be married to the Mireling prince, Kylee had accepted the news without complaint. The queen had been proud of her; she believed Kylee understood the purpose of the marriage and what part she was to play. Too late had Miyako realized that her daughter had no intention of marrying the prince.

  The screen on the wall directly before the queen turned on. The Mireling royal family sat in what appeared to be sea sponge thrones. The interior of their yacht, like all of the Mireling ships, consisted of fleshy gray walls with furniture made out of coral, seaweed, algae, and oceanic rock. Because of the Mirelings’ hatred of dry atmospheres, a mist hung in the air around them, no doubt produced by the ship’s life-support systems.

  King Yavrouk had the body of a muscular human male, but the head of a giant koi fish. His bulbous eyes were the same burnt orange color as the spots along his pearly white scales. Two sets of barbels served as a strange double mustache, one above his fat lips and one below. His crown of seashells, silver, and precious stones sat heavily on his brow, curving around the dorsal fin running along the back of his head. He wore a tunic made of a silvery material with metal shoulder pads covered in green moss and a belt of similar metallic plates.

  Beside him sat Queen Melarue. Upon first glance, she was a frightening sight. She had specks of gold sprinkled in random clusters across her midnight blue skin. Two rows of tiny blue horns, starting above each invisible eyebrow, crested over her very round head. Completely black eyes sat on her flat face; only two small slits at the center of her face served for a nose. Her lips were full and painted black. Frills grew from either side of her head where ears should’ve been. Her arms and legs were much longer than her torso, giving her an abnormally long look. But there was undeniable grace in the way she sat, the way she walked, the way she spoke. She was calm and deliberate in everything she did. She was the epitome of royal delicacy.

  The queen wore no crown, only a simple strand of red algae with mother-of-pearl embellishments tied around her head. Her red multilayered robe had a striking resemblance to the fins of a Siamese fighting fish.

  And then there was Prince Maju. He took after his mother with his flat face, black eyes, frills, and webbed hands. But his skin was scaly like his father’s and green like his grandfather’s had been. He was their second son; he wouldn’t inherit his father’s throne, nor had he already been promised to the princess of another country on his home planet as his elder brother had been. He had the most to gain by this union with Kylee; she would make him a king. Still dressed in his tuxedo, he glared at the screen.

  The king spoke in Nachian, gesturing wildly at Queen Miyako and then at the planet of Jurthaan IV, which could be seen from a window behind him. The words were translated into English along the bottom of Queen Miyako’s screen. He was outraged. His son had been disgraced. He would not sign the Treaty of Mite, not until the persons responsible for ruining the wedding were apprehended and the prince was legally married to the Princess of Doeline.

  Queen Miyako nodded several times, all the while choosing her words and mastering her remorseful expression.

  “I cannot begin to describe my horror, disgust, and anger over the events of this day,” she said once she was given the opportunity to speak. “It should’ve been a celebration, a happy union between your planet and ours. Instead, there was chaos and shame. I can’t say my daughter is completely blameless in this, but she was not the instigator. This plan to disrupt the peace we have been trying so hard to build was concocted by Taren Platinum.”

  Her mouth twisted at the name. Her nostrils flared as she exhaled. She forged ahead. “He’s the real enemy here, not Kylee. He’s a commoner, a guard who took advantage of my generosity and beguiled my daughter into thinking herself in love. But she can be made to see reason. I believe this wholeheartedly. All we have to do is find them.”

  The prince interjected here, saying he had already sent soldiers after the cargo cruiser.

  “As have we. In the spirit of cooperation, I will send what information we have on the boy to aid you in your search. If you find them before we do, Taren Platinum is at your mercy, but please return my daughter unharmed.” Queen Miyako placed a hand over her heart. “I will punish her myself and prepare her for the next wedding date, which can be appointed by you at your earliest convenience. I urge you to be merciful, Your Majesty. She’s just a girl.” Her voice wavered but she lifted her chin and finished her message stoically. “Any news you discover about her would be much appreciated. Any news that my people discover will be passed onto you as well. I give you my word.”

  King Yavrouk nodded once, saying he would hold her to her promise. His eyes narrowed as he jabbed one of his four thick fingers at her.

  Take care that you do not make a fool of my son again, or we will be renegotiating the terms of our peace treaty.

  The new words scrolling along the bottom of the screen were an obvious threat. Queen Miyako’s hands tightened in her lap. If this had been any other sovereign, she wouldn’t have stood for it. But her spies’ accounts could not be argued against. The Mirelings could destroy Jurthaan IV. They had the manpower and new weapons, incredible scientific marvels that humans and Folinar couldn’t even begin to replicate. And they had been trying for over a year. The only way to survive was to appear weak and submissive.

  For now.

  So the queen bowed her head low over the table and forced herself to whisper, “Understoo
d, Your Excellency.”

  The transmission ended with a soft pop.

  She rose, pushing her chair back and pointing at the scribe. “Did you get all of that?”

  He looked down at his Personal Digital Assistant. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Good.” She rounded on her husband. “What I told them about Kylee and the Platinum boy will be our official statement on the matter. If the reporters ask what we are doing to retrieve her, you can tell them we have our best search and rescue team on the job. The Treaty of Mite will be signed and the wedding will be rescheduled once Kylee is found.” The queen ran her hands over the bodice of her dress yet again, albeit more forcefully than she had before. “Emphasize our successes this evening. We’re back in the Mirelings’ good graces. We’re working with them to recover our daughter. There is no threat of war. This will be corrected very soon and we will continue on the path to securing peace.”

  “My dear?” the king said, his brow quirked. “Does this mean I can take the lead at the press conference?”

  “I’m not in the mood to answer anyone’s questions right now, least of all yours,” she snapped. “Can I trust you to do as you’re told?”

  Yoshiro bowed. “Yes, my dear. Thank you.”

  She swiveled to face her publicist. “You’ve taken notes?”

  Jillian nodded, clacking away on her PDA.

  The queen smiled. The frustration and powerlessness brought on by her conversation with the Mireling royal family were cast aside now that she’d gained control of something again.

  “Let us go then,” she said to her husband. “The press awaits.”

  They had scarcely made it three steps away from the conference room before they were met by Quartermaine Jefferies, the palace’s head of security. The balding gentleman bowed before the king and queen.

  “Majesties,” he said once he’d straightened up. “We’ve brought Colonel Platinum and his wife in for questioning. I was told to alert you once we were ready to begin our interrogation.”