SL Huang - Up and Coming - Stories by the 2016 Campbell-Eligible Authors

Was it a weapon, aimed at the heart of the Empire?

“Your majesty,” the captain of the guard urged, “please, return inside.”

“I will not be any safer within the walls than without,” Queen Victoria replied. “Whatever is approaching, we must meet it with fortitude.”

Already, the orb was much closer. Kate estimated it would land in the garden in no less than two minutes. As it approached the noise grew to a loud rumble.

The soldiers lifted their guns and trained them on the dark blot descending from the sky. Closer. Closer, until it was the size of a small outbuilding. It brushed past a few trees on the outskirts of the garden, and their branches snapped off and tumbled to the ground.

The air shook with a deep, mechanical roar. The surface of the man-made lake nearby shivered violently. Kate clapped her hands over her ears, watching as the object slowed to nearly a hover.

With excruciating delicacy, it landed on the manicured lawn of Buckingham Palace. The blades of grass beneath it wilted and sizzled. The orb seemed made of metal, yet no light sheened off the surface, and it had no discernible seams or rivets.

The noise cut off, and for a moment Kate wondered if she’d gone deaf. Perspiration stuck her dress to her chest, and she plucked at the fabric. Then the shouts of approaching soldiers punctuated the air as they poured into the garden and surrounded the black hulk of the orb, raising their guns.

“Hold your fire,” the queen commanded, sweeping out one gloved hand.

The soldiers shifted, but remained at the ready.

Noiselessly, the orb split in the front to reveal an elongated oval opening. Something stirred inside. The crowd leaned forward, fearfully fascinated, like a rodent before the sway of a cobra.

Faint movement—and then a creature floated out. It was not human, although it had two long appendages on either side that might be termed arms, and a head on top of its torso, surrounded by a clear bubble. Two flat, black eyes, turned on the crowd. Below those eyes, the creature had a slit for a nose, and a mouth full of writhing tentacles.

Bile rose in Kate’s throat at the sight, and she swayed. A nearby lady screamed and fainted, eased to the ground by her companion. No one else bestirred themselves to help—they were all transfixed by the dreadful sight hovering before them.

One of the soldiers yelled and discharged his musket. Kate flinched at the sound, half hoping the bullet hit its mark, the other half knowing they were all doomed.

The creature turned its head, and the soldier slumped to the ground. It was impossible to tell if he were dead, or merely stunned.

“Halt!” Queen Victoria cried, her voice finally taut with fear. “Do not shoot.”

“But, your majesty—” the captain of the guard began.

“No. We shall wait, and greet this creature as civilized beings, not vicious animals.” The queen took a single step forward. Her grip on her parasol seemed inordinately tight.

The thing turned toward Queen Victoria, and Prince Albert caught her elbow.

“Greetings,” the queen called. “We mean you no harm.”

“Yet,” a nearby lord muttered. “I think we’re better off shooting the damned thing.”

His wife hushed him, and Kate could not decide if she agreed with the man or not. Part of her could not believe this was happening—that the glint of light she had first spotted two weeks ago had brought a being from the stars to land here, in the heart of London. Such things simply did not happen.

And yet, the dark orb sat implacably on the greensward, and its occupant was even now gliding toward the terrace.

Kate sucked back a breath and resisted the urge to bolt for the French doors and cower beneath a table. Instead she clenched her hands and watched. The creature stopped a safe distance from the queen. Perhaps it understood the tightening of soldiers’ fingers on their guns, or recognized the acrid smell of human fear.

A crackling sound filled the air, and then a voice. Inhuman, certainly, with odd inflections and staggered pauses, but the words it spoke were recognizable.

“These…beings wish no harm is speaking…to ruler of earth.”

There was a pause, and Kate wondered if the last bit had been meant as a question. The queen seemed to draw the same conclusion.

“Indeed,” the queen said. “I am Queen Victoria, ruler of the British Empire. Who are you?”

“We are…eeixlltiey.” The final word was a garble of sound. Likely there was no match for it in the English language.

The creature’s tentacled mouth did not move, and the voice seemed to emanate more from the orb it had arrived in than from the alien figure. Still, there was no doubt it was communicating directly with them.

“Welcome to earth, Yxleti,” the queen said, making a valiant attempt to pronounce the name. “Tell us, why have you come?”

“To observe…explore…assess…”

A bead of sweat ran down the side of Kate’s neck, and she wiped it away. She did not much like the idea of being “assessed” by inhuman creatures from the stars. But they had devised a way to communicate in English, and clearly been wise enough to come directly to the queen of the largest empire on earth.

The prince leaned over and whispered something in Queen Victoria’s ear. She nodded, then turned to her captain of the guard.

“I believe our further dealings with the Yxleti are best done more privately,” she said, in a carrying voice. “Your guards may remain, of course, and my attendents, but please disperse the onlookers.”

The group of Royal Society astronomers protested, as did a few self-important lords. The rest of the crowd began to edge back toward the palace. No one quite turned their backs on the creature, or the strange conveyance in which it had arrived.

Kate was torn. Part of her wished nothing more than to find her mother and flee the bizarre spectacle. She craved a hot bath, and the opportunity to forget for as long as possible the proceedings of the afternoon.

Yet a larger part was aquiver with possibility. Their world had changed, of that there could be no question. She had been witness to what could only be the most extraordinary event in human history. She could meekly turn away and return to the path her parents and Society had laid out, or she could seize the opportunity before her. This was her chance.

Lifting her skirts, Kate strode past the astronomers, taking some small satisfaction from treading upon Viscount Huffton’s foot.

“Your majesty.” She made the queen another curtsey. “I beg your leave to remain. As discoverer of the vessel that bore this star explorer hither, I will pledge my life to your service, to the Empire, and to forwarding the understanding between humans and Yxleti. Please, let me stay.”

The queen regarded her a long moment from her cool brown eyes, and Kate fought to keep her legs from trembling. She must be confident and bold in this moment.

“Miss Kate Danville,” the queen said, “are you betrothed?”

“No, your majesty.” Despite her mother’s best efforts. “I am wholly committed to this endeavor, if you will accept me.”

“Your majesty,” Lord Wrottesley approached the queen. “If I may speak?”

The queen nodded, and the astronomer continued. “I happen to know that this is a young lady of great fortitude and determination. You might do well to take her.”

Queen Victoria inclined her head. “Very good. We consent to add you to our staff—for the time being. You may remain here.”

Kate shot a grateful look at Lord Wrottesley. She did not care if he had put in a word for her simply to spite Viscount Huffton, or if he truly believed she had the mettle to be of service. In either case, she vowed to be worthy.