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

In moments only a small retinue surrounding the queen remained, including the astronomers and her guardsmen. The Yxleti had stayed silent, impassively floating a few handspans above the ground as the humans reorganized themselves.

Kate glanced at the flat black eyes and suppressed a shiver at the sight of its tentacle-fringed mouth. It might be a horrible-looking creature, but so far its purposes had not seemed inimical, and it was clearly possessed of an intelligence equal to their own.

“Are you the only one of your kind who has come?” the queen asked it.

“More await…in vessel…this emissary.”

The captain of the guard stirred at this news, and the prince sent him a quelling look. It had been wise of the creatures to send a single ambassador, and Kate was further convinced the Yxleti had arrived with peaceful intentions.

“You are welcome here at the palace,” Queen Victoria said. “What might we do to further relations between your kind and ours?”

“Stable rule must first be…many queens.”

Queen Victoria glanced at her husband, then back to the creature.

“Do you mean our children?” Her voice was chilly.

“Not…it is Victoria Regina…reign again.”

The queen’s brow furrowed, and Kate understood her confusion. How could the queen reign again? She was already the monarch.

“I think, though it is simply a guess, that they mean to replicate you in some fashion,” Prince Albert said in a low voice.

Kate blinked at the notion. It seemed unbelievable—but who knew what the Yxleti were capable of? After all, they journeyed between the stars. Perhaps creating a new Queen Victoria was a simple matter for them.

“Is this true?” the queen asked the Yxleti hovering a few paces before her. “You mean to re-create my very essence? It seems most ungodly.”

“Each queen sleeps until reign is ended…then wakes and is self…at moment of preserve. Best…for peaceful humans always.”

Queen Victoria took a step back, her mouth twisting in distaste. “I cannot countenance such a perversion.”

“Then…Napoleon three will select to rule…if you decline. Humans must have single ruler.”

“Bloody hell,” the captain of the guard muttered. “The damnable creature’s blackmailing you, your majesty.”

“Of course it is.” The queen’s eyes narrowed. “But what choice do we have? We cannot let the French rise to ascendency.”

“I have little doubt Bonaparte’s nephew will leap at the chance,” Prince Albert said. “Much as it might go against the laws of nature, my dear, you must accept the Yxleti’s offer, or the world will end up under the thumb of a petty dictator rather than your beneficent and enlightened reign.”

The queen drew in a breath through her nose, and Kate leaned forward, her chest tight. Of course her majesty would do what was best for the Empire, but what a difficult choice.

“Very well,” Queen Victoria said. “We will do this thing—under three conditions.”

“Tell,” the Yxleti said.

“The first, that we be allowed to continue to reign as we see fit, without Yxleti intervention.”

“Is already plan,” the crackling voice said.

Kate regarded the creature. Of course it would make promises, but who knew if it would actually keep them?

“The second,” the queen said, “is that our beloved husband also be subject to this process, so that we might have him at our side during every reign.” She threaded her arm through Prince Albert’s and gave him a look filled with emotion. “Will you consent to this, my dear?”

He covered her hand with his own. “I do. My place is at your side, your majesty. Year after year, to time immemorial.”

The Yxleti remained motionless, but the still air was interrupted by a brief hum. After a moment, the creature turned its head toward the orb.

The crackling voice rang out. “Agreed…what is third ask.”

“That you share with us the means by which you travel and explore the celestial sea. We, too, harbor the desire to set out in search of worlds unknown, and to bring the Empire to every corner of the stars. Will you aid us in doing so?”

This time there was no hesitation.

“Is intent,” the Yxleti said. “In starset we come…procure duplicates of queen.”

It turned and glided back to its vessel, clearly signaling that the meeting was at an end. The queen did not call after it, though her face was still filled with questions. As soon as the Yxleti entered, the oval doorway sealed shut. The now-familiar humming suffused the air, and slowly the dark orb rose.

The nearby guardsmen scrambled back, and with a whoosh of air and a steady hum, the Yxleti ascended. The orb hurtled away nearly as quickly as it had come. Kate followed its flight until it was swallowed by the searing brightness of the larger sphere.

Blinking away tears, she dropped her gaze.

“Oh my,” Queen Victoria said under her breath. “Whatever have we done?”

“Either saved all of humanity, or doomed it.” Prince Albert slid his arm about the queen’s shoulders. “I prefer to think the former. Steady on, my dear.”

The queen nodded, then turned to the dozen people gathered on the terrace. Kate glanced about, to see that everyone wore half-stunned looks that no doubt mirrored her own. She still could not quite credit what she had just witnessed.

“Everyone,” Queen Victoria said, “attend me inside. We must draw up our accounts of this momentous event. On this day, the course of the word has turned.”

She swept regally toward the French doors leading into the palace. The captain of the guard followed close behind, and then the astronomers and queen’s attendants.

Kate hung back a moment, casting a final look over her shoulder at the sphere that had once been nothing but a bright speck in the sky, and now was the harbinger of an unimaginable future. It cast its silvery reflection over London, offering no answers—only strangeness beyond compare.

The London Universal Times, August 1907

Obituary Notice: On 10 August, Lady Kate Danville, member of the Royal Society and bestowed the title of Baroness of Canticus by Victoria I, passed quietly in her sleep. She is survived by her younger brother, nieces and nephews. A long-time advisor of the prior queen, Lady Danville was one of the few still alive in this century who witnessed the glorious arrival of the Yxleti, and was part of the council which helped usher in the new age of space exploration and global prosperity. Queen Victoria II has commissioned a statue of Lady Danville to be placed in the First Greeting sculpture garden on the landing site at Buckingham Palace.

Per Lady Danville’s request, her ashes will be scattered between the stars, to float forever at peace beneath the eternal suns of the British Empire.

Originally published in Tales of Feyland & Faerie by Anthea Sharp, published November 2015.

If the men caught her, they would tie her to the stake and set the fire.

Eileen O’Reilly crouched beneath a hawthorn tree, her heartbeat dinning in her ears so loudly it nearly drowned out the sound of her pursuers. Torchlight smeared the night, casting fiendish shadows over the hedgerows. She clenched her hands in her woolen skirt and gasped for air, trying to haul breath into her shaking lungs.

She had heard there was no worse agony than burning alive.

The flames would scorch and blister her skin before devouring her, screaming, as her bones charred. Eileen swallowed back bile.

Shredded clouds passed over the face of the half moon. One moment, sheltering darkness beckoned; the next, the newly-planted fields were washed with silver, her safety snatched away.