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   Chapter 41 No.41

Prodigal Sun By Christina Engela Characters: 6303

Updated: 2018-07-19 19:01

The remote camera operators appeared to get a little confused, and the viewing angles changed erratically for a few moments, Marla de Bris noticed, watching tensely from her apartment across town. Apparently they hadn't expected a speech after having unintentionally covered a royal assassination – and she was certainly not going to blame them!

The angle eventually changed to show the figure on the podium at a distance, then tightened to show him in more detail. He had a chiseled jaw, short light hair, and seemed to be mid-thirties, wearing something reminiscent of a military dress uniform. Marla looked closer, as close as she could. The uniform was black, and the badges and insignia gleamed and glinted in the light of day, but she couldn't make them out on the screen. They reminded her of another time. A much darker time.

"People of Deanna." The man's first words rang out clearly via a PA system across the Square, and silence began to fall as he raised his hands in his appeal for calm and quiet. Everyone around Danielle began to fall silent and listen intently.

"People of Deanna – do not fear!" He repeated, his voice clear and concise, and despite the smile that played on his thin lips, there was a chill in his tone as he cast his icy gaze across the length of the front row of spectators.

"Unfortunately, as you may have noticed, we were unable to arrive in time to save the life of poor Prince Justin, who has tragically died at the hands of terrorists – and unfortunately, his assassin seems to have escaped us! But do not fear! Terrorism is among you, and has been hiding in the shadows of your apathy and in the silence of your inaction! Still, do not fear! For too long, you have lived with monsters in your midst – but you need fear no longer – we are here!"

The man lowered his arms, and paused a moment while he looked down at the papers he opened

se around her looked ashen and displayed a mix of emotions. The Square had been filled with what could have been called 'patriots', fans of the imperial family and loyal supporters of the Terran Empire. Of course there were some there, like her, who had just come because it promised to be a nice distraction from what would have been an otherwise routine Monday, and because she had thought Prince Justin was 'kinda cute'.

Now she found herself standing literally facing the leading edge of a revolution, like a shaft of wheat in a field looking at the whirling blades of the approaching harvester – with no idea what was going to happen next!

Barricaded inside the Governor's Palace, Peg – and what remained of Deanna's colonial government – watched the finale on the TV screen on the wall in the paralyzed situation room. She and the staffers were realizing just how cut off they were. All the local official channels, radio and data, had been suddenly jammed. The uplink that connected Deanna to the rest of the interweb seemed to be offline. The map-table stopped. Even their mobile phones seemed disconnected from the network. Deanna – the legitimate Deanna – was isolated, cut off, unable to call for help. But "General" Clayne wasn't done yet.

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