Beneath Terran Thrones

Earth - Year 2358 “Ridiculous,” thought Charlote, as she walked past the guards. The Swiss Guard uniforms would be the first thing to go, she had imagined. Once she becomes governor, those uniforms will never see the light of day. Her father found it interesting keeping up with tradition and whatnot, but this was the future and they had to move on. Her and Mareka Tinibu were escorted by the guard through the hallways of the governor’s villa. The interior was well-lit with natural light and kept a traditional baroque design even though Charlote and her mother thought it was old timey, Isaac and his father the governor loved it on the other hand. Charlote stopped dead in front of a door, it was open, and she stared inside for a moment before going in. “Everything okay? Ma`am?” asked Mareka. Always the loyal admiral, served Charlote’s father and now chances are that he will serve the daughter. Leading the Earth’s fleet on their space endeavors, and some endeavors they will be. She just nodded and closed her eyes, she wasn’t really a fan of visiting this particular room. She walked inside slowly starring towards the bed, hoping and hoping to get a glance at him, but all she could see were the covers his feet and body hid his face as he lay on the bed. She turned her head to the right, Isaac buried in his work hovering over the table, the tablets and the diagrams. So busy he didn’t notice Charlote. She took a step forward and the old floorboards creaked beneath her, alerting Isaac. “Charlote?” he was surprised to see her. He lifted his face, his attractive nerdy and symmetrical face with a sharp jawline. Eyebrow raised. ‘She never comes here,’ he thought. Charlote looked at him for a second before finally making up her mind and decided to throw a glance towards her father on the bed. “How is he?” she asked, although the sight that she saw wasn’t pretty, anyway. Her father’s face was pale, some highlights of skin were purple as if he was dead already. Even though the heart monitor registered a faint pulse. “Worse…” he confirmed it. “I… I don’t know… know…” he started stuttering, his eyes getting teary. Charlote looked at him and stood frozen, she had no idea how to react or what to do. In simpler terms she didn’t do emotion, nor did she know how to deal with these sorts of situations. “Uhm…” she hesitated, before she parted her arms and embraced her little brother. He was shivering and shaking. “I’ve failed him… I couldn’t cure him,” he starred in the distance while his sister was embracing him. “What sort of doctor am I? If I can’t even cure my father?” “Shh… It’s okay, people go, people leave, people die. Our father is just old,” she whispered. “Not like this he is just ninety years old, he still has a lot to go,” said Isaac. Average life expectancy was a hundred and fifty years old here in the new future, with all their fancy gadgets and advancements in technology. Her arms tightened awkwardly around him. Her mind raced, searching for the right words to comfort him, but nothing seemed adequate. The sterile, clinical scent of the room mingled with the faint smell of antiseptic, making her throat constrict. Charlote shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting to the cluttered desk strewn with medical tablets and data pads. She wasn't used to seeing her brother like this—so vulnerable, so lost. Her own feelings were a tangled mess of frustration and helplessness. She glanced at their father on the bed, his frail form barely moving under the thin blanket. “I’ve tried everything,” he pulled away, wiping his eyes, he moved slowly towards the bed kneeling before his father and grabbing hold of his pale cold palm. “It’s something I’ve never seen before… Something evil that’s ailing him. Like an evil force.” "Isaac," she began, her voice more forceful than intended, "you did everything you could. Sometimes… sometimes we just have to accept that there are things beyond our control." She realized how cold her words sounded and immediately regretted them. Isaac’s shoulders slumped further, and he turned back to the table, staring blankly at the holographic display of his father's deteriorating vitals. "It's not just about control," he whispered, "it's about saving him. I swore I would find a way. And I’ve failed." Charlote fidgeted, her fingers twisting together as she tried to summon some semblance of empathy. She took a deep breath and forced herself to stay by his side, even though every instinct told her to retreat from this emotional minefield. She placed a tentative hand on his shoulder, the gesture stiff and unfamiliar. "You didn’t fail," she said, softer now. "You’re not some miracle worker, Isaac. You’re a doctor, a damn good one. You’ve done more than anyone else could. Sometimes… sometimes people just slip away, no matter how hard we fight to keep them here." Isaac’s eyes met hers, a storm of anguish and self-reproach swirling within them. "I thought I could do it, Charlote. I thought I could save him. I thought if I just tried hard enough…" his eyes becoming teary again. “I really wanted this…” he started sobbing uncontrollably. “I wanted this win, I wanted to save him!” Charlote's heart ached as she watched Isaac crumble before her, she knew how he felt, she went through the whole ordeal of wanting things, working hard for them, and failing all the same. His sobs filled the room, mingling with the beeping of the heart monitor and the soft hum of medical equipment. She felt a strange, uncomfortable twist in her chest—an unfamiliar mix of empathy and helplessness. Her instinct was to fix things, to control the uncontrollable, but here, she could do neither. Instead, she hugged him again and wanted to say the same things over again, bout how people die and stuff, but she was just so tired, tired of repeating the same things saying them repeatedly not knowing whether it’s helping Isaac or not. She couldn’t do it, she couldn’t do emotions now, not now when she is going to become the new governess and had all sorts of political matters to attend to. Come to think of it she never could, but she would work on that as soon as the situation calms down, after her father’s death and she becomes governess. “Ahem,” Mareka cleared his throat standing at the entrance wanting to be polite and not disturb them. “Mareka!” Isaac looked at him. “Master…” he bowed. “Master?” he looked at Charlote. “Charlote what have you been teaching our people?” he turned his head again towards the admiral. “Come on Mareka, you don’t have to call me ‘Master,’ you’ve known me my whole life.” “Yes, since your father brought you to the villa, you were so tiny in his hands” he reminisced. “Tell me Mareka, the night you and my father celebrated the news that he will have a son!” he exclaimed, Charlote rolled her eyes and interrupted. “That’s enough! We have more important things. Mareka, you had something to say?” she turned. “Yes… the car that you ordered is here…” “Oh… I see,” she was caught by surprise. She turned and looked at Isaac with a guilty look. “Go… I’ll be okay…” he took a deep breath. “I will be strong. I must.” “Are you sure?” she asked as he nodded. “Alright then. Very important things coming up, much work to be done,” she explained. “I know,” he replied softly as he nodded at her, and she turned around leaving the room together with Mareka. Both were making their way in the same hallways the way the came in, the further out they went from the villa the more they could hear the large crowd that had gathered before the gates of the villa. A mixture of supporters and haters of the current governor. Among them Futraxi species ready to look at the new governor of Earth hoping that their fate on Earth and their rights would improve. Journalists with their camps and RV’s waiting reporting every passing second the fate of the governor, each broadcaster must be the first one to report the death of the governor when it happens live. The guard opened the wooden doors of the villa, the sun shone on Charlote’s pale soft skin illuminating her white long hair making it radiant. She took a deep breath and took the first step. She was making her way towards the gates where the car awaited, the closer she approached the more it made the crowd rowdy, the guard could barely hold the perimeter and hold them back and in place. Journalists yelling to get Charlote’s attention and make an interview with her, but it wasn’t the place and time for that, just like the lifeless corporate emotionless robots journalists are, never taking the situation into consideration. Charlote had thought she made her way, until something made her stop dead in her tracks, her legs were wrapped around by something. She looked down and saw a small Futraxi girl hugging on her legs. “Miss. Martin, would you make it better for us?” she asked shyly. The whole world stopped, every person stopped breathing and starred. They needed to know the outcome of the whole interaction. Charlote’s ears were ringing her body temperature skyrocketed, her blood was boiling, as she remained frozen. The hatred she had toward the Futraxi was immeasurable. She looked at the girl, their pointy ears and no noses, such were the Futraxis.