Book One: Chapter Four: ii

“Well, Toal, then what happened?” asked Saoirse.

“I actually don’t know much of what occurred, given I was not present with Cillian during his mad ride through the city. But from what I gathered from the police report, a group of other similarly mad festival goers joined Cillian, all with horses of their own. Soon there were a few dozen riders, all streaking up and down the streets of the capital, and all the while being chased by the Mounted Police Corps. At some point in the evening, they were apparently allowed onto the National Horse Racing Tracks, where an actual horse race was already occurring. How on earth they managed to get the security to let them in through the side gates is anyone’s guess, but I suspect that Cillian’s Family name and reputation had something to do with it. You can imagine what ensued after that. Absolute chaos is what it was.”

“You’re joking,” said Saoirse, a look of incredulity upon her face.

“No, not at all joking,” continued Toal. “Cillian and his merry band of high-on-mushroom loonies joined the other riders in the horse race of a lifetime, watched on by several thousand cheering onlookers. This portion of Cillian’s wild adventure was actually recorded as the race was being live-streamed across Bohemia. I have already watched the footage, and it is admittedly quite hilarious.”

Toal began to laugh at the recollection, his slow rumbling laughter causing his braids to shake back and forth.

“How did they end up catching you?” asked Saoirse. This time her question was directed to Cillian.

“They did not catch me,” he said in a tone of mock anger. “I surrendered. Truth be told, I had grown bored and a little weary. I wanted a nap, and I knew I would have my own private sleeping quarters at the Police station.”

“He had broken several laws,” said Toal as he withdrew a slip of paper from a pocket and began reading aloud. “Larceny; civil disruption; incitement to a riot; public nudity in a non-authorised area; and the assault of a Policer Officer.”

“I object vehemently to the last noted offence,” said Cillian. “The rest is likely true, but I never assaulted that fool of a Police Officer. The clumsy dunce simply fell face first on my boot when I was trying to assist him up the tree. What a preposterous accusation!”

“At any rate,” continued Toal. “Those were the noted violations committed by our rebellious Captain.”

“Where was Reginald during this entire affair?” asked Saoirse. “Last time I saw the pair of you, he was still with you. That was admittedly two days ago.”

The ‘Reginald’ that Saoirse was referring to was Cillian’s personal bodyguard robot. The military-grade assault robot had been issued to Cillian when he had attained the rank of Captain some ten years prior. All Boheme officers of rank Captain and above were required by the Military authorities to travel with a robot bodyguard escort when away from their primary ship. Even during their Down-Time. This was a mandatory safety precaution to protect Military Officers who were at a significantly higher risk of assassination or kidnapping attempts. Cillian hated the rule, as he valued his independence so dearly, but he had no choice but to comply with the mandate. For the most part, at least.

“Well,” said Cillian. “It took us the better part of an afternoon to shake the old nanny. He is worse than a nursemaid chasing after an errant toddler when he sets his mind to it. He just would not let up in his tireless pursuit.”

Saoirse began to laugh amiably at the image conveyed by his metaphor.

“Poor Reginald. And I presume you were the errant toddler in this scenario?” she asked, her expression quizzical as she raised an eyebrow.

This line of personal bodyguard robots had been programmed to follow and guard their ward at all times and at all costs when away from the ship, even if ordered by the Officer not to.

“We managed to entice the persistent old codger into an abandoned heavy duty shipping container on the pretext of looking for spare parts for Toal’s workshop. But the wily fellow was already onto us.”

“Yes,” said Toal, taking up the story. “He was quite suspicious that we would be so far outside the city’s limits when a festival was in full swing.”

“Not to mention his memory of all our past duplicitous ploys to rid ourselves of him,” said Cillian.

“But this time we got the better of him and we managed to trap him in the container. Mind you, he made short work of the container door, the laser weapons built into his arms cutting through the one and a half inch thick steel like butter. But we had slowed him down enough for us to make our escape in Cillian’s Fimbul Lowbie.”

Toal paused in his regaling of the story to take a few short sharp puffs of his pipe. Cillian continued the tale and said, “Of course Reginald used the thrusters on his feet to chase us up in the air, but we were headed for Nemed, so he soon had to give up the chase as his thruster fuel was rapidly depleted. He was forced to capitulate and returned to Ádh in defeat.”

Nemed was the National Space Station that was located in the extra-atmospheric space directly above Danu. It was easily accessible by an x-small ship like a Fimbul Lowbie, even by an xx-small ship, but the jet thrusters, located on the underside of the metallic feet of Reginald, were not capable of propelling him such a vast distance.

“And then what happened?” queried Saoirse.

“We went to a few parties up on Nemed, but we soon grew bored with the scene,” responded Cillian.

“Only the snooty elites like to party up on Nemed. Except these snooty elites,” said Toal, pointing his pipe at Cillian and then Fiadh. Toal was making fun of the fact that Cillian and Fiadh were part of one of the most powerful and wealthiest Families in Bohemia. The O’Tuathail Family were the wealthiest Family in Bohemia and, whilst they were no longer the most powerful politically, and had not been since the tragic death of Caedmon O’Tuathail, the founder of Bohemia, they still retained significant political power thanks to their mother Una O’Tuathail. 

Una O’Tuathail was the Clann Chief of Clann Aodh and had been in this position for the last six years. After mourning the loss of her husband, Cian O’Tuaithail, who had disappeared mysteriously eighteen years prior, Una had decided to enter the arena of Clann and Family politics. She was a naturally talented orator and debater and had worked for much of her younger life prior to having children as a diplomat. She was, therefore, already well versed in the subtleties of politics. Her eldest son, Liam O’Tuathail, had followed her on this path and he had just served his first year as an Aodh Clann Councillor.

“I am neither snooty nor an elite,” said Cillian, holding his nose in the air. Besides, I have spent far too long with you riff-raff to be considered as an elite by any of my peers.”

“Ah ha. So you admit they are your peers, then.”

“As are you all. Everyone is my peer. Except that damnable dog of yours. Duke! I am convinced that the beast is mocking me with its ridiculous saluting and looking at itself in the mirror. I believe it has a severe case of narcissism.”

“Well, that makes two of you then,” muttered Toal around his pipe, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“What was that?” said Cillian, leaning forward over the table.

“Okay,” interjected Saoirse. “So, Toal, going back to the part in the story where Cillian got arrested, what did you say to get him free?”

“Oh, the usual story, that Cillian was a retarded sibling of mine who had unfortunately suffered a terrible kick to the head from a horse as a child and had never been the same since. I told them that he had escaped from his cage during the festivities and I apologised profusely and promised to take him home immediately and lock him back up again.”

Saoirse began to laugh, which made the others begin to laugh, and soon, even Aislinn was laughing.

“They surely didn’t believe that,” said Saoirse after she had caught her breath.

“Not one word of it.”

“Oh. So how did he get free then?”

“Well,” said Cillian. “As to that, they realised their mistakes, apologised profusely and simply let me free.”

“Lies,” said Ádh, her voice coming from all directions thanks to the many speakers installed in the mess hall. “The probability that he bribed the guards to let him free is very high.”

Despite the fact that Ádh had not intended to be funny, the others broke out into laughter again at this statement.

Cillian let out a groan of despair, but before he could respond, Eoin spoke up.

“Sorry to change the subject,” said Eoin. “But I was wondering who would replace Kieran in the role of rig operator now that he has chosen to retire?”

The laughter subsided quickly, and all attention turned to Cillian, awaiting his response. This was a serious topic and one that everyone had been speculating about.

Kieran had been the rig operator aboard Ádh for the past ten years. He had been part of the original crew that Cillian had formed ten years prior when he had attained the rank of Captain in the Bohemian National Military and had finally been able to choose his own squadron crew. No one had known Kieran’s exact age, but the crew had suspected that he was in his late eighties. This was actually relatively young for retirement, as the average Bohemian life expectancy was around one hundred and thirty-five years. As a result of advances in medical technology, the rate of aging for the Boheme population was significantly slower than it had been for their Terran ancestors. It was for this reason that many Boheme were still actively working even past a hundred.

Kieran had still been fit and healthy when he had decided to retire from military service therefore, his reasons for retirement had not been health related. Rather, he had told them that he wished to focus his time and energy on sculpture, which was his passion. The crew had held a big farewell party for Kieran on the first evening of their return from space and the next morning Kieran had taken his leave of the crew and had departed back to the Corca Oiche Clann mothership.

“Good question, Eoin,” said Cillian as he stood up and began to pace the length of the room. “I have been thinking about this a great deal myself. Whilst I do not have any specific candidates in mind, I believe I would like to take on a young recruit fresh from the National University. As much as we loved dear old Kieran, he was a little long in the fang and I believe we need some new young blood in the crew. No, his replacement shall be someone much younger. Someone malleable that I can knead into the form I desire. And a female this time. With a fresh mind and spirit, eager and willing to do whatever was needed. Yes, a fresh young malleable female recruit would do nicely.”

Cillian turned back to the crew but instead of the nods of agreement he was expecting, they were all shaking their heads at him, and Saoirse was mouthing ‘you idiot’. It was Aislinn’s expression, however, that truly caught his attention; her eyes seemed to flay him with the intensity of her jealous stare.

“Uh… no. That came out all wrong. I can see now how that would sound to you all. Oh dear me, what have I done. What I meant to say is that I will go out this very day to find an appropriate applicant with the capacity to diligently and effectively perform the inherent job requirements of the role. Questions of age, sex and experience will not form any part of the decision-making process. Better?”

“Actually, I believe —“ began Eoin, but he was suddenly cut off by Cillian.

“Oh do be quiet, you; it was a rhetorical question. So dearest angel of mine,” said Cillian, an endearing tone entering his voice. “How about some tea then?”

The death stare she directed in his direction spoke volumes.

“Urgh... right then. I was not really thirsty anyway. I think I may take this as an opportunity to depart,” said Cillian as he began to back rapidly towards the mess hall entrance.

Cillian noticed that Aislinn had by now picked up a nearby teapot. “Uh… it has been a lovely chat but I really must be off so let us continue this discussion another time, shall we? Right; I am off then.” With those final parting words, Cillian ducked through the doorway, narrowly avoiding a teapot that had been flung by Aislinn.