Gleaming golden posts supported a heavy red velet rope that sectioned the royal viewing area from the rest of the enclosed amphipheter. Sayeeda judged the distance with her eye. Up onto the seat infront of her and two bounds to reach the nearest post. A half second to unhook the rope and she could club the nearest royal guardsmen before he could possibly get his gold chased holster unsnapped. No time to retrive the weapon but she could get into the access stairway the man was guarding. Maybe she could aim her blow to drive him through ahead of her that would give her a moment to grab his pistol. The heavy twelve round slug thrower ought to be enough…

A comment from Aiden drew her out of her fifth exit strategy. She made a polite vaguely affirmative response to some social program or another he was planning for one of the outlying worlds. The opera was interminable. It was delivered in a barely intelligible archaic dialect and the best she could tell it told the story of the rise of the monarchy after the collapse of some sort of democratic forerunner. The various democratic figures represented each of the seven deadly sins, or so she gathered from the program.  

Sayeeda had been raised in the middle class of a wealthy world and had at least an intellectual appreciation of the arts inculcated into her as a child. Years spent in battle, bars and brothel had atrophied he ability. She was dressed in a diaphanous gown composed of layers of chiffon fabric over a bodystocking which was patterned with ivy. The result made her look as though she was some sort of nymph shrouded in mist. Tasteful gold jewelry claspsed her neck and wrists and small intricately carved emeralds glinted in the shifting light. The clothiers had fretted over her wounded arm in despairing tones before wrapping her wrists and forearms with fine traceries of ivy patterned gold. A piece of similar design hung from her bare shoulders, covering her upper chest with more golden ivy leaves and supporting three large rubies which formed a decolletage. 

Her hair had been its own problem. It was far too short to indulge in the elaborate curled styles that were currently popular at the court. Instead it had been gathered into a simple bun atop her head and pinned into place with gold and emerald brooches. Junebug was fairly certain that the whole ensemble cost more than all the clothing she had ever owned put together.

“You look lovely tonight my dear,” Aiden said, the sincerity of the statement evident in his voice. The prince as well turned out as well. A tunic of gleaming white silk with subtle silver piping was offset by a scarlet sash and a golden lanyard. His pants were black with slightly reflective onyx patterns inlaid into the fabric. Aiden had remarked that it was a dress uniform from some regiment or another of which he was the honorary colonel when she had asked about the vaguely military cut of the garment. It was a wonder that the thing wasn’t dripping with inventive medals and honors, although perhaps Aiden had been astute enough to realise her likely reaction to such boasting.

Junebug squeezed Aiden’s hand, he was pleasant enough company but she found it difficult to talk to people in civilian settings. Most  her stories and anecdotes were wildly inappropriate for polite social gathering. The thought brought a smile to her lips which seemed to please Aiden. 

The opera house itself was a vast enclosed ampipeter, the royal box in which she and Aiden as well as a handful of lesser members of the royal family sat was a balcony centrally located and halfway up the semicircular enclosure. Guards secured access stairwells at either side. The acoustics were marvelous and even at the distance enforced by the size of the room she could catch every nonsensical syllable the performers uttered. It also made use of state of the art holographic technology to render amazingly realistic background to the sweep and thrust of the action. Many of the audience members used glasses to view the action but Sayeeda didn’t have the interest to make a closer inspection necessary and viewing something through optics too easily transported her into a headspace she didn’t need on what was ostensibly a date. She considered the distance between her and the security guard again, not that she needed much encouragement.

Neil and Taya had been seated as close as possible to the Royal box without actually being inside of it. Both of them had cleaned up nicely although Neil’s suit was worn in deliberately informal fashion. She wondered just how the pilot had avoided climbing the walls in boredom. Maybe he was an opera fan. Taya certainly seemed to be chatting animatedly enough for the pair of them. This was an odd place for the girl, she was an aristocrat on her own world but Fornax was rustic compared to the sophisticated splendor of Dar'monad.

“I know is a little on the boring side,” Aiden whispered, “but these are the sort of things expected of a Prince.

“And a king as of tomorrow,” Junebug pointed out with another smile. Aiden groaned as though physically pained.

“Stars don’t remind me,” Aiden rejoined, though he was smiling too.

“Whatever you say… your majesty,” Sayeeda said with a wink. Aiden laughed in full throated good humor.

“Do you know what I love about you Junebug?” Aiden began. Two black coated men walked onto the stage from left and right. There was the slightest of hesitations in the performance although they didn’t so much as miss a note of the gibberish they were singing. Junebug narrowed her eyes at the way the cloaks hung around the newcomers.

“It is that you are so..” Junebug uncoiled like a spring as one of the black cloaked men threw back his garment to reveal a boxy looking assault rifle. With a twisting leap she caught Aiden across the chest and knocked the Prince to the ground a heartbeat before the chatter of automatic gun fire ripped the room. White hot plasma flashed over her head blasting the cushioned seat back into a cyclone of burning splinters. The nearest security guard unlimbered his weapon just in time to be hit by a plasma bolt between thigh and chest. The pressure wave of vaporizing tissues slammed the guard into the wall. He bounced off and fell over the guardrail plunging into the pit below. Terrified screams echoed around the auditorium.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm, we have come for the tyrant Aiden on the charge of murder of his own blood!” The words boomed over the public address system, though the screaming and the gunfire continued. Aiden pulled a communicator of some sort from his pocket and tumbed it on. Even over the cacophony of the opera house the squeal of radio frequency jamming was evident. Leopard crawling to the edge of the box Sayeeda looked up the steps towards the emergency exit. She ducked back just in time to avoid the stream of plasma bolts that a gunman crouched in the exit sent flying towards her. A fat man cowering a floor below her took one of the rounds to the top of the head, his toupe spinning away in a smokey arc.

“I really hope it is how I am so not going to die in the next few minutes,” she shouted to Aiden over the tumult. 

[@POOHEAD189]