Null in Void .01

Seven YC later.

Albin was lying on a two meter high rock formation. It was warm from the sun but he dared not move. His adrenalin was pumping but he would scarcely take a breath for fear of being heard. His thumping heart was so loud it made him paranoid. He crawled forward and peeked over the edge of the low precipice. A dangerous and savage escaped slave was on his trail, ready to scalp and gut him. If only he could get to his safe spot. He heard a long low whistle from across the valley. A light flashed from amongst some dense shrubbery at an estimated two hundred metres away. He pulled a mirror from his own pocket ready to return the signal. “This increases my chances.” He whispered to himself. He knew that their enemy was behind him and could not possibly see the reflection of Moro light if he directed said light perpendicularly away from the hunter. He flashed with his mirror five times towards his ally, two second counts between each flash. No immediate response... he waited. Light flashed from the shrubbery and immediately he became aware of movement in the grass behind him. He resisted the urge to look back over his shoulder. The sweat exploded of off his forehead. He remained still. It seemed like minutes though it was two seconds. Light flashed again.
Grassy movement sounds recurred, heart now racing. Third flash. A burst of movement from the rear left at around eight O clock. Albin turned his head and pressed his right cheek against the cooking rock. A tanned eight year old youth raced past below him at unbelievable speed. Scruff cloth pants with no shirt and a trailing headband. Albin pushed himself up to his hands and knees. “If there is fifty meters distance between us I could risk running for the manor.” The shrubs on the other side of the valley started to rock violently and birthed a boy in a buttoned up shirt with leather shoes and woven short breeches all tailor made. The boy ran with all his might towards the Domitian manor. “This is my chance.” Albin scrambled off the rock and sprinted towards the manor jumping and dodging the hindering bushes and stones. The other party moving parallel to him across the valley. Seth caught sight of Albin but did not change target and kept course. He held a small blunt wooden object and proceeded to stab his victim in the back with it. “Ha, you're dead!” Seth exclaimed while immediately changing trajectory to intersect his secondary target before he gets inside the safe zone. “Not fair. He cheated!” Exclaimed the sore loser. Seth did not care about the butthurt. He was going to get two kills and feel awesome anyway. Albin felt less secure in his current situation and started to doubt his previous assessment of fifty and thought that twenty five meters might have been a more favourable calculation. “Don't panic Albin, focus.” He thought to himself. He recalculated his speed in comparison to the speed of his hunter and estimated the future point of contact. Veering to the right he sagaciously aimed for the far corner of the estate gardens, increasing the distance of his run to the demarcated safe zone considerably more for his rival than to himself. The race became more intense... “I live!” Was the triumphant exclamation as the knife swiped past the back of his neck mere centimetres. Albin fell on the grass panting. He saw Seth in a similar condition of respiratory attack. The loser was still far away grumbling and kicking at the weeds. Seth grinned, “I almost had you.” Albin just nodded in compliance. “I'm thirsty... water, milk or wattle gum juice.” “Wattle gum juice!”

Albin knew that the slave would never say no to the delicacies of the common people but gave him the options anyway. He brushed off his clothes and entered the back door of the manor. In the kitchen he poured juice into three clay cups whilst eavesdropping on a heated conversation emanating from the foyer. His curiosity bested him and he entered the room. “The people are ready to accrue for themselves better prospects in the colony!” The tradesman appealed with fervour. Albin sat himself down on the staircase and gulped at his beverage. “Your proposals would be sensible under normal circumstances but colonial expansion is best suited for peacetime.” Domitius riposted. “This war has been going for nine YC, are the people supposed to stall their dreams and ambitions for some vaguely defined purposes. Please consider that an expansion program will be beneficial to the war effort eventually.” Domitius knew that he was being evasive. He was finding it harder to guide the colony according to his vision, their growing despondency was worsened by his deflecting their requests with indirect excuses. Domitius did not want to rule with force, his exerting authoritarian command would only foster resentment towards him among the Khanid landowners. “We do not have a militia. How would we keep an influx of slaves servile if the war seems to turn against the Empire?” Domitius replied with rhetoric. “It is a valid concern. We should convene a council to address these issues and come to a consensus.” The trader was adamant and Domitius felt irritated. “This will not turn into a democracy! Tell me what you require and I will consider it, if I do not agree with you I will annul it and appoint an inquisitor to judge and punish all who dissent!” The tradesman lost his composure and shrunk back. “My lord, I am wary to say... there are no requests.” “No requests?” “Yes my lord.” Domitius was puzzled. The traders son came into the room with his cup of wattle juice and sat down next to Albin. “Father Ecknard informed me of the news... I applied for a licence two YC previously.” Domitius felt uneasy. “What news?” “... A licence has been issued from Khanid Prime... they are sending extractors to Moro III.” Domitius went pale. Thousands of implications flooded his mind. Economic problems, ecological issues and a very much more complex political situation. He remained unresponsive for a moment. “I understand. Isidore, you may go.” The tradesman bowed lower than was required of him then reached towards his son. “I apologise for my insolence.” Domitius ignored the man who quickly left the premises. Domitius looked at his son. “Never become too familiar with your subjects Albin... Dammit, he has created more problems for the colony than he could realise.” “Yes pappa. Pappa? Are we going to see real space ships!”

“We are...” Domitius admired his son's innocence. “big ones.” He smiled.