By David C. Daoust
The Royal Alliance was much more than simply its Viceroys. More than, even, the Gangsters that infested the Narrows. Despite the seeming commonness of those against the Viceroy’s, the truth was they had supporters. Truth was, they never would have found themselves in power, had they not had supporters.
The Viceroy Parties were made up of those that tried to fill the void after the Royals shipped off to live in their planetary domes. They tried to maintain the culture they were familiar with, to mirror the socialist government that had ushered them through the Ark Age. Put simply, there were those that had supported the Viceroy parties of their own volition, those that looked to these appointed officials to lead the way.
To those like the First Wave, such supporters were considered ‘Cronies’– really only looking to benefit off smoozing with those that had stolen power. The truth was, these were just more normal people, just like the rest, working through their lives trying to provide what, they thought, was best for their families. The ‘Viceroys’ were simply their answer.
For the First Wave and their ilk still trapped in the Narrows, there was always that derogatory slant on the ‘Viceroys’, their ‘Cronies’, and their ‘Media Darlings’. The Media Darlings were those that held sway over the airways despite not being a Viceroy. They were commoners propped-up, chosen to carry on the message… to do their part to empower the Royal Alliance.
Hugo Lions, was, at one time, such a Media Darling. This was long before the corruption of the Viceroys. The corruption of the entire Confederation, really. Considering, not only had the Viceroy’s attempt at Socialism fallen to what was more aptly called ‘State-Capitalism’ but the capitalist ‘Trade Consortium’ had morphed into Corporatism… it was hard not to view the entirety, as anything but Corporatism.
So, the life-loving, egalitarian message that Hugo Lions had spent, so very long, roaring through his genetically altered vocal cords, all to prop-up those that had propped him up, was a symbiosis that had not led to the world he wanted to live in.
One might even say such a message had fallen on def ears. Or so it had seemed to Hugo when he left all that behind, found his way into the Narrows, and nearly faded to nothing.
That is if he had not found the Blue’s! Had he not wedged himself into their family, really.
Now, he found himself in the precarious position of watching over the youngest of the Blue sisters. All of whom seemed hell bent on speeding to the frozen north…
Mr. and Mrs. Lauren were the only other adults aboard- Olivia seemed to think this was the best course of action. Wilford, too, seemed ready.
Fact was, they had ALL come from ‘space’, which was a far greater threat than some measly tundra. Ultimately, they had the Rover, which could create a perfectly habitable habitat; even if the moon was a barren atmosphere-less rock, they could traverse it with ease. The vehicle was pretty much a spaceship on wheels, easily capable of surviving the perils of space; anything the moon might throw at them should be laughable.
Worrying over the tundra was pointless. Not to mention the girls were all dressed like First Wave, which, some may say was overkill- Some, even, would say it was as if they were scared to be suddenly sucked back into space… Seriously, not everyone was kind about how those spawned of the Narrows chose to dress.
Hugo had switched over long ago, mostly wore stylish jeans and a heavy shirt under his trademark fur lined coat, which just looked good against his scales, in his opinion. But anyway, he pulled himself away from the reflective surface he found his gaze locked upon as he pondered dress, and continued down the corridors.
Moments before the old jinn had pried himself free of the family-room full of the hodgepodge crew working towards their newfound quest to plunge themselves into the tundra. He did this in the hopes of catching up with the First Wave boy, Ratchet; maybe make sure he was ‘okay’ after such an uncharacteristic outburst.
Hugo leaned heavily on his cane as he made his way around the next bend. While it was suggested that Ratchet ‘take a nap’, Hugo was pretty sure he had headed towards the bridge of the Vehicle.
There was a slight incline and a short set of stairs that Hugo was already building up the gumption to overcome as they came into view. He could see Ratchet through the doorway within, it looked as though he was talking to someone. He had to assume it was Hamlin, considering his height would explain why he could not quite see him yet from his position in the hallway. He noticed Ferguson’s bulbous form suddenly hover between them- blocking out Ratchet for a moment.
When Ratchet was back in view, he seemed to be reacting to something outside. In fact, the boy looked startled.
Hugo did what he could to overcome the distance between them, in a much quicker fashion; ALL to see what could be going on in there. It was suddenly apparent to him that, rather than worrying about the young’ns heading out into the tundra, maybe he should worry more about his own ability to navigate such an environment…
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