Free Planet America by Mack Maloney Page A

seen during a transport—gave the flying city an unusual emerald glow.
    The alert had been sparked by a very simple thing: a light at the top of the Imperial Palace had switched from white to red. This meant that O'Nay, the Supreme Ruler of the Galaxy, was changing locations. He was considered a god to many, an omnipotent being who reigned over 80 percent of the Milky Way, an empire encompassing billions of star systems and trillions of planets. His realm was so vast and far-flung, no one was really sure just how many people were under his rule. Hundreds of trillions certainly. Probably more.
    As such, O'Nay was much too important to move from one location to another without a great ceremony. These elaborate exercises involved hundreds of additional soldiers, officially known as Holy Palace Guards. Like the security troops around them, these soldiers were at the ready day and night, just in case O'Nay wanted to move.
    As far as anyone could tell, O'Nay spent most of his waking hours at the top of the tower built above the gigantic Imperial Palace. This tower was five hundred feet high and was considered a very sacred place. There was a small room at the top, a very simple affair, as described by the few mere mortals who had seen the inside of it. It lacked even the most basic comforts, reportedly containing but a single wooden chair. It was here that the Emperor would sit for hours on end, gazing out the room's only window, thinking his deep thoughts.
    He did come down occasionally, though, and that's when things could get buzzing on Special Number One. The assembled soldiers watched now as an eerie glow began descending the stairs from the tower. This was the odd greenish yellow haze that always marked the space immediately in front of and immediately behind the Emperor. In centuries past, it would have been called an aura. These days, it was known as the Holy Light.
    It took more than ten minutes for the Emperor and his coterie of special Tower Guards to reach the bottom level of the Imperial Palace. The massive front door finally opened, and . O'Nay was spotted within. At the first sight of him, music started up. Lots of it. The sudden blare of synthesized trumpet sounds, thick with pomp and circumstance, quickly filled the grand concourse. Then hundreds of small, white, mechanical flying things were released into the air. They fluttered across the grand walkway, then turned upward into the night sky, where they quickly disappeared forever.
    A battalion of House Guards formed up in front of O'Nay now. Their helmets and ceremonial weapons gleamed with nearly the same intensity as the zaser beams atop the floating city's tallest spires. Even in Big Bright below, a sort of hush descended, as word was flashed that O'Nay was coming down from his tower.
    As always, O'Nay himself seemed oblivious to all that was happening around him. He looked like a god: tall, sturdy, a full white beard and very long white hair that fell past his shoulders. He was wearing his usual long, flowing, emerald gown and had his gold green miter planted firmly on his head. In the center of this cone-shaped hat was the distorted image of a green three-leafed plant. This was the ancient symbol of the Specials, as the extended imperial family was known. It was one of the few things that had survived the three previous empires and the centuries of Dark Ages in between.
    O'Nay looked out on the grand concourse and slowly raised his hand. The music became louder. It was here that he was turned over to the Concourse Guards, soldiers even more massive than his imposing Tower Guards. Quickly surrounded by four phalanxes containing one hundred soldiers each, the Emperor began crossing the esplanade, gliding along as usual about three feet above the ground, his troops marching in unison on all sides of him.
    Once at the curb, O'Nay was met by another ceremonial army, the Holy Street Guards. With much weapons-slapping and boot clicking, they joined the head of the