Randy had slowly strolled towards another set of double doors during his verbal tour. Reaching them, he grabbed the double handles and pulled them open. Stepping to one side, he waved the group through. They all filed in. as they all stood in the middle, Randy pulled his sidearm, checked its load and placed it in its cubbyhole by the door. Then he removed his gun belt and hung it on its appropriate hook.
Even with a lower ceiling, the room still reflected the opulence of the foyer they had just left. Everyone saw why it was called the Game Room. Mounted trophies of wild animals adorned the walls. A bear, standing upright, nine or ten feet tall commandeered a corner. A mountain lion stood on three legs, the forth clawing at the air. A striped tiger hunkered down, ready to pounce. A large, hardwood table and chairs occupied one end of the room. The other end contained luxurious seating and a table with an obviously expensive 3D holographic projector. In another corner two chairs separated by a small table and a fireplace took up another corner. An obviously expensive humidor sat on the small table. Expensive, polished hardwood cabinetry and plumbing against another wall filled with expensive liqueur and crystal glassware denoted a well-stocked wet bar.
“You do live well, Mr. Roth.”
“We try our best, Mz. Gregor. And like I said before, call me ‘Randy’. My father is Mr. Roth.”
“Only if you call me ‘Harriet’.”
“Works for me.”
Harriet wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she was impressed. She was impressed with the rich, grounded luxury of this ancient family home. She was beginning to be impressed with this laid-back country man who exuded a quiet strength.
Everyone watched the short, quick interplay and picked up on the flirt, with its response. They all very carefully refused to react. Right on time, changing the air, Chester entered, followed by two waiters. His help carried trays of appetizers and snack food over to the table. After arranging the trays, along with cutlery, plates and linens, the waiters left.
“Anything else, Mr. Roth?”
“No, Chester. That will do. And, thank you.”
“Your welcome, sir.” With that, Chester followed his underlings.
“The bar. I’m pouring. Requests?” Randy looked directly at Harriet.
"Scotch. Rocks.”
“Scotch on the rocks coming up.” He poured three fingers of the expensive, amber liquid into a cut-crystal whiskey glass and added the cubed ice. Holding it out, he commented, “Madam.”
“Thank you, kind sir.”
“Next?”
Once everyone had their drinks of choice they all gathered around the table, sat, proceeded to attack the snacks and talked light talk. During the course of the conversation Lawrence noted the connection starting to build between his daughter and the son of the most powerful landowner on the planet. He approved. In fact he wondered how he could promote it. Having a foothold on Tolimar could lead to nothing but good.
“All these trophies. Which ones are yours?” Harriet asked.
“Only one. That one.” Randy pointed out a tusked boar’s head mounted on the wall.” I brought that one down when I was fourteen. That was the only sport hunting I did. Otherwise I hunt for food or ridding our lands of scavengers. I think that Father thinks I’m kind of a sissy.” He said the last with a small laugh.
“You’re anything but that,” Harriet commented as she looked down, into her glass.
Harriet’s father inwardly grinned. He had never seen his daughter smitten before. At that point he decided that he’d hang back, ask his questions about Tolimar and let the evening go wherever it wanted to go.
My great uncle brought down the bear. When grandfather was still alive, Father went on safari at Yeni Persia. He brought home the tiger. My sister actually bagged the mountain lion. We have a whole other wing for all of the animal trophies of our ancestors.”
During the light snack Randy started up the holographic projector and displayed a map of Tolimar’s main landmass. The first look at the three-dimensional relief map enforced why the city of Erstadt took the title of largest and most successful city on Tolimar. Sitting in the western quadrant of the continent, it took only a short drive to reach the ocean and accompanying fishing village. A forest-covered mountain range protected the valley from the storms that swept out of the north. Those same mountains became the funnel for all of the tributaries that ran down its ravines and gullies. The rushing waters eventually collected into one immense tributary that became the riverhead of a forked river, one branch flowing towards the town and one branch flowing through the prairies.
The pride in his homeland came through as Randy pointed out the various points of interest, the network of roads and trail ways, various towns and their specialties. He talked of their people and their desire to be free, unburdened by intrusive governments and regulations. If someone knew their history, they would have known that he was describing Midwest America in the eighteen hundreds.
Chester entered, tinged a small brass bell and announced, “Dinner is served.”
“I guess that is the end of today’s lecture,” Randy grinned as he shut down the holograph.
Everyone rose, grabbed drinks and followed the butler. Harriet held back, just a little, and succeeded in being escorted by Randy. Again, Lawrence noticed. The others pretended they didn’t. They all knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of the renowned Harriet wrath.
Chester led his charges back into the foyer, through the great hall and out through glass sliding doors to a mosaic-tiled terrace. The first thing that struck the group was the view. The Tolimar’s setting star bathed the northern range of craggy mountains, making the forested slopes almost iridescent. The backdrop of clouds reflected a chaotic mix of golds, oranges and reds that constantly shifted from the high winds collecting off the ocean, blowing up the mountain banks and swirling over the peaks. The tallest ones still wore crowns of snow, sparkling like white jewels. Down the center, a glistening stripe of silver wound its way to the plains below, announcing the beginnings of Tolimar’s largest river.
“Beautiful, isn’t it. If you look at the center of the range you can see the head of the Lange Fluss. If you ever get a day free, there’s a ride up to the waterfall that will knock your socks off.”
Just then two women, obviously mother and daughter, entered. Although dressed in simple sun dresses, bare legs and flat shoes, the two flowed in with the natural grace and presence of royalty. The younger woman paused just inside the door, checking the room, measuring the people. The older woman arrowed towards her son.
“This is the Grande Dame of Roth Manor,” Randy chided with a wide grin, pulled her in with a loving embrace around her waist and a peck on her cheek. “My mother, Martha. And the fiery blond is my sister, Lorna.” He pointed and smiled at the younger Roth woman. “Mr. Gregor, would you do the honors?”
“I’ll leave that up to my daughter. Harriet?” looking at his daughter, he had never seen her blush before.
After a very short moment, Harriet pulled herself together, grabbed control and worked through the introductions.
“This is my father, Lawrence Gregor. He is the sole owner of Gregor Enterprises.”
“I understand that he is kind of a rebel when it comes to Federacy control and overreach,” Martha interrupted.
“I prefer entrepreneurial libertarian, Mrs. Roth.”
“Please call me Martha.”
Glancing at the man under discussion, “Well, my father does like to follow intent rather than letter, when it comes to legal decisions.” Harriet smiled as she said this. “Continuing, Shelley Moreno. He’s my uncle and the governor of Latinia.”
“We’ve had contact but I never met the man. Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Moreno.”
“Just Shelley, Martha. Your beef shipments are the finest in the sector. Thank you for selling, at decent rates I might add, to this humble businessman.” He held out his hand and Martha gave it a country-girl shake.
Pointing to each in turn, “Sean
Miller, chief executive and Father’s right hand man. Jeff Chandler, my and Father’s Personal assistant. Patricia Grey, our Information Manager. Donald Thomas is in charge of all Production within our corporation,” with a small smile, “both on and off the books. The same is true for Anthony Blandini, except he runs our warehouses and inventory. Our pilot is Jean Forsythe. She is currently manning our personal ship, Halcyon. She also commands our fleet of mercantile ships.”
“I’m sure that I won’t remember all of those names, so just bear with an old woman, Ok? Now, let’s eat! Lorna, quit hovering and mingle with our guests.”
Everyone shuffled around, finding seats at the table. Somehow Harriet ended up sitting next to Randy. Martha tossed a side nod at those two and looked at Lawrence. He shrugged and raised a brow. The rest of the evening was spent consuming excellent food, fine drinks and witty, entertaining small talk. Later in the evening, Kevin returned, strode onto the terrace, kissed his wife and found a spot. He smoothly fit in and the evening continued. All too soon it came to an end.
“Lorna,” his father called. “Your mother is fading fast. Why don’t you help her to bed.”
“Nonsense, Dear. I’m good to go.”
“That’s alright, Martha. We should call it a night, anyway,” Gregor interjected. “We need to get back to the hotel and get ready for tomorrow.”
“Well, ok. Come on Lorna. Let’s leave them to their business.”
The two Roth women rose and paid their ‘good nights’.
“You set a good table, Martha,” Shelley complimented.
“Why, thank you, Governor.”
“And the company was good, too.”
“Well, good night, everyone. Lorna, let’s go.” With that Martha led her daughter from the room and off to sleep.
“You’re a lucky man, Kevin,” Gregor complimented. “You’ve made a fine home and family.”
“Judging by that fine daughter of your own, you haven’t done so badly yourself.”
With both seniors looking at Harriet, she blushed.
“I just hope that we can succeed in protecting us and ours from the coming threat.”
“Now, Lawrence, that’s no way to end an evening. We’ll hash that all out tomorrow. Randy, you up to giving this fine group a ride home?”
“I figured you’d dump that on me,” Randy chuckled. “That’s why I didn’t put away too much of my favorite bourbon. Yup. Good to go. Shall we?”
As in all wealthy homes, no one helped to clean up. Everyone left everything as is, stood and meandered out to the waiting van. Kevin shook hands all around, waited for the group to pile in and headed back inside. He did notice that Harriet found herself in the front passenger seat, next to Randy. “Maybe, finally, my boy has met his match.” He thought as he continued up the stairs and to his wife.
As happens in many rides home after a night filled with food, drink and company, silence reigned. Everyone variously sat in quiet thoughts, nodded off or stared out, at the star-bathed landscape. For an hour and a half the peaceful companionship of the Gregor group enfolded a new member, Randy Roth.
Not having closed up, yet, Shar hadn’t locked the doors to her bar. Everyone sleepily climbed out and headed in, relieved to finally reach their beds. Harriet hung back. Lawrence noticed.
“Thank you for driving us home. I hope it wasn’t a bother.”
“Not at all, Harriet. The pleasure’s all mine.”
Chemistry, sparks, pheromones. When they ignite too soon, awkwardness follows. The two stood on the porch of Shar’s Place, shuffled nervously and finally said their good nights. Randy leaned down. Harriet raised her head. He gave her a quick kiss on her lips, rubbed her upper arm and nodded. Then he turned, climbed back into his van and headed off into the dark, towards the Roth homestead.
Harriet stood frozen, almost shocked by the electricity that jumped between her and the Roth man during that one short peck. She watched the van drive away, turned and headed up to her room.
boarding the Mortek Derelict
The Federacy breaching craft is probably one of the ugliest that ever came off of the Federacy assembly line. The builders constructed a twenty-meter cylinder with a diameter large enough for a fully equipped, hard-suited boarding patrol to stand, with room to spare. They bolted and welded an oversized jet engine, fuel tanks and accompanying electronics to its stern. The bow was anything but. It looked like someone had put a grinder to it and ground it down until it was perfectly flat. The resultant flat surface comprised an air-tight iris and a circular band saw with teeth made of reidite, a metal almost as hard as diamonds. Looking nose on, the breacher’s forefront resembled the open mouth of a great white shark. Retractable explosive clamps and automated sealers surrounded the whole breaching mechanism. On the top front third of the cylinder squatted the cockpit and control electronics. The builders had sunk an oversized hatch on the top, just in front of the engines. When another craft connected, the breacher became a causeway, allowing a steady stream of troops and equipment easy access to whatever was being boarded. With pre-configured connects up and down its length, rows of positioning jets bristled like spikes on a cactus. And the marines, to a man and woman, loved this homage to ugliness. This particular breacher, currently motoring towards the Mortek derelict, carried the name of the Limpet.
“Ten minutes to contact,” announced First Lieutenant Tillerson, pilot of the breacher ship.”
“You heard the lady,” bellowed Sergeant Nelson. “Final check. Check your buddy. Keep it tight.”
“Three minutes to contact.”
With the announcement, the eighteen-man unit shot to its feet in unison, and ran through the well-rehearsed preparations. “Be alert! No grab-ass! This is the real thing.”
The Limpet slammed into the drifting derelict. Before it could recoil, it fired its eight reidite-tipped anchor bolts into the alien ship’s hull. Cables pulled the breaching port flush. The automatic sealers kicked in, spraying instant-hardening foam that insured the air-tight contact held. The co-pilot, Second Lieutenant Brenner, fired up the huge circular band saw and monitored its progress as it began spinning and sliding forward. Once it attained contact and began grinding away at the alien vessel, a violent vibration shook through the breacher ship, causing the armored marines to sway, straining their magnetic boots to the limit. One lance corporal did come loose, the lack of gravity threatening him with floating helplessly, out of formation. A hand shot out, grabbed his weapons harness and pulled him back down to the deck, where his mag boots once again found traction.
“Thanks, Jonesy.”
“No problem, Smitty.”
“Tighten it up, people, Get frosty. First squad, two-by-two. Secure the breach head!”
“Aye, aye, Master Sergeant!” Six voices shouted in unison. Six lance corporals performed a military turn, three right, three left, and faced the now-closed iris. Lifting their weapons to ready position, they squatted down into leaping position.
“Second squad, ready the battery!”
“Aye, aye, Master Sergeant!”
The six members of Second Squad performed their military turn, reached down and grabbed the handles of the solid metal battering ram.
“Breach achieved. Permission to open iris, Sergeant Major.”
Sergeant Nelson inspected his troops, saw their readiness and responded, “Permission granted, Lieutenant Brenner.”
“Acknowledge permission granted to open iris. Opening iris.”
Like the dilation of an eye, the iris rotated open exposing a portion of the alien hull. “Second squad, breach!”
Second Squad charged between First squad towards the alien ship. One stride from the barrier, in unison, the squad swung the ram forward, smashing into the now-severed hull plate. With a resounding gong, ram struck metal. The oval section crashed inward, clattering across the causeway and ringing off of the opposite bulkhead. Without gravity, the severed piece floated where it lost its inertia, slowly rotating. Second Squad hastily retreate
d, giving First Squad free access to the now vulnerable alien derelict.
The two best shooters of First Squad held the two first positions. They launched, parallel with the target deck, tucked their knees and, after clearing the opening, straightened their legs, slamming their mag boots onto the alien deck. With firm connections they squatted back down, using their laser rifles as pointers, Smitty scanning the left passageway, Garcia scanning the right. Bright red dots danced around the bulkhead, roaming right, left, up down. In the middle of their scans two more troopers dove through, anchored and took the high points, scanning over the tops of the first two, adding their red targeting dots to the dance. When Smitty scanned left, Taylor scanned right. When Garcia scanned right, Jonesy scanned left. No activity appeared. As they had practiced thousands of times, Smitty and Garcia simultaneously sprang to forward bulkheads. Taylor and Jonesy followed suit, pressing against the bulkheads across from the two leaders. As that occurred, the last two members of First Squad, Moore and Harris, shot through the opening, tucked, reached and pulled themselves into shooting positions.
Two three-person teams ranged both directions of the throughway. In sequence, six shouts of “Clear” rang back into the breacher. Hearing this, Master Sergeant Nelson stepped through, verified the situation and saw closed hatches at each end of the corridor. “First Squad, secure those hatches. Second Squad, back up. Third Squad, demo sweep and inspect the hatches. Now People!”
The two teams of First Squad raced to their perspective hatches and took up shooting positions. Second Squad poured in and established rear-guard backup. Third Squad came in slower, carrying the demolition and analysis equipment. Corpsman Stevens carried the patrol’s medical gear. Radioman Davis hung back, staying close to the Master Sergeant.
Master Sergeant Nelson stood in the center of it all. With his back to the jaws of the breacher ship, he intently watched his team and was proud of what he saw. Two fire teams of three targeted their perspective hatches. Two fire teams of three backed them up, constantly scanning both towards the hatches and back down the corridors towards the breach in the alien ship.
Waking in the Stars (Marston Chronicles Book 2) Page 10
