Polished

by P. S. Power

  Not that it excused using poor skills and discipline, since they couldn’t have known they were going to be captured so easily.

  They still did it, taking drugs and drinking the Dutch courage, not believing they had the will to do it, otherwise.

  As soon as they were back to the camp site, they settled the fellow carefully on the ground. A full third of the people were standing around an older man who was sitting on the dirt as well, off to the side slightly, clutching a talisman that glowed green on the front.

  Lydia and Clemance both scurried over to the new friend that had been found in the woods, Clem holding a set of chains, which were put on the wrists and ankles of the fellow that he and Dareg had recovered. There were some hard looks from the younger man as he worked, though it didn't come with blows or even jerking things around more than was needed in the moment.

  When the job was done, sighing, the kid pressed a green glowing amulet to the side of the mewling man’s neck.

  “Healing amulet. We have them all, now. Embarrassing, letting one get away like that.” It sounded legitimate, as if he was really feeling the error on a personal level.

  Richard patted the kid on the arm and shook his head.

  “That’s reality for you, isn’t it? Always doing things you don’t expect like that. Don’t worry over it, too much. We plan and practice, then work as a crew to cover for things we didn’t have in mind the first time. At any point things can go wrong, always, so we deal with it. You didn’t even do anything wrong, really. There are probably some small things that could be improved, but we’ll go over that later. In case we need that kind of thing later, for a different operation.” His rousing speech didn't really seem to help the fellow feel better, from the look on his face.

  Dareg grinned though and also reached out to pat the other kid.

  “That’s true. It doesn’t hurt that this largely worked. Not, as you noticed, perfectly, perhaps. Still, this is clearly a win for us. Now, you’re up again, aren’t you, Countier Thomson? We need to get everything taken care of. I don’t know where we’re taking them. Off to a prison of some sort?”

  Dare Canton glanced over toward Lydia, since it was her operation to command, but it was King Richard who spoke, his voice deep and serious sounding.

  “We need to take Georges to Count Ward, directly, as a show of good will. Can you get us to Warden in the dark, Countier Thomson?” The man looked grim. As if that kind of thing would be beyond the ability of the youthful pilot they had on their crew.

  The younger man just nodded. It wasn’t even hesitant at all. Just matter of fact as if it really were the kind of thing he was good at. Which, given he was training with Space Fleet in his off times from school, was probably just the truth. In space it was always dark, after all.

  “Directly, Sire. We’ll leave in… Five minutes? If that serves, of course. I need to get set up before we can leave.” There was a small, rather perfunctory seeming bow then. One that the king returned, nearly matching it, for some reason. It was subtle and spoke of something that Rich didn’t really understand. It was the man in charge of the kingdom indicating that suddenly, for some reason, a boy of fourteen was his equal in the world.

  The kid had his ship out efficiently, holding it in his hand, then set up to the side with a tap and made to gently glow in purple and black in half the time stated as being needed for the work. That the black was glowing was fairly interesting to see, though Richard had noticed that kind of effect before, in his own world. Mainly when Prime was about to use his power blasts. It wasn’t a common thing at all, however. It seemed to both reflect light and drink the world at the same time.

  They were loaded up with a few happy waves, the ship made to be bigger somehow than it had been before, though not truly vast. It was about the size of a large bus, when they were all on board the thing. In the front were real seats, though the eight men in the back were in separate little cages with clear fronts. They didn’t seem to be able to get out, for some reason. They were required to ride sitting or at least hunched over in the small boxes.

  They were about four feet high, even if it was kind of clear that the things could have been made to go all the way to the ceiling, if the Captain had wanted it to be done that way. That was twelve feet above them. Richard understood that it was possible, since some handy blue letters came in front of his eyes and explained that the ship itself could have grown to the size of a decent city, holding more people than a lot of places, if it had been desired.

  So the little boxes were built that way as a punishment. Nothing more. It seemed to him that they would have been given a bit more head room if the one man hadn’t managed to get away from a certain boy as well as he had.

  They were up in the air and moving shortly after that. The King himself, sitting directly next to Countess Printer and the old man that they’d recovered, who was upright and strong seeming, even if well wrinkled. The man hadn’t spoken at all, which no one seemed to find all that strange.

  After a moment, a deep voice came from the red-headed giant’s right hand. The words were translated via caption for him again. Cindy making up for his personal lack of language skills. It shouldn’t have been needed, of course. He didn't have three years to learn how to speak clearly at the moment though.

  “King Richard? What may I do for you this evening?” The words were rather polite in tone, holding a hint of bafflement and tension at the same time. In the background there was a female voice. The words, hushed things that were barely audible came to him in a slightly pink color when the translation came. Probably to show that it was a different person being translated. That kind of sorting was actually pretty handy, just to prevent confusion.

  “Ask him if there is any word on Georges… Martha is besides herself…” That person was marked as being Countess Ward, though there was no picture to go with it.

  The King didn't wait on that either, answering the woman instantly.

  “We have him. He’s alive and healed. Beaten and terrorized but otherwise not interfered with, though that seems to have been part of the plan for the night’s entertainment. We took the captors alive for questioning, as well, and have information from Ambassador Mableton as to who is behind the action and why it took place. I’ll share that when we land? We should be there shortly, if that’s allowed, Count Ward?”

  The deep voice, which was even more grumbling than the King’s, if that was possible at all, sounded delighted for some reason. A thing that wasn’t that hard to figure out, if they’d been concerned with their man having been taken, which clearly the people there were.

  “Certainly. This is good news. Most excellent, to be truthful. My people lost all trace of the kidnappers and we feared Georges as being lost for all time. When will you be arriving?”

  Holly looked out the window, her long face looking bemused. It was clear she understood where they were, from the expression on her face. She wasn’t a great beauty, being a little long of face for that. Still, there was a spark to her eyes which was nice to see, Richard had to admit.

  “About now. We’re already settling over your palace, Count Ward. You might want to alert the men that it isn’t an attack, given the events of the day. The purple and black craft. We have… Dignitaries with us. That’s all the warning I can give you at the moment, I think. I don’t know what more I’m allowed to say on the subject. Clearly, you’ll want to act impressed when you see them. Especially given who personally went in to save your mother’s man.”

  There was a pause then. A long one that seemed to drag out far past what could be consider polite.

  “I understand. I’ll be there directly, myself. Allow me…” The man called out then, about incoming guests. Then the device went black.

  It was Clemance who spoke next, in English first, then Standard. There were some similarities between the two languages. Not that Richard could track it all on the fly.

  “We might want to take a few moments before jumping out. Things have to be
tense on the ground here. Even if the events of the day started at the Dowager estate. The guards might feel a need to prove they won’t be easily pushed around in the moment, and who could blame them for it?”

  That fact didn’t prevent several people from running out of the mansion that they were in front of. It wasn’t well lit out front, but there was just enough light, from the glow of the ship, that it was possible to see palm trees around them. Healthy and well cared for ones, at that. From the temperature of the air and humidity, along with how the plants looked, Richard had to figure they were close to Florida, if not well into it. At least it would have been near that location, in his own world.

  He’d lived in that area long enough in his life for it to be familiar to him, even if the venue was slightly different in the moment.

  Tor waited, seeming hesitant enough about getting off the flying bus they were on, not moving until after Timon did it. The younger brother spoke to them all, though it had to be translated again.

  “That should work to set everyone at their ease. As well as we can for the time being. Everyone move slowly anyway. No need to push anyone into an error here, since we have unlimited time to get this done. We need to send Georges out first, so he can collect his hugs and cuddles. Otherwise we’ll probably be knocked to the ground in the rush to get to him.”

  The silent man got up and moved down the aisle between the seats at a good pace. Eager to see his friends, it seemed. He moved well, not like he was old at all. Richard was well aware of how older people moved, having lived it himself for a long time. Things hurt and ached constantly past a certain age. This man, for some reason, wasn’t dealing with that at all. He didn't seem muscular or robust, really. Just healthy. Like a much younger man might be.

  Everyone got up, though who was going first, second and third had to be chosen fairly carefully, it seemed. Cindy moved in along side of him and actually spoke the words for him, instead of showing letters that overlaid on his vision.

  The attractive blonde woman put her hand on his arm.

  “Georges has to go first, to prove this isn’t a trick. Then we need to put someone in front of the King, as a guard. There has been some bad blood between the Wards and King Cordes, even if they aren’t planning anything negative here at all. They didn’t have time enough to plot anything, and probably wouldn’t even if they could… Still, we need to be careful that way. Then the King and Countess Printer need to go next. We can’t have the Countess’s guards right behind her though, with the King right there. That would make him look like a prisoner, which might have the Wards fighting her suddenly, to prove they back the King, which they’re sworn to do. The real guards will need to pull up the back, so we aren’t sending the wrong message here.”

  He looked around for a moment, then nodded.

  “Let’s… How about we get Baron Havar and Dareg Canton going first, as guards, with the King and Countess next, followed by Tiera and… you? Then the rest of us will fill in with the guards taking up the rear. Though someone should hang out here to watch the people we took.”

  That meant two of the rust red and gray clad women being sent out behind them, with the other men and women staying on the ship, to watch the prisoners.

  No one screamed at his idea of who should go first or why, though he did get some rather strange looks over it. After a moment, as they walked out, letters came again, explaining things for him so he’d be in the loop.

  The gist of it seemed to be that the King simply didn’t show up without his own Royal Guard like they were doing. There was absolutely no protocol at all for what was taking place, so it seemed incredibly strange to everyone involved. Then, placing the former Queen of the Moon behind the fellow would seem like he didn't have anyone at his back at all. That or Lydia, the rather tiny line walker, was being set guarding both of them.

  Since the people in Ward didn’t understand what was going on, the Count nearly froze, then started to wave his own guards away, rather hastily, in case it was going to seem like he was being hostile. At the very same time, a rather tall, stately woman with black hair and dark skin moved in to hug Georges. It was held for a long time. She did it fast enough that Timon’s idea, that they might have been knocked down if they were in the way, seemed to be carrying some weight.

  It was good to see, actually

  Her words were contrite, not just excited, however.

  “I’m so sorry! I couldn’t stop them…” The woman seemed rather distressed by the idea. She was joined in her embrace by a smaller, but still nicely tall, attractive blonde lady. Behind them stood the Count, and a more youthful dark-haired woman and a slightly lighter man who looked a bit goofy, having nicely large ears and a strong face. It took Richard a moment to understand that the eight-foot-tall giant man standing there was clearly Tobin Peterson. Only, of course, not that man at all.

  They all bowed, which meant their entire line of people, who had come out two by two, did it back. Even the King did his part, matching the rest of them, more or less. It was the dark-skinned cute woman in the back who said something. In Standard.

  “We should get inside? You have prisoners on the transport?”

  Richard spoke, since that sounded like the kind of thing that underlings were supposed to take care of. If that wasn’t his place for the evening, then he didn’t know it at all.

  “That’s right. We have three of Countess Printers finest guards watching them right now. Eight prisoners in all. They need to be questioned, but I believe we have information for you and your people… Conserina Ward.” He bowed toward her specifically, which meant that she did it back, going only about a quarter of the way down. Then she went wide eyed, her face lighting up.

  She was speaking in Standard, and he in English, but it seemed she was getting a translation as well. It really was handy.

  “Brother, we should send the eight prisoners to the local jail. We will have most of their information already, thanks to Ambassador Mableton being involved in this already.” That got a bow in Cindy’s direction, which had everyone doing it again. Then the Count led them all inside, himself. That wasn’t normal, apparently.

  The King was there, however and it was a sudden thing. Interestingly, Cindy spoke to him, softly as they moved.

  “This one is fun. The only thing that makes any sense here is that we came for an orgy. I mean, they know that it isn’t that, but there just isn’t anything like this at all in their protocols other than a clandestine meeting for sex. I call Count Ward, if we end up doing anything like that.” She sounded glib about it. It was cutely done and in English.

  Rich looked at the others and smiled.

  “I’ll call the Dowager, then? She’s attractive and seems like a good person.” She was also the only woman there who didn’t seem like a child to him. They were close to Conserina Ward and the man next to her, who both smiled suddenly, meaning they were getting what he’d just said.

  Neither of them commented on it, directly. Instead the younger, dark skinned and haired lady moved in to give Georges a hug as they all walked. They didn't stop until they were inside, in a large room that held seating for all of them. The guards stood directly behind Holly, with Dareg and Ruel moving to do the same behind the King. Interestingly, the rest of them were allowed to sit, with Tor Baker ending up directly next to Rich.

  The great looking tall man, who wasn’t that big for the room, spoke, looking directly at Count Ward. There was meaning in the look. The kind of thing that commanded attention, while also expressing humor, in a fashion that didn't show as a smile at all.

  “The King and Countess Printer, along with Ambassador Mableton and her people went into rescue Georges. Themselves. They didn’t send guards or hired men for it. They did the work on their own, with their own hands.”

  That got a sudden, rather shocked look, then a quarter of the room stood and tried to bow toward the others. They all stood then, and bowed back, in the main. The people spoken about got to sit first this time, however
that worked.

  Richard simply did his part, not speaking, for the time being. That seemed to be the safest option, given that the only things he could think to say at the moment were feeble attempts at jokes to lighten the mood.

  Chapter five

  As it turned out, they didn’t have to have an orgy at all that night. They were, apparently, required to attend a meal there, with the Wards. That was a fine and well-presented affair, which was something of a celebration, given that Georges was back and relatively unharmed. Not that being kidnapped wasn’t going to have an effect on his mind, later.

  No one spoke on that topic, but it was clear that it was going to be hard for anyone to feel safe for a long time after that kind of ordeal. Making sure he had a good shield and possibly weapons would be important. If he were a woman, they could have provided guards to him. As a man, he’d need to be able to fight for himself. Having failed once already, he’d be worried that he was lacking in some way. Even if no one in the world would have expected an unarmed man to fight off eight trained fighters.

  At least Rich knew that he’d have felt that way if it had been him in that position. Thankfully they’d gotten there before the man had been raped. He had no clue what to do for a man that had happened to. A woman, either, come to that. He’d known people it had happened too, being old like he was. Most of them just didn't speak on the subject much. It wasn’t useful to them, but had made it easier for him to deal with them, not having to hear about it much.