by Jim Rudnick
As soon as he finished the drink in his hand ... or ... or maybe as soon as the bottle was gone, he'd need to look into this.
As he dropped off to sleep, he thought that his lieutenant sure had grown in the past year.
#
On Throth, the small squad of EliteGuards was standing at ease just at the far left-hand side of the small tarmac landing pad. The Barony destroyer, the Compass, was in final landing mode just a few hundred feet up and sinking slowly. Carrying the leader of the Barony realm, the Baroness herself, they were more of a ceremonial guard than anything else. Around the small tarmac, a huge construction site was rising from the previously underutilized research station. Huge walls were already erect on what would become the hospital. The shopping and commercial spaces had been fully roofed, and tradesmen bustled about all over. Over on the far side of the landing pad, trucks were being offloaded from Barony trade ships and were being shuttled out of the way as their numbers increased. Everywhere you looked, the din and dust swirled as the thousands of tradesmen, workers, laborers, crewmen and their equipment, trucks and heavy machinery roared and rumbled as the new city was being built in record time.
As the Compass touched down twenty minutes later, the EliteGuard squad leader called them to attention. The landing walkway unspooled from the hull, and moments later, the Baroness came steaming down the escalator stepping quickly to leave her own personal guards well behind.
Dressed in what might only be called equestrian fashion, her boots rung on the old macadam tarmac as she ignored the squad of EliteGuards who presented arms. She moved directly to the setup of tables and chairs in the awning covered meeting area. Just outside the construction office trailers, the meeting area had been well laid out with posh furnishings suited for the outdoors. Folding chairs coupled with side tabling and hassocks had been put in place, as well as full carpeting in the whole area and fans to blow cooling breezes. Someone had also thought to setup a screen of white noise amplifiers to help diminish the construction, din but they were failing miserably. Everyone noticed including, of course, the Baroness.
"Well, at least if we yell, we'll be able to communicate. So ... onward," she said.
"Chief Engineer, pleased to actually meet you in person finally," the Baroness said shortly and sat in the main chair that commanded the whole large table area. Around her, a swarm of stewards from the ship finally caught up and began to lay out refreshments, food trays, and writing tools. Their bustle almost drowned out the pleasantries of the whole group introductions but not the heavy equipment throttling just outside the meeting area. Soon, all was laid out and settled, and the Baroness rapped the table in front of her with a spoon to start the meeting. She tilted her head over to one side as she stared directly at the chief engineer, who rose on steady legs to face her.
"I know that I am the Barony to one and all," she said "but in this case, our chief engineer will lead the meeting which I've been told outlines our plans for our new alien immigrants and what we're going to be doing for them. Please, Chief, go ahead," she added as she sipped the fizzy drink and searched on the fruit platter for a choice slice of something. She was busy and paid no attention to anyone else and the meeting began.
After outlining the various items that the Barony was going to add to enlarge this research station, to make it a real live landing port that could support the planet's new immigrants, the chief engineer stopped and looked at the Baroness.
She simply waved him on as she fingered through a plate of dates and figs wrapped with some kind of cheese and he continued.
"Ma’am, we have planned to house all the aliens here as per your directions, and we will, yes, enlarge the whole port to include normal trade, hospitalization, commercial districts, educational too, Ma’am," he read from his report.
He unfurled a large set of blueprints but was waved off by the Baroness.
"Yes, yes, Chief. We don't need to actually see the plans, now do we?" she said a bit shortly, and he quickly furled the large pages back into their tubes.
"Ma’am, yes, Ma’am. We also have brought from two of the other continents other game as per your suggestion. While neither is much taller than say two meters, the, the—well, what I'd call 'lizards' are pack animals we've learned, and in large enough numbers, they appear to be able to hunt down most anything. Ma’am"
"Ahh ... nice touch, Chief. Let's let the new inhabitants of Throth learn that the planet can fight back too ..." She nodded and everyone else at the table did too.
"As well, Ma’am, we've also put in that full diagnostic lab as per the medical team on this build, and it has the best possible equipment and latest robo-technology too. Our plans further, as per the medical team requirements, include implementation of a small but powerful vaccine manufacturing facility alongside same."
The Baroness nodded. "We hopefully will be making good use of that in the future," she said, "but let's get to the real crux of the construction, shall we? What about your cost projections—actual versus projected. That's what I want to know and now!" she said, and each word was punctuated by the whacking of that spoon on the table.
The chief engineer looked directly across the table from where he was still standing at the trio of accountants that sat there, and he indicated that the meeting was now theirs. One of them, the tall Quaran one, stood and braced herself on her hands and then gathered up some paperwork.
"Ma’am ... sorry, uh, . Ma’am, we're in the process of still assembling the latest cost reports from some of the trades, so at this point—"
The Baroness cut her off with a sharp rap of that spoon on the table again. "Don't care for the latest reports—tell me what you have so far ... say to the closest million credits. Do it now," she added the spoon rap-a-tapping, as she seemed to wince at the upcoming numbers.
The Quaran dived into that stack of papers. As she searched the pile, she thumbed through the remaining heap on her left. She appeared to check, then double-check, and then cross-reference the data twice.
She half-smiled up at her Baroness and cleared her throat.
"Ma’am, projected costs are in line—we're about 1.72 percent above at this point, but that's well within the margin of error for the whole project. Costs if managed well will still be in line with our initial extrapolations—we're okay, Ma’am," she said and then sat suddenly. The happiness in her voice was visible, as she seemed to sink into her chair in relief.
The Baroness toyed with her spoon, seeming to digest the information and then she nodded to the table.
"Fine. We're good then. Hopefully there might be no more surprises—costs while within what we planned are still astronomical, and we must ride herd on same. Throth cannot turn into a money pit for us ... even though the upside could prove more than anyone—any race—could ask. Good," she said and then looked over at the chief once more.
"As these aliens are nomadic in nature, we expect that for the most part we will see them get here, get some kind of 'indoctrination,' and then leave the landing port—say, do we have a name as yet for this, this capital city we're building them?"
There was a scurry halfway down the table, and then a small voice spoke up from one of the other construction crew team members, and a short man rose to speak.
"Ma’am ... Baroness, we've been in touch with our Xenoarchaeology experts on the Gibraltar, and they have determined via delving into the aliens’ history and language a short list of possible names for the new capital, which they have sent to us.
The Baroness nodded and curled her fingers to indicate she wanted to know.
"Ma’am, our recommendation is to try to capture the whole 'new birth' of the planet to the aliens, so we would like to name the capital Odonje—which translates as best we can figure out as 'birth,' Ma’am."
The Baroness tilted her head to one side and said Odonje over and over a few times.
"That's it," she said, "the name of the capital of Throth is Odonje."
The Baroness rose and looked around as the
table fell silent.
"Good work, Chief Engineer," she said, "let's get the timing here re-estimated and have that back to me by day’s end along with the latest financials too, mind you," she said as she stared down the table to the Quaran team.
"I will be leaving by say 1900 hours so let's not dilly-dally. Dismissed," she offered as she turned her back and sauntered off toward the landing ramp to rise up back into the Compass, her attendants and stewards all busy gathering up the meeting detritus as quickly as possible.
#
On the shuttle from the Marwick heading to the Sterling to meet with the Lady St. August, the argument between Lieutenant Commander Templeton, the Marwick's XO, and Lieutenant Sander was in full swing—and it was loud.
"Sir, with all due respect, we cannot tell the Lady St. August that we know that a Sleeper will be abducted—we do not know that she knows that this will happen—whenever it happens." Bram wasn't able as the junior officer on the shuttle to wag his finger in his superior's face, but the tone of his rant did that for him.
As the XO prepared to jump in at the end of the younger officer's speech with his own retort, Tanner held up his hand.
"Unless, telling her would be the impetus for her to do just that ... i.e., she had no idea that this might be a tactic, ‘til we accuse her," he said and then looked at the two of them with his hands held up and open.
"Sir, the Master Adept said ... well, thought really ... that the abduction would happen, so us confronting the Lady is not the cause of the kidnapping. That is for sure, Sir ..." Bram said his voice steady and his look reliable.
Craig nodded and looked to the captain across the pilot's seat on the shuttle.
"Sir, no matter what you say, she's going to be pissed at you—at us—and the RIM Navy too, Sir. Why they think they need a Sleeper is beyond me, but the kidnapping of anyone is a crime, Sir. So that's the tack I'd take, Sir," he finished up as his attention turned back to the quickly upcoming port side landing bay on the Sterling. His able hands on the stick got the shuttle yawing to starboard, and then they sliced through the force field to enter the bay and plant themselves on the decking inside.
While the XO shut down the shuttle, Tanner and Bram stood to disembark, and soon they were tramping down the landing ramp and onto the landing bay floor. Met by the EliteGuard with a Provost Guard in charge of the squad, they were escorted to the lift and up into the frigate. Moments later on Deck Fourteen, they were guided down to a small conference room on the outer fringe of the deck; inside at a table sat the Lady St. August with a pair of EliteGuards behind her. The full wall of view-port windows showed the alien ship in all its huge size and glory. Beside her sat her Issian advisor who nodded to Bram and said nothing at all. Tanner did not know
The Lady St. August toyed with a cup of some kind of beverage, but the visitors were not offered anything; the two stewards were frozen over in the aft part of the room didn't move to serve them. The three from the Marwick took seats opposite the Lady and waited ... one always waited for Royalty, they all knew.
The Lady took a sip of her drink, looked at Tanner, and said one word only,"Captain?" and waited.
Tanner took a moment to compose his thoughts and then said in what he hoped was a deferential tone and demeanor. "Ma’am, we come to see you today with what we feel is ... is something disturbing, Ma’am." He looked directly into those china blue eyes that almost seemed to sparkle. Royal, he thought. Be a diplomat, the Admiral had said. A crime is what I'm about to lay at her feet; a Royals feet ... and he unconsciously shook his head negatively.
The Lady looked halfway to her right, to her Issian who was obviously an Adept even though not wearing a Barony Navy uniform, as if she was trying to communicate silently, but Tanner knew that an Issian could often "read" minds but humans could not.
"Gillian—gentlemen, this is my Issian advisor, Gillian Krar, and yes, she like mostly all Issians can often be counted on to find the truth in what is said. So please be forewarned, Captain ... you were saying?" She faced him fully again, and he noticed that one sleek finger stroked her bracelet—a stunning carnelian magenta-stoned platinum linked piece of jewelry from Elbo, he thought and then looked back again into those eyes.
"Ma’am, what we are here to help pass along and to determine if it might be true, Ma’am, is what we have learned from the Master Adept through our lieutenant here, via what is called a 'mind-link,' Ma’am."
The Lady St. August slapped the table in front of her.
"Clear the room. Everyone except the captain ... now!" she barked, and the stewards and Gillian rose as one. The EliteGuards, who stopped only to let the lieutenant and the XO file into the line, followed them, and they closed the doors behind them. For a second, Tanner wondered if the Lady felt safe outside of their sight, and then he remembered that automatic AI weapons were probably in every nook and cranny in the conference room, which was also probably being recorded by cameras monitored by more Provost Guards too. Royals need to feel safe ...sigh ... he thought, and he knew the Navy issue sidearm on his hip was not a threat.
"Captain, speak plainly to me—but a reminder that the Issian ability to do the 'mind-link' is something that is unknown by most and certainly by our service staff and guards. Do not ever mention that again in my hearing and theirs. You will obey me, Captain," she said, her eyes fervent and boring into his own.
"Ma’am, sorry, I had no idea that the Barony would try to keep this ... this ability private, Ma’am. In the rest of the RIM, Ma’am, it is not only normal to know about same but generally denied by most Issians. Ma’am," he said and looked down at his hands clasped together like a young child. "In any event, Ma’am, it's the message that we received that is the issue, Ma’am—"
The Lady cut him off with a palm held up to his face.
"Do not ever correct me, Captain ... I'm the one here who has Royal blood. I'm the one here who is in charge of the Ikarian aliens and their acceptance of Throth as their new home world, and I'm the one who tells you what the issue is—got it, Captain?" she finished off, pointing directly at Tanner, her jade green nail aimed at his chest, her bracelet jangling against itself.
Nodding at her and still nodding, he held up his hand open-faced pointing at the ceiling of the room.
"No ... sorry, Ma’am, I meant no disrespect. All I meant was that we had received word, Ma’am, that there was going to be a ... a ... a major crime will be committed, Ma’am," and he shut up for what he figured would be Royal temper tantrum number two.
The Lady toyed with her cup in its saucer and slowly spun the cup by its rim. She pursed her full lips and then shook her head eventually and looked up at Tanner.
"Explain, please, Captain, but let me assure you—I have no intention of breaking any of the laws out here on the RIM—not a single blessed one. Though as a Royal with the Barony having a full seat on the RIM Council, I should think that any action I would take, could take, would be handled way above your pay grade, Captain." She tossed her long blonde hair and looked away then back at him with full intensity. And she waited.
Tanner forged on.
"Lady, we have learned that sometime in the future, the near future we are told, that scientists—Barony scientists—will abduct an Ikarian Sleeper. Ma’am, they will surreptitiously open a Sleeper tank and steal the child within and bring it back to the Gibraltar, Ma’am. And that in anyone's realm is illegal. Ma’am," he said. His tone was deferential but he thought he'd made his point.
The Lady still twirled the cup on its saucer watching the dregs in the cup swirl, as though she took her time and thought before answering.
And she did, taking a full five minutes before she looked up at him again.
"Captain, what you say the Master Adept has shown you may very well be what you say. But what I can add is that this will not happen. Ever. The Barony is the new realm for the Ikarians, not their new 'jailers,' so while this abduction might have happened, I will instruct my Provost Guards to keep a heavy security on the Kes
howse and to never allow this to happen. Please relay that back to your admiral as I will back to my Baroness."
She stopped the cup twirling and then stood on her side of the table to face him.
"Captain, it is no secret to anyone that I despise you—you are a drunk who should be in the brig rather than in a starship captain’s chair. But in this single instance, I will be giving you the benefit of the doubt, Captain Scott. The abduction will not happen on my watch, Sir."
She turned away from him, walked to the door, and opened it to leave the conference room, and he was alone.
He looked over at the wall of windows and at the Keshowse and wondered what would rule ... the Lady's promise or the Master Adept's vision. He sighed, wanting a Scotch to help him figure it all out.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Up two rows, on Gamma Row, the scientists were gathered in a knot around the stairs arguing loudly. One of them, a smaller young man with the traditional white lab coat and glasses, suddenly started shouting loudly. He moved around one of the older white coats and jammed his face in the face of the Provost Guard who appeared to not even be a part of the argument, and then he punched the Provost right in the stomach. Caught unawares, the soldier doubled over and then all of the scientists were involved. Some held others and some grabbed others in headlocks—the brouhaha was on, and the sound level carried throughout the five huge rows of Sleepers drawing Ikarians from all over.
They spilled down and up the stairs at once, trying to help, trying to instill some degree of calmness, of rectifying the major fracas in their midst.
One Provost did a head count and waited as a few more Ikarians came down from the offices up top. He clicked the key on his PDA on his wrist and sent the simple message "done" and then moved in to help quell the to do,
Down on Epsilon Row, almost 700 feet toward the rear, that message came to the PDA of the Provost Marshall. He moved away from the end of the last Sleeper tank in Epsilon Row and then turned to face the doorway behind him. Motioning to the plate glass window in the door took only a moment, and seconds later, the door opened and in came three scientists pushing a cart that was mounded with equipment.
