by Jim Rudnick
The captain made up two big mugs of coffee and added the sugars and creams and dropped on on the arm of the Adept chair that the Admiral was sitting in.
“Do you know, captain, why I picked you and the Exeter, for this little visit to Branton?”
“Because we took it on ourselves a few weeks back to make the trip to test the Barony Drive—but not over ten or fifty lights, but more than a thousand, Sir?” he replied and his voice did sound questioning.
“That—which is why you then got the duty of the full Barony Drive testing up to what, 10,000 lights, correct?” he asked but he knew the answer of course.
“And your report was pretty good, full of lots of what I would call ‘added back story’ and I appreciate that always. Well, the Exec Summary up front should always be tight and on point, which is a habit you’ve learned somewhere. Admirals get hundreds of reports weekly so concise is a word I like,” Tanner said as he kept one eye on the ship’s bridge view-screen.
The Exeter was moving down, on her tail, engines ablaze as they slowly dropped over the lit up boundaries of landing pad #43. As he watched, he noted that there seemed to be a waiting group on the pad beside #43—probably the Earldom’s Customs and Health bureaucrats.
He smiled. In his day, more than twenty-two years ago, there had been yes, the same bureaucrats but only one ever walked out to the pad—mostly, they just told you where the Customs trailer was and to get there soon after a visitor landed.
As they got lower and lower, he could see that on #42 and #44, there were some jeeps lined up too, four on each side. He grinned at the captain who’d also just noticed and said “take #33, right above the assigned pad.”
That would put the Exeter only one landing pad away, but safe from being surrounded soon as they touched down.
He nodded to the captain to indicate that he was in charge and the captain had the helmsman slowly drift off to the top of #43…closer and then closer to #33 itself. He snapped his fingers and the helmsman made the Exeter swing to one side and tilt to port—then as he compensated, he over-compensated and the Exeter swung back to starboard. He was able to use thrusters, to move the ship off being above #43, and the Exeter almost fell onto #33 and their landing tripods took the bigger than normal plunged down on their shocks and yet still stood up.
Moments later as the helm was shutting down the helm and all on the bridge were grinning, the Exeter Ansible officer nodded to the captain and put the incoming message from Branton Landing controls on the bridge speakers.
“You are not allowed to use landing pad #33, please raise your ship and move it to the pad directly to the south of the one you are currently on—”
“That’s not possible as we had a momentary glitch in the helm software—will take about—well we don’t know how long it might take to be able to even get the Exeter to respond. But, we will keep you advised, Landing. Please have your normal Customs officers show up at our landing ramp in about an hour, I’d think,” Magnusson said and then cut off the Ansible.
“Shut down the Ansible as well, and XO let’s put together a shore leave list and take a look at this Branton. Has at least one famous citizen, I’d say,” he said as he looked over at his admiral.
“Not so famous at all, captain…” Tanner said and he left the bridge to go down a whole bunch of decks to his quarters. The Exeter had a single not being used and he grabbed it and really enjoyed the bunk. Single bed. Steel bulkhead walls on three sides. The head was over on one side opposite the door to deck 16, and there was no window of course. But there was a great view-screen that he currently had showing Branton from low orbit.
Astillon, had been his home as he was born there and lived there till he left to go to the Earldom’s Naval Academy right after his schooling was over. He had earned a scholarship to the Academy and he’d been able to attend because of that reason only. He knew that this trip was to Branton, but he did think that maybe one day, he could come calling on the Earl himself—after all he was going to be married to a Baroness in a few months.
That made him smile a bit as he shaved with a depilatory, then took a quick shower, combed his short hair with fingers, changed into a clean and pressed uniform and he looked okay he thought. Admiral-ish, maybe even…
He took the lift down after that to deck one and coming out of the lift he took the circular corridor off to the left to get to the landing port. He was about halfway there, when he heard arguments ahead and he wondered what was up and he walked faster.
Ahead of him there were at least twenty Exeter Provost guards—armed he noted and at the lead was a marine master sergeant.
“Sergeant?” he said and once he was recognized, he shook his head to avoid the sergeant making any kind of a fuss as there was now an admiral on the deck.
“Sir—we’re standing down on this as there appears to be some kind of ‘to-do’ on the landing pad and the XO requested us to just be ready, Sir,” he said and his whole demeanor Tanner thought was one of very much being a capable and efficient soldier.
He nodded and forced his way through the last few guards ahead of him, got to the top of the ramp and then strode down the ramp to what was going on below.
The Exeter captain and his XO were standing on the ramp itself—they’d not even set a foot on Branton at this point. Ahead of them was a squad of Branton marines, it appeared. In front of them, stood a citizen—no uniform so I’d guess he’s a citizen, Tanner said to himself, and he was yelling at captain Magnusson at the top of his voice, pointing at him and shaking a finger over and over.
“You were told to take #43 and yet you took #33—this is a gross breach of landing instructions. As of now,” he said, “your ship is banned from ever setting down on Branton. Today and forever. Lift this tub of shit up and off…” he said, his voice loud and brash and he spit even when he talked.
Tanner walked down the ramp and got in between the yelling Branton citizen and his captain.
He looked at the citizen—up and then down to his shoes and then back up.
“Do you know what rank a naval officer might be, if he has a star on his collar—like these” Tanner said as he pointed at his own collar.
“An admiral, admiral?” he said, “what the hell do I care what rank you are….get off Branton, STAT!” he yelled and this time he shook his finger at Tanner.
Tanner stared at the man for all of a half a minute, then from over his shoulder, he yelled “Provost sergeant, front and center with your men,” and behind him there were suddenly heavy footfalls as their boots tramped down on the steel of the ramp and they took up a position, in a half circle, behind Tanner but before the Exeter crew.
Tanner nodded.
“Provost sergeant-whomever this idiot is—if there is any trouble, you are hereby instructed to take this idiot out. Full clip in the body but save one for between the eyes. Your men will need to show some degree of marksmanship as I do not want the Branton marines killed at all. Shoot low, take out their legs—knees are good targets. Course, they’ll never walk again but that’s not our worry, is it?”
“Sir, yes Sir—provost aim and fire on my command,” the sergeant said and with a snap each of the guards flicked off their safety catches, spread out to aim at the smaller number of marines in front of them and then held position.
The sergeant did the same, pointing his Merkel directly at the angry citizens gut, and then he smiled.
“Just give us the word, Sir…”
“Citizen, get the hell out of our way, we’re from the RIM Confederacy, we are here to visit my home planet Branton, and I was a captain on the Earldom cruiser the Gillmarten years ago, under Admiral McQueen. It was us who took on the Franauts, and won. So your greetings are way the hell wrong…but then you know that. Oh, and the sergeant, if you know how to read ribbons and medals has the gold marksman award. From ten feet away, I’d think you’re about to be a dead man.
It was a standoff, Tanner knew, but he did think that he’d ramped up their chances of winnin
g as the citizen now was frowning as the blood drained out of his face. He fluttered his hands and wiped them over and over on his thighs as he shook his head no over and over.
They all stood there, for another minute more and then the citizen turned slowly to his marines and told them that they could pack up and go back to their barracks. He waved over at what Tanner thought was a small group of bureaucrats and when they got close enough to hear, he said simply “the Exeter will be granted full access to Branton, and your reports will show that. Please get them squared away STAT. Send for the chandlers and get them outfitted too, STAT. I want action here, fellows,” he said and he continued to slowly turn away from the group of Exeter crew and Provost guards. He walked slowly, not hurrying but not slowing down as he went over to a landing pad beside #33 and got into a cart and slowly moved it away from the ship. In seconds he gunned it and was gone.
Captain Magnusson said “nice fellow, will want to keep our eye on that one, I’d say,” he said and he turned to his XO.
“Find out for us—if you can, who the hell that guy is—as much re-con as you can get. The admiral and I are going over to the port admin area and we’ll all be back on-board say for dinner hour. I hear,” he said as he glanced at the admiral, “that we’re having Chicken Kiev tonight, so don’t be late,” and the XO snapped a salute and said “roger, Sir” and went down to speak to the Customs detail.
Tanner smiled. Once they found out who the idiot was, that would be good…maybe they could tell him over at the base admin offices…
#####
Been here, done this…Tanner said to himself and he kept his broaching smile under his palm as he leaned over the table.
The wedding event planner was slowly going through with them the various options that they had to consider, for their honeymoon. As per their instructions, they’d ensured that the wedding, though public was one thing—the honeymoon however was not a public event. It would be just Tanner and Helena and a planet—with no mention of where it might be held at all.
The event planner had offered as she began the presentation this week, with the offers from worlds here on the RIM and some, even Tanner had to admit were tempting. One world, Duos, a world that was at war, offered that if they came to their planet for their honeymoon the war would be put “on hold” while they were there. The event planner said that might mean at least a thousand people would not lose their lives—but they both shook their heads no at that one. Another world, Abstract, offered up one million credits to any charity of their choice, if they’d come to their planet for the honeymoon—but that too, got a no head shake.
There were other offers too, but after two more, Helena held up her hand.
“Stop. We do not want to hear anymore offers. We will take our honeymoon surreptitiously—and no previous leak will be tolerated,” Helena said and she too looked a bit frazzled by these offers.
The event planner, moved to a new section of her book and what she turned to was a blank page. She picked up a stylus and looked at them both, back and forth, and said “so….what are you thinking of? Busy big advanced city with rooftop gardens and pools and robo-flyers, maybe? Or a natural paradise, like say an island on Hope, or a floating houseboat like over on Takan? What are you thinking of generally?” she asked, her stylus poised.
Tanner looked at Helena and said politely, “we want something where we can be a part of background. No Baroness to be and some kind of lord type of fawning sycophants, I would think, right, Helena?”
She grinned at him and nodded.
“Well as that Baroness-to-be, I think that no matter where we go, that will always be in front of us. But, yes, somewhere where we can wear a bathing suit from when we get up to when we go to bed,” she said and she grinned big time to her hubby-to-be!
The event planner was nodding and she leaned down into her bag that sat beside the table in the Baronial Palace and got it out. She typed something, then browsed and then looked at what might have been a calendar, Tanner thought. After five full minutes, she grinned at them both.
“There is a new place, on Bottle—yes, yes I know about the reputation that this planet has due to it’s…uh…it’s plethora of beautiful women with navies all across the RIM. But this new place is on a private island, in the southern hemisphere, just opened up according to this,” she said as she turned the tablet so that they could look at it too, “only a month ago. It is terribly terribly expensive—but we don’t have to worry about costs, now do we?” she asked rhetorically and she slowly scrolled the photos.
It showed water so blue with shades of teal and azure and one could see all the way down to the bottom thirty feet deep. There was a small cottage showing, with a deck that was above the sea level, and it had a porch all the way around it, made of some kind of native wood that was so brown it made you think of milk chocolate. The roof of the cottage was thatched and it only had three walls, the front was wide open to that porch that held a beautiful dipping pool with two chaise lounges and a table that right now held cocktails and some appetizers. Inside, the yellow mosquito netting could protect the guests from any bugs, but the video showed the gentle breezes blowing into the cottage.
“As you can see, it’s all alone—well here, here’s a map” the planner said and click and scroll showed that there were only five of these cottages, each about a hundred yards away from the others in a curved line. There was a canoe moored to each of the five cottages, and off to the center of the lineup of those five, there was a real island, that held a dining hall, services, and a landing pad for flyers too. There was also some music coming from the back end of one of the larger buildings right on the beach and the planner offered that one could dance the night away.
Tanner looked at it, then at Helena, then back at the tablet.
He nodded and lifted an eyebrow, and looked at his bride-to-be.
She smiled and then nodded back and the planner said “good, let me see if I can get you a booking—about how long do you think you might like to be there? And if they’re already booked—supposedly it is very popular but at a price point that keeps out all of the ‘wanna-bee’s’ and she smiled.
Helena laid a hand on the wedding planner’s arm and shook her head.
“No, that is not the kind of PMA to use here. Approach them, ask for details and then get back to us. We will want to stay, I don’t know, say a few months or so. So if there’s a problem, tell them that we will just buy the resort from them and that will be that,” Helena said and Tanner was a bit surprised at that and he guessed it showed on his face.
“Honey—this is how Royals live. We buy what we want or need. No difference here, Tan,” she said and he grinned back at her.
Yes…it was something he’d never been able to even countenance, but in a few months, he’d have to…
A honeymoon lasting a few months…now that’s something that he thought he might like to try…
CHAPTER FOUR
“When you going,” Professor Reynolds asked Cheryl as he passed by her in the dining tent that was pitched outside the wrecked alien ship on Ghayth.
She held up a hand to cover her mouth and continued to chew on her breakfast cereal and tried to look lady-like.
“Today—soon as the shuttle shows up to take me up to the Whitney. Then back to Neres, my meeting there and then a side trip over to Conclusion to work out my schedule for the big conference in the fall and then home,” she said.
He grinned at her as he sat and looked down at his omelet and said “four planets in one day—this Barony Drive is a wonderful thing—but I wonder what it will mean overall for productivity and efficiency?” he said as he buttered a piece of rye bread toast and added a big heaping pile of Garnuthian orange marmalade and smeared it all over the toast. He took a bite and smiled.
“If nothing else, these marines can cook!” he said as he waved over at the cafeteria line and behind same and big cook waved back.
She nodded too but then added “if you eat like that day
after day, Randall, you’ll end up like an Eran,” she said and that got a guffaw from him.
The made work on their breakfasts and in twenty more minutes, Professor Scholes got a tap on the shoulder from someone behind her.
“Professor Scholes, we tried to PDA you—but it’s not on the network? In any event, Mam, the shuttle up to the Whitney is just outside and waiting only for you,” the ensign said and he turned and went out the big dining tent doorway.
“You should get that looked at,” Randall said as he pointed at her wrist and nodded his goodbyes.
She bussed her area, putting the tray in one pile after sliding off all the refuse into the re-cycle bin below. She came back to the table, got her bag and then smiled at her head of the Xeno team.
“See you later—dinner I’d imagine,” she said and she turned and went out the door to see the Whitney shuttle just a hundred feet down the beach. Climbing aboard was not a problem and as she settled into the shuttle seat and did up her seatbelt, she realized that with all the lights she’d be traveling this day, the slowest was the shuttle up to the Whitney.
That got a smile from her and she dug into her bag for her ear buds and placing them inside she hit the pad on her PDA to play her audio book from the saved bookmark and she closed her eyes to listen.
She was a language lover so it was no real surprise that she loved historical fiction. Medieval even, with magic on the side, it didn’t really matter but she often thought that she was born a thousand years past her best before date….
In almost forty minutes, she was sitting on the Whitney, in the visitors lounge, looking out the huge side screens that showed the sparse stars here on the RIM. On the way back she thought that she’d sit on the other side and keep the RIM stars in her view, rather than watch the huge inwards swatch of billions of stars that lay in the galaxy.
