by Jim Rudnick
Then she noted the dates.
“And, I do not remember him being away in the eight years we were together—so this cannot be true,” she stated emphatically. “In fact, we were on a vacation for almost a month during that time—well, just after it, as I remember,” she said.
The dates of the hunt were just before she and the baron had gone to Bottle for a month of downtime, and there was no way he had been gone for eight years at the same time. They’d only been husband and wife for eight years in total.
So… she thought, enough for here and now.
“AI, who am I?” she said. a
The AI chimed once and responded, “Voice certified, you are the Baroness of the Barony.”
She nodded. “Then take this down,” she said, and she half-smiled at her aide. “I want this part of the palace, in its entirety, sealed off from anyone and everyone else. No one is to have access. I am the only one you will allow to enter this area, and you are to notify me—no matter where I am and what I’m doing—about any kind of access entry attempt. No exceptions—Baroness code R-88, please encrypt and seal once we leave.”
She turned to her EliteGuards. “You are now under orders to shoot to kill anyone you find in this area—other than me—should you need to foist off an incursion. You,” she said to Nancy, “are to tell no one, and I mean no one, about this area or what you’ve found. I want you in my sitting room in thirty minutes with a full list of every single person who knows about this. I will decide who will keep this knowledge—and who will not.”
The two EliteGuards snapped to attention and saluted. Nancy blanched, nodded, and nodded even more, scared since what had been found had caused such an issue for her Baroness.
Upon her request, Nancy showed the Baroness how to control the lights and the kiosk tablet too, and moments later, the four of them left the trophy room.
“Access. Is there a secret door somewhere that I can use rather than the one we entered in?” she asked.
Nancy nodded. “Yes, Ma’am, there is behind the flags display in the late baron’s private office. Directly into the trophy room. We came in via what must have been an alternate escape route—and yes, Ma’am, I can have it resealed too.”
The Baroness nodded and said, “Let’s discuss it later when I get that list,” and they all left the area going back the way they had come.
#####
Ambassador Bedre rose to speak to the RIM Confederacy Council, and as he did, he nodded to the aide just behind him. On the huge display panel off to one side of the Council room, a graphic came up of the Duchy d’Avigdor in the form of a star map that was expanded to explain things more easily.
He nodded at the aide and then said in a loud and very polished voice, “My thanks for the opportunity to both attend the Council meeting as the member from the duchy and for the time to make this presentation.” He tapped the tablet in front of him.
A large professional photo of the late duke appeared now at the center of the star map over top of the images behind it.
“The duke—David was his name—was a friend. We met in elementary school over almost eighty years ago, and we have remained friends and close for all those decades. He was a man of really simple tastes, and while a true Royal, he was about as fair and tactful as any head of state might ever be. As you all know, he never married. He never, as he used to say, found love in front of him, and for that, he was always slightly apologetic. What that meant was”—the ambassador clicked on his tablet, and a genealogy tree replaced the late duke’s face—“that as you can see, there really was no true heir for the duchy.”
The tree showed three generations back with only a few branches—all of them ended with no progeny. Even the duke himself, though listed down at the bottom of the family tree, ended with a full stop.
No heirs. No one to take over when he died. No one at all.
“But—and I’ve learned over the years, when there is a ‘but,’ there can often be surprise—there is an answer, or rather two answers. that you all do not yet know, and we will speak on both,” he said as he hit the tablet screen in front of him once more.
The family tree now disappeared and was replaced with a simple statement that read:
Option Number One: That the Temporary Provisional Government of the Duchy d’Avigdor works over a period of a full year and looks into joining a current RIM Confederacy member realm as a subsidiary of same. The choice of whom to consider, what to offer, and the final deal to be developed will be made by the Temporary Provisional Government at their behest.
He looked around the room and nodded before going on. “Yes, that would mean that we—and I am the head of that ‘Temporary Provisional Government’ for the duchy and our six-planet realm—we would put together a short list. We would begin talks with all on that list to eventually reach the best possible deal we can find. And the Duchy d’Avigdor would then fall under that realm’s flag.”
He smiled, looked down for a second, seemingly to consider what he was going to add, and then went on. “Sitting at this table are the five realms we have already approached—” He held up a hand to stop the stirring around the table.
“We will not reveal who any of those five are—and we still have one more to add to that list. These talks will take months and months for us to ‘whittle down’ the list to the eventual partner for the Duchy d’Avigdor. We take this very, very seriously, Council members, and it will be a very diligent and deep process …”
He looked around and the room was spellbound—not a single interruption nor for that matter anyone not paying strict attention.
He smiled once more and clicked the tablet again. The statement on the screen was replaced with a second option that read:
Option Number Two: There is a codicil in the duke’s will, that if completed by the person involved, will make Option #1 moot as there will now be a true heir to the Duchy d’Avigdor.
An immediate uproar in the room ensued.
“What kind of guff is that,” the Eran head of state barked.
“Who says a will cannot bind a realm,” the Madrigal member said dryly.
“I have never heard of this—does that mean there is an heir to the duchy—some kind of a bastard son?” said the Skogg member.
The Skogg member’s question stopped all the talk. Even though not a single word was being said, Chairman Gramsci ensured silence remained by banging down two gavels.
“Yes, Ambassador, that does bring up the question. Is there an heir? And if this heir says ‘yes,’ it appears you mean that the duchy will become led by this person?”
The ambassador just nodded.
“So, is that fully in line with the Duchy d’Avigdor’s constitution—and more importantly, have you thought about asking our own RIM Confederacy governance people about this? I should think that you’d want to know up front that what you have outlined as an option would even be legal?”
The ambassador smiled once more and then combed his white hair back off his brow with a hand. “Chairman Gramsci, yes, we have checked with our own duchy constitutional experts and with other experts on both wills and trusts and such codicils too. All have agreed that this course of action by the late duke is both legal and may be followed by us, the Temporary Provisional Government, too.”
The Baroness leaned forward. “And, do you have a favorite, Ambassador—Option Number One or Option Number Two?”
The ambassador realized this was a loaded question as the five realms that were a part of Option Number One were in front of him, so he just shrugged. “Ma’am, we are following the late duke’s will, and I do not have the right to have a favorite. We will proceed with both of them, and eventually, one will rise to fruition, Ma’am.”
She nodded back to him and leaned back in her chair.
The ambassador wondered if she was satisfied with his answer, but he knew that after more than five decades in the Duchy Diplomatic Corps, he could lie so convincingly that he believed it himself.
The
chairman looked around the room. “Do we have any more questions on the duchy presentation,” he inquired.
Not a word was said, and he sighed and tossed both gavels down onto the table in front of him. “Then I’ll ask it. Who is the heir—or perhaps, the potential heir—Ambassador?”
The ambassador grinned, looked around the room at all the faces that were pointed to him, and spoke quietly. “I am not at liberty to say, but I can tell you, the late duke held this person in the highest regard …” He sat, turning off the display panel, and once again, the room was silent.
As he looked around the room, he could see wheels spinning in brains as they all wondered who the heir might be and what their relationship might be with this unknown new duke.
The Baroness, who was on the Option Number One list, was lost in thought, which he found highly amusing, as the potential heir was her new son-in-law.
The Caliph, also on that list, played with a stylo on his tablet, tapping the point over and over against the screen.
The Prince of Thrones, also on the list, smiled at him directly and tipped his head to one side as if to say ”Nice presentation, Ambassador.” At least that’s what the ambassador thought it might have meant.
The Earl of Merilda wouldn’t even look at him, and though they too were on the Option Number One list, the ambassador had had some misgivings on that proposed amalgamation too.
The head of state for Hope and its three-world realm was absent today, so he had no way to gauge what his Option Number Two surprise might mean to them. But one thing was for sure; they’d know quickly as Ansibles must be ringing all over the RIM with the news and guesses of who the potential heir was.
The final member of that list, so far not even approached, was Genie and the Djan; their leader was in the dark. That name just added to the list had come after months of discussions and research and arguments both for and against. Genie was a realm that was both human and alien, which had been something of a sticking point, but it had finally been decided that Genie was to be approached and asked to start talks too.
He didn’t bother to listen to the clerk who had risen to announce Agenda item number five. He leaned forward to work on his tablet to send Lord Scott an EYES ONLY. He wanted to let the man know that his presentation had just been made to the RIM Confederacy Council. They were now aware that an unknown potential heir was out in the open, but his identity had been kept a secret. He gave Lord Scott a gentle reminder that he had only about eleven months to make up his mind, do his due diligence, so to speak. He attached the short list of the Option Number One list of other realms for Lord Scott’s attention and reminded him that if he chose to follow the duke’s codicil, this would supersede the other realms and Lord Scott would become Duke Scott d’Avigdor …
#####
Tanner leaned forward and spoke directly at Admiral McQueen, his forefinger stabbing down at the desk with each sentence.
“Admiral, yes, I do understand, but you too must see that the RIM Navy can offer little for the admiral to do. Now that the whole new Eons Naval Academy is built, up and running, and done. Higgins was, without a doubt, the best call you’ve ever made—but, Sir, to find him something else to do now is going to be a hard found goal,” he said as his finger stopped in midair.
Admiral McQueen leaned back to noodle that around for a moment and then a moment more.
Tanner knew his argument had made sense. The RIM Confederacy Navy, while small with less than thirty ships, had more admirals than there were real needs for—at least in his mind. Admiral Higgins had nowhere to go, really. The building of the new naval academy was over, and now the man was sitting in his office in Navy Hall on Juno. With nothing to do.
McQueen leaned back over toward the console in the EYES ONLY Ansible call and half-smiled. “I cannot order Admiral Higgins to resign, but what I might be able to do is to talk to him, gauge his interest, and perhaps talk him into a, say, two-year posting with the Barony Navy. He’d still be on our payroll though. Would that work for you, Lord Scott?” he asked.
Tanner shook his head. “Sorry, Admiral, but not a workable solution. We want a real live admiral—one who’s on our payroll and therefore owes us his allegiance. I would suggest that he be perhaps allowed to take a pro-tem retirement—and then join us. Later, say, in those couple of years, he can decide. We need him, Admiral, and in my world, there’s only one better candidate who I doubt would even countenance a move,” he said pointedly.
McQueen nodded, his face a mask. “I hear you, Lord Scott, and I can say, under those conditions, yes, you have my permission to talk to Admiral Higgins. I hope he asks some really tough questions, but I’m also wise enough to know that you have a great candidate—one who will make the Barony Navy proud,” he finished off.
He hadn’t acknowledged that other candidate that Tanner had mentioned, as he well knew he was number one. But he’d never leave the RIM Confederacy Navy.
Tanner spoke up last. “And, Admiral, I see the fourth star has been added to your collar—well done, Sir!” he said as he acknowledged the new rank of full admiral that McQueen had just been given. He, of course, had known for months now that the fourth star was on its way, but it was good to see it in the flesh.
That did get a bit of a flush on the admiral’s cheeks, and he nodded and signed off.
Tanner turned and looked out the Barony Palace windows down at the gardens below. Here, in the new wing of the palace, the palace gardeners still handled the landscaping. Below, in the space where his wedding ceremony had taken place just a few months back, was a huge plain grass field. Around the outside of same was a low, white wall of stones he’d heard were imported from Carnarvon. White was what he’d call them from way up here on the third floor of the residential wing, but he knew that as one got closer, there was a red snake of crystals that ran in every stone. At sunset, he’d often made it a point to look out to see how the stones shone in the dusky sky, as the orange sunlight caught the exact crystal glowing brightly.
At the close end of that field, he could see only the top of the small monument that had been placed at the same location as the wedding ceremony altar had been located. The same Carnarvon marbles were the walkway around the single monolithic block of the same marble, and it had nothing carved on it. There had been, he’d heard later, some talk of what to write and whom to list on the block—so it had been left as a simple large block of the marble.
He stared down at the gardener closest to him who was cutting the short hedge around the block of marble, and he wondered if the area was ever visited by Barony citizens. He’d have to ask.
That question was added to his mental list and replaced the question about the candidate for the new admiral’s job. He’d already made that call to Ethan directly just a few hours ago, and he’d gotten the sense the man was really without purpose. He’d asked him in a circuitous way if he’d entertain a new adventure, which had perked up the man’s ears, and Ethan had grinned and said yes in a hundred ways, without ever vocalizing he was out of sorts with the RIM Navy.
He’d not told McQueen and that he wasn’t proud of. He certainly should have—but he had to know that the candidate would entertain a change before he could ask his mentor, Admiral McQueen, for the leeway to do that. Shouldn’t be hard to hide that fact, and he grinned as he was watching that gardener.
The man had a problem with a patch of the hedge, which it seemed he just couldn’t get to look right, and he stepped back to peer down the long hedge. In front of him, it dipped a bit lower than the areas he’d already cut. He somehow had not been able to keep the top of his trimming on an even keel. While not being a gardener, Tanner thought there was only one way to fix that now—go back and trim the area behind him down to the new level; almost a hundred yards of hedge would need to be redone.
The gardener, however, was not new to his business, and he dropped his laser trimmer onto the turf at his feet, reached into an unseen box of tools, and came up with what looked like some other
kind of laser tool. He bent over and then knelt down at the low spot in front of him. Tanner could see him reaching into the thick hedge foliage with that tool. As he watched, Tanner edged up a bit on his chair to have a better view, and as he did that, the hedge in front of the man was slowly getting a bit taller. “Some tool,” Tanner said to himself, “but I wonder how you’d get branches and stems to lengthen like that with a laser—or some kind of a tool. Must ask.”
He wondered if all Royals did this. And he shrugged. Hardly. He had the curiosity of a naval captain—and even now as Lord Scott, he still couldn’t get rid of that characteristic of himself.
Higgins was in. He had a new Barony Navy fleet admiral, and that made him happy. What that might bring would be more than interesting, but as a Royal, he knew he’d supersede all.
#####
As Ambassador Adam Bedre walked down the final few feet of the long hallway in the ducal palace, he wondered for a second or two, as he always did at this point, what the hell the designer had thought as he’d laid out the plans for this area. Where the public areas of the palace met the residential area should be a very noticeable change, he believed. Doing so would prevent any kind of issues of misunderstanding of where anyone was headed. It would keep the residential area, where the duke lived, private and under wraps, so to speak.
Yet as he walked on the black-and-white tiles, the heels of his boots clicking on the tiles, the next step would see those tiles change to black and red, but other than that, there was no noticeable change to the hallway. Yet this was a residential hallway now and ahead of him was the only door to the residential area.
He went right up to the door and laid a palm on the security plate on the doorframe. The door clicked twice as the palace AI recognized him as a person who had access to the residential area, and the door opened on its own.
He was the only one on Neen who could access this residential area now as it’d been closed off from all other personnel at the death of the duke. He, of course, with his long past as a true friend of the duke’s, was not counted as having access officially either, which was another good thing.
