by Jim Rudnick
And that was true, she thought. Lord Scott had been the fulcrum for most of the recent changes and discoveries here on the RIM for almost a decade now—Bram would help their faith keep up with same, and perhaps, she half-smiled again, even ahead of the leading edge.
“We welcome you, Master Adept,” all of the minds said in unison.
She nodded back to them even though they couldn’t see that motion. “I thank you for your time today and today there is the one item only to discuss—well, there is a small matter too as well,” Gloria said as she decided to tell her advisers about the climate changes on Eons.
The discussion went well, she thought, as each of them had agreed that the news about the change in the Eon’s star’s radiation output should remain for now, at least, as a secret to the general population. Then they moved onto the item that worried her still.
“You all know that at our linking of two weeks ago, I had asked for you all to look into helping me find the three other worlds where they had made some kind of advance attempts at settling same. Of course, that’s my ‘take’ on their reasoning, but the information is pretty authoritative that they landed on Ghayth and three other worlds. So, if anyone has any new information on those three worlds, we’d all like to know …” she said.
And she looked around the linked group.
Zara Patel leaned in a bit and spoke to them all. “Master, what you’ve asked for is such a hard thing to do—my sister Elia and I have been on four worlds since our last linking, and on each we’ve been searching minds for any ‘hint’ of something that might be about the Praix. Nothing is what we’ve found—and I can say with all honesty, that the heads of state we’ve talked to all know nothing about the ancients, Master. Not a single thing. Even conversation however gently nudged toward the existence of any kind of ‘old cultures,’ led us nowhere …” she finished off and Elia, seated beside her, nodded.
Gloria took that in. Searching a head of state was certainly a good way to see what they knew—only such a supreme ruler might have such knowledge, and while Zara and Elia had focused on that as a good source, the fact that four more RIM Confederacy worlds, Thrones, Conclusion, DenKoss, and Juno were crossed off the list was not good news.
Others chimed in too.
Pavla Jelinek and her sister Jana reported the same lack of any kind of information about the ancients from Farth, Garnuth, and Takan. Others offered up more names, and the new number of planets crossed off the list hit twenty-two pretty quickly.
Gloria turned to Bram and raised an eyebrow.
He nodded back. “Master, yes, I too tried to find out any kind of recon on these other Praix worlds—and I too found not a single conscious thought, or even a hidden thought, from the two worlds I was on—Merilda and Carnarvon, Master. I think that we’re all going to be ‘striking out’ when it comes to this quest, Ma’am,” he said, and his point was well made.
The Master nodded and realized that with more than ninety worlds to query, it would take a bit more time, but even if every single world was crossed off the list of possible Praix outposts, the fact was there were three. Three in the RIM Confederacy, and she had to find them.
“Might I, Ma’am, make one more point,” Bram thought quietly.
She nodded.
Bram continued. “It might be that on the wrecked ship on Ghayth, there would be some kind of a log or record of the other planets. My own experience,” he said, as he looked at the rest of the inner circle, “is as a Navy officer—and a large part of that world is the storage of exactly this kind of planetary data in the ship’s database. Might I have leave to see if such records exist on the Ghayth wreck, Master?”
She was perturbed that she’d not thought of that herself—and yet once again happy that she had risked much in adding Bram to the inner circle, and she smiled widely.
“Good idea, Bram. Please, yes, do search—but again with a degree of confidentiality so as to really hide what it is we’re looking for—understand?” she thought with precision.
Bram nodded and added, “Yes, Ma’am.”
She nodded back and thought to herself that if Bram could find the names of those planets on the wreck on Ghayth, that would help her immensely, and she would find a way to repay his initiative somehow.
#####
Coming back from the wreck, Tanner stared, lost in thought, out the window of the Sword. Ayla, his aide, sat beside him, and while he was unaware of it, she had gauged his mood and sat quietly without interrupting his train of thought. The Sword flew just about at a thousand feet above the sea that separated the southern continent that was the home for the alien wreck and the northern continent where Base-1 lay. It was a trip of only three thousand miles, but he’d asked his pilot to take it slow, and there was still about an hour left of the return to the city. His EliteGuard team of six sat behind him, taking up a couple of rows on the Sword. They had been very aware that as there was full security on Ghayth, they didn’t need to be so close to him all the time; they had left a buffer zone around him when they had visited the wreck.
He had been somewhat surprised by the wreck itself—not having been there in months—and he’d been unaware of how a real xeno team worked—very unaware, he had realized. All over the wreck were placards and easels holding up hand-lettered signage with information on whatever was needed. On the major path that ran the north-south access corridor of the ship for instance, every fifty feet or so, a sign read, “This is Alpha Path #1,” and all paths branching off were labeled similarly but with a number that was matched by the icons on the path themselves. Doorways that hung above had signs hung with simple descriptions of what lay within: ”Room holds sleeping perches” was one that had made him smile with its “No idea what goes on in here” note. He had walked and enjoyed Professor Beedles and his way of offering up information. For everything they went by, Professor Beedles began every explanation with a caution that it was their “current thinking” as to what was what. It could change, he’d said many times, and more than a dozen times, he had explained what something was—and what they’d originally thought about it too.
He’d nodded.
He knew that a Royal seldom asked real drill-down questions, but he’d learned that the same information could be gotten from his aide. Letting her know when he wanted that kind of depth on an area was a chore at first, but he’d quickly clued in Ayla. Now when he said, “Now that’s interesting,” she would make a note and ask for more information afterward. He’d get the information directly from her later.
This being a Royal was a job in and of its own self. Learning how is not so much fun, he thought for the twelfth time today, as he watched the swells in the ocean far below.
He turned to Ayla and smiled at her. “Lieutenant, can I ask that you add one more thing to the list of items I’d like to know more about?” he said.
“Aye, My Lord,” she answered and got out a tablet and waited ready to type it in.
“I would like to know if there has been, as yet, any testing on power fluctuations around or near the bridge door when the alien’s transporter suddenly works? Any kind of electrical or power irregularity at all? Surely, it takes power to do that, and I wonder if the xeno team might have thought of that as yet?”
She nodded as her fingers flew on the tablet, and moments later she said, “Yes, My Lord, I will have that information for you before dinner this evening too.”
He nodded, turned back to his left in the window seat of the passenger area behind the bridge of the Sword, and smiled down at the ocean below. Its crests and swells were almost the same gray as the sky above. At this moment, it wasn’t raining, but if he knew anything about Ghayth, he knew the rains came often. He wondered on that for a moment and then shook his head. There was no way anybody—even the superior aliens whose ship they were investigating—could control a whole planet’s weather and make Ghayth so dreary and rainy. No way. That thought stuck with him, and he made a mental note to ask someone who might know about same.
Ayla cleared her throat beside him. “My Lord, we’re approaching Base-1, and might I offer that I’ve made arrangements for you to have the penthouse suite at the big new hotel in town—the Ghayth-Hilton I’m told it’s called. Your security detail will follow and be on the floors below too, and I’ve also asked that they empty the two floors below you of everyone else. Our transport is a simple troop carrier, and I am sorry about that, My Lord—”
He interrupted her as he laid a hand on her arm. “Ayla, not a problem. You’ve done well, and I can ride on an Oved if needs be,” he said.
“That would be something to see,” Ayla said, stifling a giggle.
He imagined she’d pictured him way up high on the back of the ten-foot tall elk-like animal with huge horns and feet the size of snowshoes. He almost grinned himself, and then he sighed as the Sword touched down on the landing pad and coasted to a stop.
He smiled as his EliteGuard team surrounded him and escorted him off the ship, down the landing ramp, and across the tarmac to the troop carrier. Two of the guardsmen offered him a hand up, and he shook his head as he jumped up onto the pipe ladder and hoisted himself up and into the rear of the bus. Moments later, they were trucking across the tarmac, weaving around a couple of ships—one of which was a Faraway frigate. Odd, he thought, but then he noticed there were Provost guards manning the gate access to the base, and he smiled at that. Good to see that security was important and a part of the SOP of the base. Must commend Commander Williams on that later at dinner.
The short trip to the new hotel took only a few minutes more, and twenty minutes later, he was soaking in his tub, the water jets swirling hot bubbles around him. He was upset he’d not thought to ask for a cold beer or a cold drink of some kind as he soaked and washed away the sweat from his trip to the wreck.
An hour later, he presented himself—along with his EliteGuardsmen—to the maître d' of the beautiful restaurant downstairs in the hotel. He was led over to a large corner table, and he grinned at his dinner guests.
“Major Stal, how nice,” he said as he reached out a hand, and the marine in front of him took his hand and shook it vigorously. A friend now for years, the Major Alver Stal was the head of the marine forces on Ghayth and had also been in the wedding party. They had shared much from beers to tumult.
The major spoke briefly in Tanner’s ear as he pulled himself up close to his friend. “My sympathies on recent events, My Lord, but so, so good to see you up and around, Lord Scott.”
Tanner nodded and then said his hellos to Commander Williams and Professor Reynolds, and everyone sat down and got settled.
The EliteGuards spread out on the two open sides of their corner area but not close, and Tanner noted that almost a full half of the tables in the restaurant were empty as a buffer around them. Ayla, he noted, sat over at the bar, and she had told him that all he’d need to do would be to catch her eye, and she’d come over instantly to help with whatever was needed.
The others were already having cocktails, so he smiled at the server who was hovering close by and ordered a glass of white wine. He knew that it would taste wonderful, but no alcohol would ever reach his bloodstream as he’d had the alcoholic vaccine that made him invulnerable to its allure.
They talked. And they talked about the Barony Navy, the RIM Navy, the Faraway and Leudie trade wars recently fought, and of the latest rugby standings of various RIM Confederacy teams. Nobody was surprised that Tanner was a fan of the Andros Avengers, the home team of the Halberd planetary capital. s
Alver grinned and prodded him with their late lack of many wins. “And if you think the Avengers are going to be any better later in the season, you’ve just got to go and see a game and note that they traded away the best Loose Head Prop in the RIM Confederacy league for an Openside Flanker who broke his leg in his first game. Now they lose every scrum, and even the few they do win, there’s no one to pick up what the Hooker hooks back to the next row,” he said, and he smiled at them all.
All knew that as a citizen of Gazaya, one of the Barony realm planets, Alver was very partial to his own team, the Grazers. Often, he’d beg off socializing if there was a game on with his team, and instead, he would find a spot to sit and watch the rugby game, cheering for his team.
Tanner smiled, nodded, and offered up that the Avengers, yes, had made some mistakes; however, the new general manager had made a promise to rebuild in the next year’s draft. Tanner continued, “As the team is doing so bloody bad, they should be in the top couple of teams making choices in the first draft rounds.”
More conversation and drinks followed, and as Tanner had expected, the cocktails were definitely a social lubricant and loosened everyone, except for him, up somewhat.
He made sure to offer up his kudos to one and all, as a good Royal should do. He complimented Commander Williams with his honest evaluation of the general sense of opportunity here on Ghayth, the success of the pioneer program, and the accompanying huge swell in buildings and new trade too.
He thanked the professor for the xeno team itself and mentioned how he knew they would make great strides in understanding the alien technology—and bring it within the grasp of the Barony to take charge of same.
He also smiled at Alver and added that he knew the major would look after security planet-wide, which was exceptionally important to one and all—especially to the Baroness.
He laughed when they did, and he smiled and nodded a lot. While the white wines had tasted delightful, he did not get a single bit of buzz. Must thank Doctor Etter for that, he thought and shied away from the intruding thought about his sister Gia and her recent move to the Barony Hospital Ship.
More than enough time for that later. He grinned at his dinner companions and listened to another of Alver’s rugby stories. Tanner enjoyed the camaraderie and laughter, which allowed him to temporarily put any thoughts of the Duchy d’Avigdor and its offer From his mind.
#####
The package came off the RIM Navy courier ship, as one of thousands to be delivered to the Duchy d’Avigdor every single day. It was tagged, as they all were, with a chip that offered every single item one might want to know about the sender and the route the package had followed to get to Neen City from wherever it had come from. And every single piece of information coded on that chip was untrue. False. Not a speck of veracity was on that chip—which was exactly what the sender had planned for to begin with.
It was a small package. Not more than a foot long and a couple of inches wide, it was wrapped with a very eye-catching pattern of violet and neon yellow stripes. It weighed less than a pound, and it was un-crushable too. Nobody could squeeze the package to feel what might have been inside.
The package had been on the courier ship for more than a week. Courier ships were the last ones to receive the new Barony Drive installs, and this one, the RN Trump, had yet to be outfitted with same. So it had been in transit for twelve days since it had left Conclusion with stops at Neria in the Caliphate, Tillion, then Anulet, and finally Neen. Each stop had been rather short with only enough time to dump out the containers with incoming packages and items and then pick up the outgoing containers for on-ship sorting and then storage until the proper planets were landed upon.
On the tarmac, robo-bots placed the containers on top of matching railcars, which were linked up to be driven off by a human. The driver did grunt at least twice, as some of the containers seemed to be improperly filled, and even in front of the long line of carts, he could hear things falling inside the newly attached containers.
“Not my worry,” the driver said to himself as he kicked the pedal down, and the whole container train jumped ahead. He wheeled it around a Leudie trader ship, two Lurdar freighters that were getting new anti-grav plates, and an Alex’n sphere ship that was just about ready to take off.
The driver headed the train toward the bright green building across the tarmac on the landing port, and in less than a minute more, the driver wheeled the train into t
he side door and hit the brakes almost immediately. He heard more shifting cargo behind him, but didn’t care as usual.
Once settled, he picked up his cargo tablet, bounced off the driver’s seat, and took the stairs two at a time up to the receiving office. Inside the door, he grinned at the man seated behind the counter and smiled. “Billy, Billy … last load in from the Trump, all accounted for,” he said.
“We’ll let the reports speak for themselves, Matthew,” he answered as he held out his hand for the tablet. A few minutes later, after running a report and downloading the data to his own console, he smiled and nodded. “You’re right, Matthew … all here and all scanned and ready for the sorters,” he answered as the driver left the office, done for the day.
The train of containers had already been unhooked from the engine and now was disappearing off to the left as the railcars were wheeled ahead and inside the large interior of the green courier building. Once inside, the containers were to be opened, contents sorted for their addressees, and then scheduled for drone or manual delivery. Some packages were numbered as one package out of a series of packages, and they had to all be gathered together for a single stop. Some were marked FRAGILE and had to be inspected to ensure that at this point, at check-in on Neen, they were still in good order. Some had to be handled separately as they had a RUSH sticker, which meant they were to go out first. Most, of course, did not have such a sticker and were going to be general delivery only. A few—a very few—were marked SECURITY FIRST, and they went to the head of the line as they were pulled from the flow of parcels and placed in the hands of a Duchy d’Avigdor Provost guard who had drawn that duty today.
