by Jim Rudnick
So far, looking down, he saw only three such packages—two in the normal bright red cardboard envelopes marked for delivery to NEEN CUSTOMS and one in violet and neon yellow stripes marked AMBASSADOR BEDRE.
“Three,” he said to himself, “that should be nice and easy. A stopover at Customs, and then run downtown to the government buildings to drop this off for Bedre. Then off to the pub for a beer. Great way to end the day.” He grinned to himself as he picked up the three items and went out the back door.
He smiled at another of the guards who was having a suntan session in the late summer month. He put on his helmet, swung a leg over the saddle of his bike, and slapped his thumb down on the start plate. As the bike roared into life, he made sure that the saddlebags were sealed on the three parcels. He gunned the throttle, and the bike roared down the rear alley. Soon, he was out on the street, headed to Customs first.
Once he’d tossed the two envelopes into the hands of the Customs clerk and gotten a thumbprint on his tablet proving the two packages were delivered, he was back on his bike and on his way downtown. He roared along, enjoying the summer sunshine on the tall buildings ahead as he made his way down the parkway and the traffic got heavier.
“Watch out for the turkey-faces,” he said to himself and thanked, for the millionth time, his uncle who had taught him how to ride a bike and watch out for other drivers all the time.
Ahead of him, a car in his lane was turning left, and he slowed. Noting the hole in the traffic in the lane on his right, he leaned right and the bike leaned too. The car that had been slowing to turn left suddenly jumped into the right turn lane without signaling.
“Turkey-face,” he said to himself as he jammed on the rear brake to spin the rear end out to the right. He laid down the bike on its left side and realized the road would grind his leg badly, but at this point, it was only a leg. He jammed the front brake on full with a grip that almost bent the handlebars. He closed his eyes as his helmet struck the parkway pavement, and he passed out.
The bike, with its large cross-section now on the pavement, scraped and screamed as its metal frame slowed quickly but still struck the car with a severe blow, and it bounced off the bike, into the curb, and then hit the car one more time, which drove it into the guardrail with a huge crash.
It was a mess, and all the parkway traffic came to a complete stop.
Parts of the bike, including the broken saddlebags, lay strewn around the wreck of the car, its bumper detached, as it smoldered, and the driver jumped out quickly for safety. Someone ran up to the bike as it lay still running, and the rpms were revving up higher and higher. That Good Samaritan couldn’t find a way to turn the bike off, but he dragged the rider off the seat and away from the crash site.
Someone yelled for a medical doctor, and from the other side of the parkway, a man hoisted himself up and over the median guardrail, identified himself as a doctor, and ran to the bike rider to help. Maneuvering around the broken parts, he kicked an exhaust pipe to the curb where it came to a rest against a badly smashed violet and neon yellow package.
No one noticed the package, even with the neon yellow and violet stripes. Everyone was focused on trying to help the rider, and in the distance, one could hear sirens from medical and law enforcement vehicles drawing closer.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Baroness was pleased with the executive committee room, which she thought of as hers. She noted that, as usual, there were seven carefully spaced spots around the round table, each with its own desk pad, Agenda, writing items, and charging pads for a user’s tablet. The room had been plain when she’d been appointed to the committee a few years back; however, she had been able to use her influence to convince the Navy Hall staff to liven the room up. Once they had learned she would donate some tchotchkes to help liven up the space a bit, they readily agreed.
A nice native Ikarian carving was on the brick wall opposite her seat at the table. Its feathered serpent of orange and red on the animal’s yellow skin added a real whoop of color. The bookcases that lined the whole wall behind her now had more decorative items. Knickknacks from Ttseen and carvings of real sailing ships from DenKoss lined some of the shelves. Small powered trinkets from Carnarvon that occasionally flashed a soft red glow were placed around little carvings. A glass jar of small beads and sand stars from Merilda sat in front of some leather-bound books.
She tossed her hair as she waited. “While the room is fine now, perhaps it was the people on the committee who met each month here that bothered me the most,” she said to herself, reflecting on each member individually.
The Caliph was the Caliph. He wore his ambitions on his sleeve, and she knew more than enough about how to handle him.
Chairman Gramsci was still an unknown. She had been trying to fathom him and his own desires now for almost ten years. She still was unable to figure out what drove the alien, and thus, she was not yet able to control him.
Admiral McQueen, the chief of staff for the committee was someone she knew and understood well. McQueen was a force with great experience and knowledge about how to navigate not only the stars but the kind of bureaucracy the RIM Confederacy was all about.
The new Master Adept was still something of an unknown. She knew the woman could read her mind, but she also knew that it meant that there was often synergy between what the Barony wanted and the Issians wanted.
The Doge of Conclusion was a real non-player, and as usual, he went with the flow around the table.
And the last seat, still vacant now for almost six months, was the one that used to hold the Duke d’Avigdor, who had died at her stepdaughter’s wedding. The Duchy d’Avigdor was the prize, and she expected to win it.
She nodded and smiled up at the admiral who walked in just as she finished analyzing the committee members
“Baroness,” he said, “nice to see you here so early, Ma’am. And an overall thank you once again for the Barony Drive—we all can now be early for just about anything.”
She had no idea, really, if that was a slur on her release of the new drive or not, but at face value, perhaps he meant it, and so she kept the smile on her face.
“Admiral—so nice to see you too. And yes, the new drive has helped out immensely with travel here on the RIM, but perhaps as we release it inwards, it will help much of this arm of the galaxy too,” she said. She really had no intention of doing that kind of overall release, but nobody should know that, and her smile stayed on her face as though painted on.
“Undoubtedly, Ma’am. Good for the Barony,” he said as he dropped his folders, tablet, and pile of other items onto the desk pad in front of him. His position was to her right with one other, the Master Adept, between them, and moments later as he was still trying to get his items organized, the Doge of Conclusion and the Master Adept appeared together and greeted them all.
It took still another ten minutes for the Caliph and the chairman to show up and get organized too. At last, she thought, everyone is here. Once he had taken his seat, the chairman called the meeting to order.
The committee clerk rose. “Agendas are at your places, and we only have one more addition—the new item will be in the new business category at the end, number seven, and I will pass out the proposal when we reach that spot,” the clerk said, and she sat as the meeting began.
The Baroness couldn’t care less about the current state of the trade wars between the Leudies and the Faraway realms, but she listened dutifully and nodded where applicable. This was old news and in fact, the release of the Barony Drive had kept these two realms within the RIM Confederacy. She mentally checked off that she had been the single saving grace for these two alien planets and the rest of the executive committee knew that.
Items two, three, and four were of little interest to her. Under item two, the realm of Hope was asking again for more RIM funds to help them cope with rising sea levels. Novertag, which was item three, was going through a large expansion of its naval yards and was looking for RIM Navy
business. On the Agenda again, but at number four this time, was Duos asking for help with their civil war campaigns.
The easiest vote for everyone on the committee was the fourth item. Not helping either side was the mantra at the table, and she voted the same as the rest of them.
The Baroness quietly tapped her toe as she waited for the committee to move through Agenda items five and six. Randi was asking for some leeway on the customs for their magnetite exports as item number five, and everyone agreed more details and further study were required before a decision could be made. For the sixth Agenda item, Quaran was also looking for relief on its latest exports for its Beaujolais Nouveau for the upcoming season.
Finally, an item that is of some interest to me, she thought and grinned inwardly as she was all for great wine. The Baroness voted for same after speaking about what a great way it’d be to help the farmers of Quaran to make a better living. She owned, through several off-planet surrogate companies, controlling interest in a large wine exporter, but she didn’t think that was important enough to mention. The Quaran request passed easily.
Throughout the first six Agenda items, the Baroness waited patiently until the committee moved on to the new business. The clerk rose and handed out the new items on its own sheet, and as the Baroness was given hers, she couldn’t help but frown.
Duchy business. I knew it.
Chairman Gramsci spoke first, and while his tones were measured and rational, it was the import of what he was saying that counted for some in the room. “The Temporary Provisional Government of the Duchy d’Avigdor has asked that we make everyone aware of the current search for their new realm partner,” he said.
She noted he didn’t even look at the sheet of paper before him. He knew about it beforehand, she realized, and that too was an issue. She had three moles within the executive committee staff and not one had said a thing to her about this.
“We have kept this on the down-low as they say—at least as humans say, I might add—so that no one would learn of this up front,” he said.
She nodded at that. Still should have found out earlier though, she thought.
“Here’s the gist of what they want us to know. They originally had a list of six realms that they had chosen to begin to have talks with. The names on that list are held in the strictest confidence—but I’m doing away with that as of right now. Both the Caliphate and the Barony are on that list. Genie, the last one to be added, has actually turned down the offer. Hope has done the same thing as well. The Duchy itself has crossed off Thrones and Merilda as potential merge realms. Technically, that leaves only the Caliphate and the Barony,” he said, and he leaned back. One hand toyed with a gavel while he crossed two more on his stomach as he wiped his brow with another.
He pointed at the Baroness and then the Caliph. “We know—now at least—that the duchy will belong to one of you. Six planets gained by one of you—which may make for some interesting times here on the RIM,” he finished up, all six hands now lying flat on the desk pad in front of him.
The Baroness looked over at the Caliph and then dipped her head, so he spoke first.
“I take it then, that the Option Number Two as was presented at the full Confederacy Council meeting last month—the codicil whereby a new heir might be named—is also gone by?”
Figures, she thought, that he’d go to that first.
The chairman shook his head. “We have no idea on that. It may still be in play, we only know what Ambassador Bedre passed on to us. I have no real inkling either on that., The heir may still be under consideration like the other two or not. No idea,” he said.
She could tell he at least looked like that was what he meant. She thought on that too for a minute before she nodded to the chairman and finally spoke.
“I thank you too,” she said nicely and politely, even though the Caliph had not done so, “on the news, Chairman. We, yes, are one of the realms on that list, and now that it’s shrunk to only the two of us, we will both need to watch carefully for any kind of conflict of interest,” she said. Or what might appear to be same even though behind the scenes, I am working to win the duchy.
The chairman nodded and then said, “I will notify the Duchy d’Avigdor’s Temporary Provisional Government, via Ambassador Bedre, that we have now gotten the current status of the duchy’s position and the Committee is aware. We will also make this an Agenda item for the next full RIM Confederacy Council too with your permission …”
He received a clear-cut sign of agreement all around the table, and the meeting was adjourned.
Taking the elevator down to the ground floor of Navy Hall, the Baroness caught the eye of the new Master Adept and smiled. She got a big return smile and wondered what the Issian had seen behind all that posing and posturing at the committee meeting.
#####
The Lady St. August sat down lightly at the table and looked around at the group she had assembled.
And not a single had been used either, she thought and smiled inwardly at that. Trying to keep this meeting quiet and confidential had been a bit difficult, and the only reason she’d been able to do so was because she had yelled—actually yelled—at her EliteGuard colonel.
He’d not wanted to do away with what he called SOP—standard operating procedure—whereby anybody entering the palace needed to be vetted first, then pass through security, and then be in sight of a guardsman at all times.
She had yelled at him and reminded him that the Barony did have an outpost over on ITO; he could very much end up there in charge of four corporals and give up his position and rank.
He’d complied instantly, and she had to remember that a personal attack worked best sometimes; not often, it was true, but it did work.
The EliteGuard colonel had met the Sword, the personal ship of Lord Scott, as it had pulled into the navy landing base here on Neres just hours ago and had hustled the few occupants away from the ship into a troop carrier and the privacy within. Half an hour later, the carrier had pulled up at the palace and backed in at one of the many service entrances. The colonel escorted the four occupants through several corridors, up staircases, and even up an escalator too. Eventually, they reached this meeting room, which was little more than a small salon; as of today, the room held this large round table and six chairs.
Each took a seat and waited. They knew what to expect, and all were quietly waiting.
One chair held Professor Klaasjan Boven of the university on Carnarvon, the acknowledged expert on RIM Confederacy law and the constitution that bound all the realms together. He knew what the meeting was about and had brought in a large binder of documents, which he placed in front of him at the table.
One chair held Ambassador Bedre of the Duchy Temporary Provisional Government, representing the Duchy d’Avigdor. He was fidgeting with his tablet, and the Lady thought that was normal since he had no idea why he had been invited.
One chair held the new Barony fleet admiral, Admiral Higgins, who wore his five stars with pride, and he was at the table to represent the Barony and her military forces. He’d only been with the Barony now for a few days, but he was well known to have been able to parse what was necessary for any man’s navy in less time.
The Lady herself sat next as the table was laid out, and beside her was an empty chair.
The last chair at the table held Prime Minister Kondo Lazaro of Amasis. He too was unaware of why he’d been asked to attend the meeting, but he was savvy enough to smile at anyone who caught his eye. Kondo was a good friend to her husband, and the Lady thought he was going to be helpful, should she need to look for help persuading her husband of his good friends.
The door opened and in walked Lord Scott who did a double take as he took in the people already within the room. He smiled at them all as he took the only empty seat.
“Well, nice to see you all again—and Professor … Professor Boven, yes?” he said as he looked across the table at the only one present that he didn’t really know.
Helena noted that her husband just nodded and then turned to her.
“And this meeting is for …” he said nicely, as he had no idea.
But he is soon to learn, she thought. “Lord Scott,” she said quite formally, “yes, I called this meeting to discuss your acceptance of the late Duke d’Avigdor’s will as you become the new duke according to his codicil.”
Nobody in the room said a word.
She waited a full minute before continuing. “To all here, you should know the following. That the late duke died, but in his will,” she said as she pointed at the thick folder in front of her, “he added a codicil just a few months back. That if Lord Scott wishes to accept the late duke as his adopted father, then the dukedom will fall to Lord Scott as his heir. Simple. Neat. And yet, as I’m sure some of you here have just realized, very much a strange set of circumstances. We are here today to discuss just that. That if Lord Scott agrees to the codicil and accepts that he be adopted by the late duke, then he will become the heir—and all that this position entails,” she said quietly.
“Questions … I’m sure that many of you have questions, but before you ask, may we hear from Professor Boven first,” she said.
Each of the meeting participants nodded.
Professor Boven half-smiled and opened his binder. Using a tab, he drilled down about halfway in the binder. “Most of what we assume will be the biggest hindrance of such an acceptance is the simple fact that the duke is no longer alive. He is dead. So how can he ‘adopt’ anyone would be what we think is the major sticking point. And we have an answer for that too,” he said, and he pulled the binder closer so he could refer to same.
