by Jim Rudnick
Across the room, the Provost guards closed the door as the Council meeting was about to start.
The chairman nodded to the clerk and banged the gavel down on the desk. Conversation dried up as he said, “This meeting of the RIM Confederacy Council will come to order, please. Clerk, the Agenda, please …”
The clerk read off the meeting Agenda, referring to the printed page in front of her, as she stood at the clerk’s console in the center of the big horseshoe-shaped table. “This meeting will come to order, and our Agenda is as follows. Regrets first from Garnuth and Novertag. Garnuth, it appears, is facing a major outbreak of porcine fever, we’ve been told, and Novertag is in the middle of their election week. Both have offered to receive full minutes and to allow the chairman to vote their own views by proxy. Any challenges to that offer?” she asked.
The room was silent with no rejections of same, and the clerk nodded to the chairman.
“Carried,” he said and then nodded back.
“Next, our Agenda, you see in front of you, has been slightly modified, and my apologies on that note. I only received notice of the addition of this item minutes ago—”
The member from Carnarvon interrupted her. “Clerk, not a problem—let’s just move on, shall we? I’m sure whomever or whatever it’s about will be obvious to us all,” he said.
Most members agreed with him and either nodded or knocked on the tabletop.
Point taken, McQueen thought.
Chairman Gramsci looked around the table and said, “Then the modified Agenda is accepted by all—and carried.”
The clerk motioned to her staffers, and shortly thereafter, the clerk’s two staffers quickly circled the table and handed out the modified Agenda, which had just been printed.
All eyes looked down at the sheet of paper, and then all eyes looked up and over to the admiral who was standing up at his tiered seat.
“My compliments to the clerk and the chairman for the opportunity to speak first at today’s Council meeting. I am going to, perhaps, be held accountable for what is about to happen here—but there is someone that I’d like to introduce to the Council first. Council AI, please open the outer doors to admit my guest,” he said, and as he did, the doors opened, and all eyes turned away from the admiral toward the door.
Standing in the hallway, facing the now opened double doors, was Lord Scott, wearing the pure white uniform of a Duchy d’Avigdor Navy officer, with no rank visible at all. As he entered the room, several seated members called out.
“There is no reason that this Royal need to attend the meeting—his Baroness is already here,” one said.
“What kind of outfit is that?” another said.
“Admiral, surely there are real items to deal with rather than another Barony issue,” a third said.
McQueen had no idea if that referred to the recent vid that had come out or not, and he was about to reply when Tanner spoke up, steel in his voice.
“Members of the RIM Confederacy Council, I come before you today to claim my place among you,” he said.
That quieted the room for a moment, and then protests that a Barony lord could not sit with them rang out through the chamber, followed by others stating that this Council was composed of heads of state only—and he was not that. “Was not the Baroness the one that ruled the Barony?” someone yelled.
Tanner nodded to the yells and even to a catcall or two, and then he walked over to stand close to Ambassador Bedre, sitting in the Duchy d’Avigdor’s seat at the table.
“Ambassador Bedre, I charge you with the duty to report to the Council truthfully—as you presented here to the Council months ago—that there is a second option, is there not, in the duke’s will—a codicil, I believe it’s called?”
The ambassador blanched but nodded his agreement.
The Caliph rose in anger, his voice loud in the chamber, standing up to his full height of six feet and six inches. “This is all not to be allowed,” he said, pointing a finger at the admiral, “as we have already heard that there has been a decision on the successful new realm to be formed with the Duchy d’Avigdor becoming a part of the Caliphate.” His voice grew louder and louder until he was yelling.
Before Admiral McQueen could even react, Provost guards were double-timing it into the chamber to take up posts around the room. Each was armed with a Merkel—an automatic rifle that could project ten rounds a second. Not a single head of state in the room missed that as they stared and looked first at each other and then at Admiral McQueen.
McQueen nodded to them and then spoke to the Chairman, with respect. “Chairman Gramsci, my apologies at this, um, this intrusion of the Provost guards, but I thought it might be a very contentious meeting—well, at least my own number one presentation, so I had them come in and take up posts within the room to prevent any kind of violence. They do not respond to me, Chairman, but only to you, is that not correct, Captain Ankers?” he said to the guard in charge of the detail.
“Sir, yes, Sir. We’ve been instructed to follow only the chairman’s orders from now on, Sir,” he said, barking out the answer.
Voices rose once again in the chamber room, and all clamored for recognition by the chairman, but the four gavels Chairman Gramsci banged on the desk eventually got the room back in some degree of order.
“Noted, Admiral McQueen—and yes, I am in charge. This is highly unusual, but I think perhaps warranted—but next time, Admiral, give me some advance notice, please,” he said as four of his hands dropped the gavels on the tabletop. He nodded to Lord Scott to continue as he motioned for the Caliph to be seated.
“As you were about to say, and out loud, please, Ambassador, for the record—about Option Number Two in the late duke’s will?” Tanner said.
“Yes, Lord Scott—there is a codicil, whereby the duke left the inheritance of the duchy—the dukedom itself—to a secret person here on the RIM. But, might I point out that there has already been a final choice for our Option Number One made in the Duchy d’Avigdor and its future—”
“You may certainly do that—but as that is point number four in today’s Agenda, and we’re only on point number one—carried by the Council just moments ago, we will not hear that yet.
“Instead, please tell the Council who the duke chose to inherit the duchy—should they wish to do so—in one year from his death. One year, by the way, that is not over for thirteen days,” Tanner said.
McQueen had insisted that he add that to his explanation. He had told Tanner there was no sense in allowing any misunderstanding for today’s events. The room got deadly silent again as the Council members waited to hear Ambassador Bedre reveal the duke’s heir. McQueen noted that the Provost guards were ready for anything.
Ambassador Bedre squirmed in his chair. His face was white and all present could see sweat on his brow. He wiped his brow with a handkerchief and grimaced. “The duke—David—determined that the person he wanted to inherit the duchy was you, Lord Scott,” he said.
Again, the room exploded. The Djarreer member actually took to wing and squawked. The DenKoss members swished in their tanks, and water poured over the sides. Leudie neck snakes suddenly uncoiled, and some snapped at the air. The Eran giant almost rose up to his full twelve feet, then remembered the ceiling was only inches away, and sank back down.
All were surprised, McQueen noted, except for the Master Adept who looked around the room at face after face, reading, he thought, what lay behind these displays of surprise. She knew. And that was something he’d have to file away for later consideration.
Tanner nodded. “Then here, by the strength of the duke’s codicil, I hereby accept the position of the new Duke d’Avigdor. Chief Justice, if you please,” he said.
The room was silent once again as they all turned to look up in the tiered guest seating behind the chairman.
The chief justice accepted the hand of Admiral Higgins as they both descended from the guest area to approach Tanner, and she stopped just short of him. She sm
iled at him, and with Admiral Higgins’ help, she placed a bible in the admiral’s hands and asked Tanner to place his left hand on same.
He did so and held up his right hand, palm open and facing the woman.
“Please repeat after me. I —say your name—, hereby swear that I will faithfully execute the position of the Duke d’Avigdor and will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the constitution of the duchy—so help me God.”
Tanner did just that, and in moments, there were even a few cheers from around the table.
“Ambassador,” Tanner said nicely, “please give me my seat.”
The ambassador half-smiled up at his new duke, rose, and offered Tanner the seat at the Council table reserved for the head of state for the Duchy d’Avigdor.
More cheers and even a few shouts of “Attaboy” greeted his new role on the RIM.
The Baroness, however, did not cheer at all; instead, she rose in her seat.
Bingo, McQueen thought, now this gets interesting.
“May I ask Ambassador Bedre then—as the notice of the awarding of the duchy to the successful suitor for same is still upcoming on the Agenda—if this will still occur?”
Before the ambassador could answer, Chairman Gramsci pounded his gavel on the table and said, “Baroness—the new head of state for the duchy—Duke Scott—might be the one to ask that question to, I’d think?”
That got knocks on the table in agreement.
The Baroness smiled at Tanner. “And the answer then to my question would be?” she posed sweetly.
As sweet as a hungry Jael, McQueen thought.
“Baroness, I am glad to answer your query. There is a new head of state for the Duchy d’Avigdor and we, as of now, no longer need to think about merging with any other realm. So item number four is hereby removed from the rest of the Agenda. Clerk to make a note of that now, please,” he said, which got a nod from the clerk who was busy recording all of this, her face as white as others in the room.
“I am sorry to hear of that, as the Barony was to be the new realm of the Duchy d’Avigdor,” she said, which got more stunned looks around the table. But no one said a word, as what might have been mattered not a whit.
The Caliph slammed the table in front of him, and more than a few safeties on the Provost’s Merkels could be heard snapping to off.
But he sat still.
McQueen almost thought that was too bad; the erasure of such a head of state might have been a good thing overall for the RIM Confederacy, but he pushed that thought away.
“However, Baroness—we do have some other business to present with the chairman’s approval on this minor addition to our spot on the Agenda,” Tanner said, and he got a nod from the chairman on that, so he went ahead.
“There will be a major change to the Duchy d’Avigdor’s position on the Barony holding the prisoner charged with the murder of both the previous Master Adept and the previous Duke d’Avigdor. We understand that the duchy had been asked—as one of the realms that was affected by the crime—to allow the Barony to look after the prosecution of the charged criminal.
“We hereby rescind that permission and request that the prisoner be readied for transport over to Neen by end of business today. We will look after the prosecution of that prisoner on our own,” he said calmly.
Quiet. The room was quiet, and McQueen knew a large part of the day rested on how the Baroness would respond. He was thankful for the Provost guards and the overall eye of the chamber AI as well.
“Do I take it that the people of Eons do likewise,” she asked, looking over at the Master Adept at the table.
The Master smiled at her. “Yes, please, Baroness. As one of the two realms that were affected by this crime, we ask that the prisoner be turned over to the Duchy d’Avigdor for prosecution,” she said, her voice as serene as waves on a nighttime sea.
The Baroness just stared at her for a second,and then nodded. “I will make it so, Duke Scott,” she said and dipped her head.
Bloodshed averted, McQueen thought, or at least a fat lip or two.
“And there is one more matter, Baroness—but I turn over that nicety to Admiral Higgins, the Barony fleet admiral.”
Higgins walked over to stand beside the Baroness and half-smiled at her. “I am afraid that I must tender my resignation, Baroness. Also, the resignation of Lieutenant Commander Bram Sander from the Barony Navy. It’s been a slice, but other opportunities call, Ma’am,” he said as he set two large envelopes with the proper paperwork enclosed in front of her.
She sighed and then nodded.
And in one stroke, the Duchy d’Avigdor’s Navy had a brand new admiral and lieutenant commander loyal to the new duke, McQueen thought, and that brought a grin to his face, which spread around the table to the faces of other members once they caught on.
But, McQueen thought, something was odd about the Baroness and her acceptance of losing a realm and two of her best officers too. There was the larger matter of how uncomfortable the next holiday dinner might be at the Barony Palace when Duke Scott and his wife came to sup, but that was for someone else to worry about. Still something else left unsaid and unnoticed, but what? Admiral McQueen sighed. He would have to wait to see how that unknown would present itself in the future.
The room was quiet so McQueen spoke. “Clerk, I believe that this ends my own presentation as Agenda item number one …” he said nicely.
She nodded and looked at Chairman Gramsci.
“Agreed, Admiral McQueen. Let me be one of the first to acknowledge our newest head of state on the RIM Confederacy Council—Duke Tanner Scott of the Duchy d’Avigdor. Welcome, Sir,” he said, and all over the chamber, there were congratulatory shouts and knocking on the table that lasted a full two minutes.
The chairman let it go and then had to use two gavels at once to ask the room for quiet so the meeting could resume. “Clerk, please ensure to record all of these items carefully for the record and for the minutes that will need to be sent out as well. Item number one carried. Item number two, please …” he said, and the meeting continued.
#####
Helena had not been able to get into the Council meeting, but she and Lieutenant Commander Sander had watched over the closed loop vid in the room next door that was reserved for VIP viewing.
When her husband walked out of the Council chamber, she grabbed him and gave him a huge hug. “I am so proud of the new Duke d’Avigdor—you are my hero,” she said, and he grinned back at her as he held her tight.
“You are mine,” he said and kissed her at length.
Bram shook his hand more than long enough, and the two friends grinned at each other.
From her pocket, Helena took out a small box and opened it, giving it to Bram to hold for her. From within the box, she took out the Duchy d’Avigdor icon—three red planets around a blue sun—and she worried them into place on Tanner’s collar. “There,” she said as she stepped back—”the new Duke d’Avigdor in all his glory.”
Tanner smiled and accepted their congratulations as the whole group smiled and clapped for him.
They accompanied their small group of two admirals and the chief justice down to the ground level of Navy Hall and made their goodbyes.
Tanner clasped McQueen’s hand extra hard and shook it with vigor. “Won’t forget—could never forget—what you’ve done for me once again, Admiral,” he said, true friendship in his voice.
McQueen had shuffled his feet and smiled back at his protege. “Never been close to a duke before,” he said. “Just remember I like Scotch,” he said as a throwaway line, and they both grinned at that.
The chief justice was joining Admiral Higgins for the ride back to Neres City in the Barony.
“Will be in touch, Admiral,” Tanner said, and they too gripped hands like true friends.
After the congratulations and goodbyes had finished, Bram, Tanner, and Helena returned to the Sword.
Bram sat in the co-pilot’s seat, and every on
ce in a while, he shouted back at Tanner and Helena that he’d never been so close to Royalty. That got a laugh from them all.
“We need to make some plans,” Tanner said.
Helena nodded, turned on her PDA, and hit the holo-switch. What popped up was a list Tanner should have known that she’d have made, and she went through each item one by one.
“The prisoner will be picked up at the Hospital Ship—I insisted on this too, by the way—at seventeen hundred hours by the Duchy d’Avigdor Navy’s cruiser, the DN GoldEye. She will be moved into the palace—in the palace brig, mind you—by nineteen hundred hours and looked at by our own med team. We will get that report later—with full med screen scans too. We good on that one?” she asked.
He nodded. Couldn’t have done it better myself. Checking her meds was a good one too …
“The Sword—this ship itself. I know how much you love this one, so I’ve begun negotiations between our navy purchasing department and the Barony. No idea on what the price might be—but we’ll get word back soonest. Okay?”
He nodded once more, thinking he was a lucky duke for sure.
“Third, today, is the duchy itself. We’ll need to make an announcement to the citizens of same—so I’ve arranged for a full spectrum of press and media and even RIM Confederacy-wide news teams to meet with us at the ducal palace this evening at twenty hundred hours. Full media scrum, so you better have that smile ready—and a side note? You are the first duke in centuries that does not carry the d’Avigdor bloodline. Some will make you answer for that, and I’d go with the fact that David thought you so capable he named you as his heir. Professor Bowen,” she said as she looked up a couple of rows at their constitutional expert, “will be with us for a short—I told him less than four minutes—explanation about the legality of the inheritance on same.”
Professor Bowen sat alone, looking out the starboard porthole on that side of the Sword, and did not respond to Helena saying his name.
Tanner nodded once more. “Maybe I could just go back to Bottle and lie on the beach and Helena could run the duchy,” he mumbled.
