The RIM Confederacy Series: BoxSet Four: BOOKS 10, 11, & 12 of the RIM Confederacy Series

by Jim Rudnick

  Tanner looked away from Bram to her and said, “I agree.”

  She nodded and they turned back to watch Bram as he left the camera’s range, and the courtroom emptied.

  “AI,” Tanner said, “find Ayla, please, and send her in.”

  Moments later, his new lieutenant commander came in with her gold oak leaf collar devices shining brightly.

  “Ayla—couple of things if I can,” he said, and she nodded, tablet poised to take down his requests.

  “First, find Bram for me and have him in here sometime, say, tomorrow,” he began as she typed.

  “Next, do a search here on the RIM for liqueurs similar to this Hanka from Merilda. Would like to try others if there are any such ones available.”

  She grinned at him at that one but said not a word as she typed.

  “Then there’s our ‘do not disturb’ status—you may unlock that as of, say, tomorrow earliest, please, I’ve been away from the world now for two days, and that’s enough. Good?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Aye, Your Grace. Will do,” she said, and she turned to leave his office as quickly as she had arrived.

  Helena smiled. “She’s a real find. Makes me want to go to Hope and ask if they’d like to join the Duchy d’Avigdor,” she said as she sipped her glass of Hanka.

  “Not a chance—they’re far and away too much of an individual type only kind of planet,” he said.

  “So,” Helena said as she twisted in the big wing chair and swung her feet up and underneath her as she snuggled into the deep upholstery, “about how long will the deliberations take?”

  He shrugged. “Long enough I suspect,” he said with some small degree of a smile, “to let the three judges come to agreement.

  “Fine. Then let’s think about, say, a weekend away once this is over. Bottle maybe?” she asked.

  He grinned at her and shook his head. “How about a great hunting trip to Anulet?”

  She groaned as he told her about the upcoming treat he’d arranged for his groomsmen, and their talks continued into early evening.

  #####

  “Being young is a good thing,” he said to himself. Young, eager, enthusiastic, ambitious—all worked for him. If there was one thing Captain Magnusson knew about himself, it was that he was going to be an admiral one day. One day soon.

  After all, hadn’t he completed, with great aplomb, that secret mission for the Baroness just a month or so ago?

  If that meant he was willing to risk his ship and his crew at times, then that was something he’d consider at the time. Until now—other than the recent spate of testing for the Barony Drive—he’d always played it by the book, as they said.

  Out of the Eons Academy almost ten years ago, he had worked his way up the command structure on the Sterling under Captain Flannery, who had given him the XO’s job almost seven years ago.

  Now, he was a full-fledged captain on the BN Exeter, and he was happy with that—for now.

  “But one day ...” he said to himself as he nodded to the helm, and the Exeter followed the space station’s directions and docked off landing bay number three. He smiled at the helmsman. “Jefferson, you’ve got hands of magic, lad,” he said, and he did mean it.

  Finding an exact spot in space with no real markers—curbs, bumpers, or docks—to land up against took a skill this helmsman had in spades. From here, it’d be a two-minute ride in the Exeter’s shuttle over to the landing bay, and that was a perk that came from having great crewmen. Or in this case, a great crewwoman, as Jefferson was a tall Farthian alien—slightly thicker than one might think through the torso and waist and supported on long legs that were always within boots. Her head was almost torpedo shaped, but with her large eyes and the overlapping ocular range, she could see exceptionally well, which was another reason that having a Farthian at the helm was the gold standard.

  She nodded to her captain and said, “Aye, Sir ... but the Exeter is such an easy craft to handle.”

  He nodded and picked up the bag from beside the captain’s chair on the bridge. Hoisting the bag over a shoulder, he grinned at the weight and the slight clinking from within.

  As he walked, he went over the recent EYES ONLY he’d just had a day ago with the Baroness. Working for her meant that the admiral—the new one, Vennamo—must know too. After all, taking a full frigate out of the normal flow of shifts and missions and duties must be noticeable to navy headquarters—and Vennamo was one for the books. She supposedly had an eye on everything under her in the Barony Navy except the Exeter and him. For at least the hundredth time this week, he grinned and said to himself, “How good it is to have a Royal in your corner.”

  His next task was to resolve an issue with the gypsies. Magnusson would have to use his selling skills—the best ones he had—to get the gypsies to buy in. The Baroness had spelled that out to him, and he had agreed—as he knew he would—and had told her not to worry, he’d sell the deal to the refugees, no problem.

  He trooped out and off the bridge after giving the comm to his science officer as he went to the lift to take a down car to the shuttles on Deck Two and was soon jetting over to the station. After docking in the huge landing bay, he went to the station center and up the escalator to the third level. He went down another long corridor that swung slowly to the left as it curved around the station, and moments later, he was at the doorway to a conference room the Baroness had provided for his use.

  Two people sat at the table in the center of the room. Captain Daika Rossum sat at one spot, and beside her, her husband, who was also her her chief mate, Guari glowered at him. Husband and wife, he thought and shook his head, but that was how they did things in the Vitsa of Iron—a Roma family group of metalworkers, who had come to the Barony as refugees.

  In fact, these gypsies had provided the single item that had helped the RIM Confederacy defeat the aliens that had come to the RIM via their ship, the Scavenger. The gypsies had stolen that ship from the aliens years earlier, and since it was still recognized by the aliens as a part of their own reaper ships, the RIM Task Force had been able to destroy the invaders.

  On Memories, Magnusson remembered, a full frigate from the RIM Navy fleet, the BN Jamison, had been gifted to these two in trade as the RIM had needed to use their ship.

  That had led, via several odd occurrences, to their lab samples being held for further testing, which now had been done by the Barony science ministry—rather than the Roma crew themselves. And the sample of the red metal ore had started all of this.

  “Which had led,” Captain Magnusson said to himself, “to me.”

  He smiled as he sat down and thanked them for coming to meet with him. Niceties followed and they all were aware the meeting had not yet been started—this was just for social graces.

  He reached down, picked up his bag, and placed it on the table. “Do you remember the time when, from the Scavenger, all of your items were removed so we could use as much space as we could to hold ordnance in the fight against the invaders on Memories?” he began.

  They nodded. The man, the chief mate, leaned forward to speak, but his wife, the captain, motioned him to keep silent.

  “A part of that huge movement of items included the removal, and storage for you, of some small pallets and cases of ore samples from the labs you kept up on the second level—remember?” he continued.

  They both nodded again.

  “One of those samples, this one,” he said as he reached into the bag, took out a chunk of the ore, and plopped it on the table where it landed with a clunk, “Xithricite, I’m told it’s called, was found in a box of other samples.”

  They nodded again but again said nothing, so he went on.

  “It was labeled properly, and as we noted, it came from off the RIM—outside our boundaries. I just happened to be stationed on the duty desk over at the Barony naval hall when the request from our labs came in. I knew right away what it meant to the Barony to have access to this ore, and I took it upon myself to look into the
location where the ore had come from ...”

  This was the cover story the Baroness and he had cooked up to keep the real import of the mission a secret.

  Still not a word from the two across the table.

  “The asteroid’s coordinates were easily found, and the Exeter took a quick trip. We found what you found—a no-name asteroid field, circling the planet, along with others. Some kind of collision had obviously occurred with the planet’s moon perhaps, and the moon’s asteroids were plentiful and mostly spread out around the planet still in orbit around same.

  “In that system, the only planet that lay in the Cinderella zone was empty of sentient life ... with little to make it a new colony except for birds maybe. High, high mountain ranges, long slow slopes down to heavily salted seas. No people or aliens. Little life on the ground, but yes, lots of colorful avian life.

  “You’ll love this. Our shuttle landed near a beautiful lake somewhere on one continent, and in five minutes, we were surrounded with birds—but birds that instead of having legs and talons or feet—had a ball that they rolled around on. Talk about weird.” Captain Magnusson shook his head

  Captain Magnusson picked up the chunk of Xithricite and tossed it back and forth from his right hand to his left hand. The gypsy captain and her husband kept their eyes on the Xithricite but still showed no reaction or signs of speaking.

  The captain sighed and continued with his story. “But it was the asteroid that we were interested in. We searched and found it. We saw the huge impact site on a side of the asteroid where there was a flat plain and then a rising ride of crags. The red metal meteorite hit, plowed down through those crags, and buried itself deep within. But the tail end of that meteorite was visible—we could see where someone, perhaps from the Scavenger, had helped themselves to a small sample, and it was there that we began to mine the red metal ore. Only we didn’t throw them into a box, we took them back to the Exeter for a full analysis.”

  The captain, Daika, leaned forward. “Interesting, we suppose, Captain. But so what?”

  “This is the red ore that the planet Enki—a part of the Caliphate—mines in huge quantities. It may come as a shock to you, but this ore, when smelted and refined, makes whatever it shields invulnerable to all space weapons. No plasma, laser, energy cannon can pierce the metal plates ...” he said.

  The chief mate struggled to free his arm from the iron grip of his wife as he spoke up. “While that is something we did not know, it should belong to us—the Vitsa of Iron, our clan. You would never have found it without us!” he almost shouted.

  Magnusson nodded in agreement and went on. “Yes, that is true. But in any case, we were able to take only so much of the ore. We smelted it rather poorly but did make these testing samples for a start,” he said. He reached into his bag and pulled out sheets of red metal about twenty inches long by ten inches wide. “We’ve tested these, and they are, without a doubt, Xithricite. Covering a ship with these would make it invulnerable to enemy fire—but not projectiles. It has no value for that kind of defense, but for spaceships, they do not use projectile cannons and the like. At least not yet,” he said.

  “And why do you tell us this, as it appears that you believe you own this ore and the resulting fortunes that will be made from same,” the chief mate said, his voice dripping with irony.

  Magnusson nodded. “Here’s the issue and why I’ve brought you into this. I’m way past what I can do to help anymore with this kind of undercover discovery. I need—the Barony needs—help on this, so I am going to ask you for help. After all, it’s your discovery originally, is it not?”

  That got two nods from across the table.

  “So, here’s what has to happen. You go back to this bird planet system and the asteroid; mine ore and fill up the cargo holds on your ship, bringing the ore here to Neres. I will go to the Baroness and get this plan approved, and that will allow us to accept the ore, smelt it, and forge new armor for our fleet. You will reap whatever benefits might accrue from same. You win. And the Barony wins ...” he said smoothly.

  “As do you,” Daika said, her eyes never leaving his. She sat with her back rigid on the chair. She was not happy with his proposition, but it was going to be accepted.

  He smiled at her as he fingered the red plates of metal on the tabletop. “This is good for everyone, the Vitsa of Iron as well as the Barony, yes?”

  They looked at him for a second or two, and then they both used their fingertips to touch the hammer and cogs icon on their vests at the same time, signifying they agreed.

  He smiled on the escalator ride down to the landing bay level and thought this had gone well. They’d mine the ore, he knew, and that would free the RIM Confederacy from any kind of Pentyaan blame.

  These were refugees—scavenging gypsies—with no real standing here on the RIM.

  The ride up to full admiral doesn’t appear to be so hard, he thought as he almost hummed right out loud.

  #####

  Admiral McQueen slammed his hand down on the table in front of him, and the room was startled into silence. They were all piled into the anteroom to the admiral’s suite of offices on Juno. Navy men and women from all over the RIM Confederacy perched on sofas and divans or sat on office chairs raided from the inside offices. Some even stood against the big windows, a hip leaning on the windowsill.

  The room was full of other admirals and even some heads of state, which was perhaps why the silence ensued, but McQueen broke that silence right away.

  “Pardon me for my no-nonsense approach, but we need to work on our plans and come up with answers as soon as possible,” he said.

  “Why might that be—this issue of urgency, Admiral. This alien ship has hung over Ghayth now for almost, what, ten days, and nothing has happened,” Barony Admiral Vennamo asked.

  She was right, but something was up with that ship, and McQueen knew they needed to act now. “Admiral, this is aggression of a type we have not faced—all of you know that. But the fact that they are doing nothing is not the point—they are in our space, and we need to have something to say about it.”

  An admiral in the uniform of the Hope navy spoke up. “Correct me if I’m wrong on this, please, but as I understand the position of this planet, Ghayth—it is outside the boundary limits of the RIM Confederacy,” she said as she held up a hand to go on without interruption. “Yes, those buoys will be moved over to include the Valissian system but only when Ghayth is officially a part of the Barony, yes?”

  That got nods around the table.

  Tanner spoke up then, figuring that maybe a Royal might help. “I shouldn’t have to remind any of you of the recent invasion by those reaper aliens on Memories just a few years back. That too was not a part of the RIM, but I don’t think that any of us would think that they would disappear after they mined Memories for resources. We were going to be next, so in this case, I’d plead the same kind of thinking. We need, as Admiral McQueen noted, to make up a task force with the authority to protect the RIM Confederacy and that we need to do today—right here and right now,” he said.

  Some knocked on the table while others knocked on the walls. The knocking was deafening with so many crowded into the anteroom to the admiral’s office.

  McQueen nodded. He continued with the stats about the aliens. At this time, they had yet to learn much about the potential enemy. “So far, in ten days, we have hailed them hundreds of times. No answer.

  “We have sent over a shuttle three times, I believe, and they get about a mile or so off the alien landing bay doors and hit the alien force field.

  “We have sent a probe that also cannot get past the force field either.

  “We are monitoring their ship, but we see nothing—no communications, no Ansible—nothing to show that there is even anyone home.

  “It hangs there, does nothing, but does show a posture that we can imagine might turn adversarial, so I ask that we, here today, work out the details of a task force to go and stand off their front door,
waiting. Waiting but poised to take full attack action should that present itself.

  That got some more knocks, and the Ttseen admiral in the room howled his agreement.

  “If I may,” Admiral Vennamo said, “would it be agreeable to the group if we—the Barony—took on the leadership position as the head of the new task force? Guess that would be me on the Gibraltar. We’d like, too, for there to be a heavy showing of firepower at our side too,” she said.

  McQueen nodded, and in the next ten minutes, plans had been laid for the new task force.

  There would be sixteen ships from navies all across the RIM Confederacy. As well, the RIM Navy would send four more to add up to a twenty-ship task force all due to assemble above Ghayth in two days. Should there be a change to current circumstances, then that would need to be sped up to handle whatever had occurred.

  Admiral Vennamo would be the task force leader, and her ship, the Gibraltar, would be the flagship.

  Tanner smiled and knew that Admiral Higgins would be chafing under the much younger task force leader, but that was to be expected.

  “Reminder. These aliens have what looks like superior technology—just try to scan their ship, and you’ll see what I mean. As well, we are to remember that aggression comes in many forms—and these are aliens to us at this point, so judge your actions accordingly.”

  That got nods around the room too.

  McQueen stood off the edge of the wide seat on the windowsill and smiled at them, but it was a very small smile. “Good luck—I’d like to be kept in the loop, Admiral” he said to the task force leader.

  Vennamo smiled at him. “Always, Admiral, always ...”

  The hastily arranged meeting broke up as the task force members went home to arrange for their new commitments.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  On the Wisp, the Praix were on downtime. Their ship sat over a planet that was not theirs nor was this even their own galaxy. They knew they were intruders, interlopers and—perhaps in the eyes of the planet—maybe even invaders. But that didn’t matter. All of the Praix were still on downtime, and none prepared for any type of defensive maneuvers.