by Jim Rudnick
Stal nodded. “Did any of you notice anything strange about that hum—that single note?” he asked.
His second in command nodded. “Yes, Sir. Blocking your ears didn’t work—we all did that as soon as the hum note started. It was like in our brains rather than our ears.”
Alver nodded. “Agreed. Let’s get things in order, Captain. Cancel today’s testing race, and send out a squad to go over the course in case we’ve some stragglers out there. I want a full roster audit too—who’s missing if anyone. I want the surgeon over in sickbay to hustle through with that diagnosis—and if that means transport back to Neres and the Barony Hospital Ship, then so be it,” he said.
He moved then with his aide, walking the paths between the tents looking for anything out of place.
Nothing.
He went to the big dining tent and saw the entire xeno team sitting there and drinking coffee. He sat with them and heard the same story. They’d been inside in one of the cargo bays when machinery, derricks, cranes, big display boards, and the like all were suddenly turned on. They’d not done it as they were having an argument, Reynolds admitted, about some item they’d found and its real and intended use.
They’d been shocked and had quickly run out of the cargo bay, across the whole ship, out the big entrance, and had assembled here since the incident. “No, we had not heard that hum or single note tone,” Reynolds said, “but I assume it had something to do with the ship ‘being plugged in all of a sudden.’”
Alver nodded. That made sense, but then if there was one thing he had long ago learned, anything alien can be anything—what made sense to one race might not be sensible to another.
He thanked Reynolds and let the xeno team know he was closing the ship to further entry by anyone and that he’d get back to the team when he had news.
He walked away toward the communications tent, and EYES ONLY messages were sent to Admiral Vennamo and the RIM Confederacy as well. While they were not a stakeholder here on Ghayth, it was still some kind of aggression—and with the alien ship up in orbit around Ghayth, Alver thought it prudent to send out notice as best he could.
“And now what’s next?” he said to himself as he reached down to massage his left calf. “What’s next?”
#####
Niels Lofton, Leudie trade master, smiled at the Customs and Duties men as they approached, and he waited with his number two and the case at his feet.
They’d landed on Neen, the capital planet of the Duchy d’Avigdor just a half hour ago and had listed as their only unloads, a present for the new duke himself. That had made the normal rollout of the usual teams who greet every ship visiting Neen stop.
He had seen the motorized carrier on its way out to the landing pad that his ship, the Tynes, had dropped down on two hours ago, suddenly veer off from its direct path to the ship. It had swung into a big arcing turn and had returned to the administration building here on the landing port.
And they’d sat and waited, first up on the boarding deck on top of some cases that were being moved around. Then after an hour, when those cases had been taken away for their spots in a cargo hold somewhere, Niels and his aide walked down the ramp. The aide had been able to handle the wooden case easily.
Now, another hour later, that carrier had started up. Clambering down from the seats in the open vehicle, the Customs man moved forward; his yellow badging on his epaulets was easy to see. He was a man of about forty, and he had wavy brown hair and a big forehead lined with what Niels thought were stripes of his office.
He nodded to the aide, faced the captain of the Tynes, and smiled. “We welcome you, Master Trader, to Neen. I understand that you have no cargo at all—inbound or outbound. Except, I understand, a present for the duke. A wedding present, perhaps a bit belatedly?” he asked.
Niels shook his head. “Not at all. I have the present right here in the case. Belts. Red metal belts—three of them—and I need to place them directly into the hands of the duke himself, I was told,” Niels said.
The Customs man was smiling, but it was obvious after a half a minute, he was waiting for more.
“We assume that a gift for the duke would fall under the ‘personal and private items’ clause of the list of items that are both allowed and not charged any duty. Taxes. Nothing at all—but here is an extra thing to consider,” he added as he took a half a step forward. “If you wish, you may certainly call out your Duchy d’Avigdor Provost guards to inspect the case—to look at the belts and make the decision if they—or rather you—think the duke should get his present from the Rulers of the Leudie Trading Rules group. It is from them that the gift comes—understand now?” he asked. Nicely. Very nicely.
The Customs man was in a bind, he knew, but as usual, when offered a way to save face, he took it like a drowning man seized a life ring. “Yes ... yes, that’s exactly what I think we’ll do. We’ll provide you transport over to the ducal palace, arrange for them to know that you’re coming—and the duke will greet you there in person if possible. We’ll let these guards just check the case if we can ...” he said as he motioned for the two Provost guards to do his bidding.
They got down off the carrier and moved over to stand at the side of the group, and one bent to open up the case. He lifted out one of the red metal belts and looked it over. He twisted it and saw there were many red metal sections linked together. He checked the buckle but didn’t touch it and then looked down into the case.
“Three belts, all look the same. No bombs, no poison, nothing that I can see would hurt our duke. Try it on,” he said pointedly to the trader in front of him, which took them all by surprise.
Niels reached out to take the proffered belt and pushed it around his waist. Wearing the Leudie cloak meant he had to move the belt a little to fit, but he snapped the buckle together. The belt is a simple ... well, a simple belt, he thought and held out his hands, palms up, and that got nods all around.
“Three belts. We will allow this to pass inspection and be admitted to Neen—and yes,” the Customs man said as he was making some notes on his tablet, “it fits under the personal and private items” clause as well. Let’s get aboard, shall we?” he said.
In moments, they were motoring across the landing pads, whipping around an Alex’n freighter, two ship’s chandlers coming out to service a Duchy Navy ship, and against the far end of the base, on pads all alone, two Barony warships.
That got a raised eyebrow; Niels knew about the latest items of news on the RIM. The alien presence over Ghayth was a big one but he’d heard no more than that.
The carrier left the gate with a wave from the Provost guard who was obviously in the loop. When the carrier got there, the bolster beam was up, and the Provost guard was saluting them by.
The salute was a bit unusual, Niels thought, but in less than ten minutes more, they were being saluted into the palace grounds, this time by a brace of four Provost guards.
Again, unusual, Niels thought as he clambered down.
“We will wait here,” the Customs officer said, and from out of the palace doors ahead, down the stairs, came two navy officers—one a master sergeant, he noted.
“Trade Master Lofton, welcome. I have been sent to accompany you to the duke himself—and my corporal here will carry that case for you as well. Gentlemen, please follow me,” he said and turned, and they followed him. Behind them, the corporal carried the case, and Niels noted he carried it as if he expected it to explode.
Maybe it will, he thought, maybe it will.
They entered the huge doors that swung open to admit them, and after going across a part of the beautiful marble floor of the palace rotunda, Niels saw the doors closing behind them. Palace AI was aware of their presence, he knew, and that was fine too.
They walked down the rotunda, veering off to the left for a bit to curl around to their right. After walking underneath a staircase, they went down that lateral hallway. Even here in areas that were not so populated with the public, there was art
on the walls—paintings, real oil paintings. Sculptures in recesses were also spotted here and there, and the rug on the floor was so thick that Niels imagined his shoes were sinking down inches into it.
The palace AI must have been watching their progress because at the end of the hallway, a solid wall in front of them disappeared. They continued to walk in an area that had been obviously kept in secure constraints. They walked. Not a word was said, and at the juncture ahead with a corridor that crossed their own, they took a left.
Niels could smell chlorine, which was odd.
At the second doorway ahead, the lead master sergeant opened the door, went a couple of feet more, and opened up an inner door as well.
The smell of chlorine grew stronger once the inner door was opened. Before him, Niels saw an indoor swimming pool complete with a wide and sunny deck off against the far windows. At the far end, what must be the shallow end of the pool, wide stairs rose up out of the pool.
Niels walked down the stairs leading to the pool’s deck. Deep end down here, he thought. The surroundings were so overwhelming that a few minutes passed before he noticed the solitary swimmer in the pool doing laps across the width of the pool.
The length of the pool looked to be fifty yards and the width about half that. As Niels and the others walked down the deck alongside the pool , the swimmer never stopped. They reached a small grouping of chaise lounges and noted a robe draped over the back of one and a pair of sandals sitting there as well.
The duke is the swimmer and so we wait. Again, Niels thought, but he never let anything show on his face. Traders learned at an early age that to show your hand before it was called was just plain stupid trading. He smiled instead, stood like the others, and waited.
Niels counted nine more laps, and then the duke stopped at the edge of the pool facing away from them. He shook his head and jammed a little finger into one ear to try to worry out some water. He pushed off the wall as he turned to his left and moved down to the shallow end of the pool, climbing the stairs slowly and shaking his head to his right as though some water there just wouldn’t drip out.
He turned the corner, saw his guests, and smiled as he walked right up to the two traders. “Trade Master Lofton—so good to see you again. Perhaps you might remember we met over on Halberd a few years back, before all that prison riot nonsense?” he said as he picked up a towel to dry himself.
Niels did remember meeting Captain Scott back then, but he was surprised the duke remembered. It had been a simple handshake at the welcome party the night before that nonsense—the prison riots that ended with the deaths of some of the rioters. As he remembered, Scott had killed some of same himself. Nonsense indeed.
“Duke. So very nice to meet you—again, Your Grace. Yes, I remember our previous meeting well, but this time, I come bearing gifts for you—from the ruling body on Leudie—the Leudie Trading Rules group,” he said with all decorum.
The duke nodded. “Yes, Trade Master, and we know that you are the newest member of that group of thirty—really, heads of state all of you—and we hope that you have time to visit with us and spend some time with us too, for a real state visit.”
“Um ... sadly, not at this time, Your Grace, but perhaps next time. As I said earlier, this time, I bring you a present. Might I ask that we perhaps limit the ears that hear what I have to say, as it’s confidential, Your Grace.”
The duke nodded and gestured, and the master sergeant and the corporal moved all the way back to the far stairs, went up same, and out of the pool room followed by the trader’s aide.
They were now alone—the duke and the trader.
The duke looked at him. “Well, Niels, what is it?” he asked.
Diplomacy time is over, Niels thought, and he opened up the case and took out one belt.
“I bring you three of these belts. We got them inwards—almost three thousand lights inwards—about a year ago. From what we can tell and what we have tested, these are force field belts. We do not understand how they are powered, nor for that matter, more than turning them on and off,” he said.
He doffed his cloak and put the belt on, and it stretched easily, the links expanding to fit it around him snugly. He reached down and behind the buckle to press the button that only appeared when the belt lay around a waist, and he clicked it to one side. Around Niels appeared a very faint glow or aura of golden mist.
“This makes the wearer invulnerable. We have tested it with every weapon that we have here on the RIM. Nothing can get through to injure the wearer of the belt. We have no idea how air gets through nor gravity for that matter either. You will pardon us though—we are traders and not lab gurus. And that is part of why we’ve decided to give these three to you,” he said.
He clicked the button once more and handed the belt to the duke after he’d taken it off.
The duke took the belt and hefted it. He looked at it over and over as he turned it around in his hands. He paid particular attention to the buckle, but it offered up no secrets that he could see.
He held it in one hand and looked over at his guest. “So, Niels ... why me?”
The trade master nodded and spread his hands out in a wide gesture. “Your Grace—we know about the discovery of the alien anti-grav device and how it was discovered as one thing but it was modified and changed by you to become the drive itself. We know that you—or perhaps your team on the Atlas—were responsible, and we are hoping that you can help one more time.
“Help? Is there an issue that you have not told me?” he said.
He’s quick, Niels thought, once again impressed with this Royal.
“Yes, not only does the belt lock out anything from getting in to harm the wearer—it also will not allow anything to leave the power belt shell either ...” he said.
The duke just looked at him. Then he gave a big nod. “Ahh ... which means that a simple robo-rifle, once trained on the wearer, will make that belt user not only invulnerable but also immobile. Without the ability to shoot at an attacker, the belt has little value. Might replace some guards at palaces, but that’s all I see,” he said, and Niels saw that he had captured the essence of the red power belt in that instant.
The duke fiddled with the belt’s buckle some more. “So, you want me to see if I can deduce how this might be changed or modified to make it an offensive weapon too. Do I have that right?”
Bingo, Niels thought as he nodded. “Your Grace, you grasp what needs to be done, and we would ask that you share this with no one but we Leudies—the Leudie Trading Rules group—we, the Rulers,” he said and waited.
The duke pondered that, and after a moment, he replied. “I will not be able to keep this as confidential as non-lab folks might want. There will need to be a whole team assigned this, and that will mean that support services like logistics, purchasing, lab equipment and supplies, and, yes, even HR and personnel too will know that ‘something is up.’ But other than that, I will make a solemn ducal promise that I let no one else know. Not anyone on the RIM Confederacy Council, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Niels bowed his head and then nodded. “Agreed, Your Grace. We know that you will succeed, and that’s not because of what happened back on Halberd or your climb in the Barony Navy or even your new dukedom. It’s because you carry what we Leudies call the luck gene, where you are at the focus of major collisions between RIM Confederacy realms, technology, aliens—the gene makes you the focal point. It’s what we believe, Your Grace. So this task should go to no one else, Your Grace,” he said, and he bowed his head one more time.
The duke was taken aback, and for a minute or so, he stared at the Leudie trader in front of him. He looked like that idea was not so new to him—but then the added weight of the luck gene had added a wrinkle that had him stumped. Or baffled. Or confused.
He looked down at the belt and then at back at Niels.
And he smiled. “Well then, I guess that I need to thank you and the Trading Rules group of Rulers. I do not know
if that supposition is true or not. But I will accept the gift of the three belts and will take a real interest in the testing of same. I will also, if you allow me to, contact you directly via EYES ONLY Ansible with any news. Will that be acceptable, Trade Master?”
Niels grinned at him.
“Absolutely, Your Grace. And might I add that this luck gene is well known on Leudie and other realms here too. If it were possible, Your Grace, I’d make you my own first mate—but alas, you’re human,” he said.
Around his collar, his neck snake had chosen this moment to stretch and swivel its location on the Leudie’s neck, and he reached up to move it to a more comfortable position and that took a second.
The duke nodded and walked with him all the way down the long side of the pool, to the stairs, and up and out to the palace proper.
Moments later, as the carrier pulled away with Trade Master Lofton and his aide, the Customs officer made pleasantries and chatted about Neen and what a great season it was for a visit and how so many Leudies arrived, unloaded, then loaded up, and went away without really learning about the planet.
Niels smiled as he listened, but his real thought was about the duke and the belts; he wondered what the outcome of this gift might be. What he was sure of was that the Duke d’Avigdor had the luck gene. What that would mean would be of great interest...
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The Duchess d’Avigdor was still a bit confused, but then that sometimes went along, as she well knew, with trying to learn exactly how she was to get around here in the new duchy palace. Walking with two aides—top aides, she’d been told these two were—meant she was slowly trying to catch on to where and what each of the almost six hundred rooms in the palace were. At least that’s what she’d been told when they left the residential area up on the fourth floor of the palace.
