by Blaze Ward
“I will know in a few minutes. Thank you. Though I must say that was hardly a fair way to handle it.” He seemed put out.
She laughed out loud. “On the contrary, had there been more than two major shipping houses on Ramsey, including Auric and Sons, I would have had to hold a lottery and let random chance determine things. This was perhaps the fairest way. Certainly the most ethical. You and each of your competitors will have the exact same goods, at the same prices. And we will post those prices tomorrow for everyone.”
She watched his pupils surge and then shrink.
“But that’s not how it’s done,” he whispered urgently.
Jessica took a step closer to the man. She came up to his shoulder, but he shrank back anyway.
“It is the way I do things, Mr. Auric,” she snarled quietly, looking up at him. “Ethical and above board. If you have had bad experiences with my peers, and I suspect you have, given my own experiences with some of them, I invite you to take it up with those people when you next see them.”
She stared at him, daring him to speak, or even breathe, wrong.
After a moment, he seemed to deflate into himself. “Touché, Command Centurion Keller,” he said, visibly relaxing. “Well played. You must understand that it is very rare for me to run into one of you Fleet types who understands business. Fewer still who see Lincolnshire as anything other than the backwoods, and the locals here as rubes to be fleeced.”
She relaxed as well, but stayed close enough to speak quietly. “Two of my uncles own farms on Ladaux, Auric. Working family farms, not latifundia.”
“Something else we have in common, then, madam,” he replied with a smile.
He paused, as if looking for the right words. Marcelle shifted slightly in her peripheral vision, now less likely to swoop in on the poor man if he provoked her.
“If I may, Command Centurion?” he whispered politely, with a previously unheard urgency.
She nodded, keyed back up. This was probably the entire reason for the previous conversation.
“Regardless of what you hear from other sources,” he continued obliquely, “all is not well in Lincolnshire, or even just Ramsey. A visit to Sarmarsh IV would probably be an interesting and educational experience for you. Take an entire fleet when you go, however.”
She stepped half a step back to see him better. He seemed sincere, but that was possibly just another act.
“Why, Mr. Auric?” she asked simply.
He shrugged. “One grows tired of having to pay bribes for safe passage of vessels and goods, Command Centurion, even here in the capital city. I would like to see something done about the criminal elements, but I am not in a position to do anything myself. And I am a patriot. It would do everyone on the perimeter good, which, in turn, is good for business.”
“I see,” she replied. “And why would I receive different intelligence from other sources?”
“A few elements, local ones, profit from the current arrangement.” He shrugged. “I do not do poorly, but I could profit more without them. Also, Lincolnshire is my home. I would like to see it succeed. The locals cannot handle that task. It is one of the reasons the governor asked Aquitaine for help.”
Jessica nodded at that. “I will see what I can arrange, Mr. Auric.”
It was, after all, why she was here. But best not to tell the locals the whole truth. Not yet.
Chapter VI
Date of the Republic September 24, 393 City of Lincoln, Ramsey
Jessica watched the sun go down through the big picture window as she entered the governor’s office. It had been an entertaining, mostly–vapid afternoon, but now came the interesting part.
The governor of Ramsey looked like a politician was supposed to, according to all the popular videos. Tall and reasonably good–looking, with a full head of hair and perfect teeth. His middle was getting thick from sitting at a desk. She suspected there was a girdle in his immediate future. Or possibly surgery.
Jessica supposed she was supposed to swoon for him, based on the looks he had been giving her across the room during the reception. This man did represent the apex of the social pyramid for the entire region.
She probably should have researched that aspect of the man more thoroughly.
Jessica sighed internally, tired of all the attempts at seduction she had been subjected to in one day. They hadn’t even been all that bad–looking for the most part, but there were none here that really got her attention. There usually weren’t. It came with the territory.
Jessica pasted that same neutral smile on her face and took the guest chair. They quickly waded through the inane chatter and inconsequentials.
She regretted not having either Marcelle or Enej with her, but Governor Wapasha had requested a private meeting. No aides, no recordings. No records.
“So, Governor,” she said when she could finally break through his small talk, “First Lord Kasum has asked that my task force be put at your disposal to help Lincolnshire with a piracy problem. What might we do?”
She watched him shift uncomfortably in his chair. He slid open a drawer and pulled out a small device that he thumbed active. It began to make an irritating buzz as he set it on his desk.
She raised an eyebrow at him silently.
“I don’t believe my office is entirely secure,” he began. “This will hopefully distract the sensors for a bit.”
“Your own office?” she inquired, suddenly very serious.
“Indeed, Ms. Keller. Perhaps my own staff. It’s hard to say. Even this will cause some friction and trouble.”
“I see,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “And you can’t stop them?”
“It would be impolitic to try, at the present time,” he smiled at her grimly. “I am still an elected official, subject to the forces and whims of the wealthy merchant classes funding a challenger if I am too much of a threat. Or perhaps undertake a more direct method.”
“So the stories about the rise in crime on this planet…?”
“Are true,” he completed her sentence. “I’m sure the causes are mostly off–planet elements, but they have wormed their way into the power structure here.”
“But if the pirates in the neighborhood were broken?” she asked
“Then I would have a much freer hand to try and make changes,” he completed the thought. “As it is, you have seen the number of guards around the palace, and the bodyguards accompanying people today. Fix the one, and it should fix the other. There are several places you might look. My favorite would be 9621 Jordani III.”
Jessica nodded, holding a map of the area encompassed by Lincolnshire in her mind.
“On the main trade route to Aquitaine,” she observed. “Close enough to threaten Ramsey and a few other worlds.”
He nodded.
She paused to study the man’s face. “A little bird at the reception suggested I might also try Sarmarsh IV,” she continued quietly. “Do you have anything on Sarmarsh IV? Colony? Mining Station?”
She was rewarded by a surprised blink before the man got his face back under control.
“Nothing.”
“That would be much closer to Corynthe, Governor Wapasha,” she said.
“It would also suggest that Salonnia is conspiring with Corynthe to threaten us and using piracy as a cover,” he replied nervously. “And that the trouble we have been having are of a much more political nature than they appear.”
“Indeed it would,” she said carefully. “What would be your orders if we found something like that there?”
His face grew serious.
“Anyone you found at a place like Sarmarsh would be pirates, Keller,” he said. “Not just thugs with guns, but honest–to–Creator enemy agents. We have had a lot of trouble in that vicinity. Anything you can do to remove them would help with trade. It will probably also help here on Ramsey.”
“Is it as bad as that on the surface here?” she asked pointedly.
“Things have been better, Commander,
” he replied. “I asked Aquitaine for help specifically because I do not know who can be trusted here. You, however, should be safe. I’ve seen your assistant and your bodyguards. Nobody would dare attack you.”
Jessica nodded with a sour mouth. She leaned forward and covered the man’s hand and the small jammer device with her own hand. ”––Jordani III,” she said as she pushed the button to turn it off. “I will take that under advisement, Governor. It will be a good exploration cruise for my crew.”
He scowled at her, confused, and shook his head.
She responded by gesturing to the room around them with a serious face of her own, before letting a small smile through.
“It has been a pleasure, Governor,” she said as she rose from her chair. “I expect we will take a few days at Ramsey to load supplies, and then run a patrol route as a familiarization drill. Perhaps we can scare off your pirates along the way.”
“I see,” he said with sudden understanding. He rose as well and shook her hand. “Happy hunting, if I do not see you again. Hopefully you will visit us occasionally.”
He walked her to the door and held it open as she departed.
Jessica waited for the door to close behind her, eyes locked in tight on Marcelle across the room. She nodded once and strode out of the office without a word. Marcelle fell into step beside her, the taller woman’s longer legs easily letting her keep up.
When they emerged into the twilight air, Jessica turned to her steward, her dog–robber. “We have ground transportation?”
Marcelle nodded, turned, and took the lead. One of Auberon’s marines guarded a ground vehicle parked to one side, eyes active and weapon bared. For once, Jessica was happy that her crew was a little paranoid.
Marcelle and the marine, faceless and nameless behind a lowered faceshield, climbed into the front of the vehicle as Jessica got in back. “We need to find Moirrey, right now.”
“Affirmative,” Marcelle said as she brought the vehicle into motion. “I have her itinerary.”
“Good,” Jessica said simply. She reached into a pocket of her jacket and brought out a secured comm. “Cayenne, this is Keller.”
“Go ahead,” Gaucho, the crazy DropShip commander, replied almost instantly.
“What’s your window to emergency launch, Dyson?” Jessica asked.
“Four minutes if you want polite, commander. Thirty–five seconds if you’re paying for the damages.”
“Roger that, Cayenne. Recall your crew and stand by. You may have to be the cavalry tonight.”
“Yee–haw,” came the call back.
Chapter VII
Date of the Republic September 24, 393 City of Landing, Ramsey
Moirrey watched the big rig with Commander Keller depart, flying low and sedately towards the capital city, itself sitting perched on the hill looking down on Landing.
It felt good to be home.
She could tell she’d been away for too long. Landing had seemed a huge and vastly magical place when she left for the Republic. Now it were a little backwater port on a littler backwater world. Hopefully, her Ma’s fresh lemonade would cure her of such jaded thoughts. How will you ever keep them on the farm, when they’ve been to gay Paris?
Moirrey shook her head and patted the messenger bag she had slung over one shoulder. Two stops in Lincoln, and then sixteen hours of leave to visit her kin folk. And she didn’t even have to change cash. Aquitaine Levs were used as a second currency for everything around here.
A quick walk to the corner and she placed a call home. Ma and Pa were honest surprised to hear from their wandering daughter, but overjoyed. Uncle Detrin or Cousin Dale would come into town in a few hours and meet her to bring her home for dinner, once she was off duty.
Moirrey smiled. Her, the prodigal daughter, home from the big, bad universe and showing off. And being shown off. She wondered if they would invite Tommy. He was probably married off and had a whole gaggle of young’uns by now. Probably married Missy.
She laughed out loud and walked down to the bus stop. It was amazing what six years might do to someone. She had turned into one of them fancy Aquitaine folks, without even trying. Or looking. Stranger days.
At least the buses hadn’t changed one iota. Big, dumb lumbering beasts powered by local–brewed kelp–alcohol. Filled with people too poor or transient to afford big shiny flitters or personal zip–bikes. Her old hand–me–down zip–bike from Uncle Detrin would be daft fun right now. Too bad they’d been no way to bring it with her. Maybe she should get Lady Keller to ride one, or Flight Centurion Dyson. He might go for keeping a few down on the flight deck for things. And the Commander might just enjoy the power, she were that kind of lady. Moirrey sat primly and thought wickedly–silly thoughts as she rode slowly up the hill.
Ξ
Moirrey sighed at lost dreams as she finally got to the ridge.
The Ramsey Agricultural Institute sat on the brow of the hill, around the side to the right from Landing. Someone, back when the town were laid out, had decided the capital needed a right proper university, so they’d picked out a spot with a pretty view and built several big gray stone buildings, just like a big world would do. Ivy didn’t grow much here, but the rest were straight out of a fairie book like her Ma had read to her, once upon a time.
The big bus dropped her off with a big burp of kelp fumes that kind of embraced her like a big, smelly hug.
Moirrey blinked rapidly as she staggered out of the pocket fog and looked around. There was only one bus stop for the big campus, and she’d never actually been here before, but she had studied the map before she set out. And it were a weekday, so everyone would be around.
The building she wanted was third down on the right of the big quad. Students lounged, even on a cold day like this, some studying, some playing a game with an inflated ball, two necking in an alcove out of the breeze.
One enterprising soul was apparently cooking lunch on a hibachi about the size of her shoe. Not that she had ever done something like that, no sir.
Somebody wolf–whistled at her as she walked past, but she didn’t have the time or inclination to stop and say hi.
Moirrey looked at the faces as she passed, wondering wistfully at the crevasse of time that separated her from these bright–faced youngsters who were all of three or four years younger than her. And had most likely never been shot at by anybody, especially not Imperial Battleships.
She giggled. And certainly never shot back. She giggled some more.
Six years on starships had done her legs good. The twelve broad steps up the front of the building were easy going. Inside, there was a large foyer with more students studying, snacking, napping.
Moirrey found the board along one wall, located the name she wanted, and took the stairs two at a time to the second floor. If she’d had thought about how many young men were going to be around today, she might, just might, have worn civilian attire instead of her day uniform. Maybe something with leggings and a tunic that would show off a tantalizing amount of bottom as she pounded up all these stairs with the over–stuffed messenger bag bouncing on her butt.
She giggled yet more.
Let’s see. Offices on the left are low numbers. Not this one. Nope. A–ha.
The door was open. The space was barely big enough for a small desk and two overflowing bookshelves. And one young woman, eyes down, reading. One very pregnant woman with brown hair pulled into a pony tail. Hugely pregnant. Like winter–turkey–about–to–pop pregnant.
Moirrey smiled. “All that reading’s probably bad for you, you know,” she said casually.
The woman looked up and did a double–take. “Moirrey!” she cried, lurching up out of the chair and wobbling around the desk to engulf the much smaller woman in a giant hug.
Moirrey eventually emerged from the hug to poke the big belly.
“This is an agricultural college, Dina,” she said with a tease. “Hasn’t anyone explained to you where those come from?”
Dina l
aughed with her head back, the sound ringing off the walls and down the hallway.
“And you?” Dina asked, reaching out to touch Moirrey’s collar with her rank tab and then the Auberon patch on her left shoulder. “You went off and became a great, big hero.”
“I did no such thing, missy,” Moirrey countered.
“You did, Pint–Sized,” Dina said with another laugh. “It was in the paper, even. Your ship saving the day from the big Imperial bad guys.”
“No way.”
“Truth,” Dina concluded. “So, how did you get here?”
Moirrey directed Dina back to her own chair and then moved a pile of books from the other chair, hidden in the mess, into the hall so she could sit.
“We’re in town for a few days, passing through,” Moirrey replied lightly. “Our Commander likes me something fierce, and asked me to bring you a prize.”
“Me?”
“Well, not you in particular, but I have a couple of things for the Institute that she thought would be fun and useful, and I got a day off to bring them over, quiet–like, while she hobnobs with the governor and folks.”
“Do you now?” Dina asked slyly.
“Aye,” Moirrey said as she opened the messenger bag and pulled out a barely smaller, rolled bag from inside.
She and Dina worked seamlessly to move books around until the desk was mostly flat and kinda clean. Moirrey unrolled the satchel until she got to a piece of paper stuffed in the middle.
“There you go,” Moirrey said as she handed Dina the paper. “Inventory of stuff for the seed library.”
Dina scanned the list quickly and then looked at her former best friend with a dropped jaw. “Where did you get this stuff, Moirrey? This is amazing.”
“T’were Commander Keller’s doing, Dina,” Moirrey replied. “She asked the folks at the University of Ladaux to put you together a care package she could deliver. Things that would grow here. Special things nearly lost when the Homeworld was destroyed.”
“For us?” Dina said, still amazed.
“Well,” the tiny woman muttered, “I might’ve called in a favor or two along the way. But she does like me something fierce, so it were a good way to do it.”
