by Jim Rudnick
"But I'm sure you've done as good as you can—could you at least have someone show us to our area then, please?" he said and let the clerk off easily.
No sense in starting out with any kind of an issue just gone by, Tanner thought, and he followed the small group of Atlas personnel as they went into the huge drill hall that was so big it could hold the Atlas.
And they stopped. Cold. Tanner and Bram caught up with the group leaders and then they stopped.
Ahead of them by a hundred yards or so, on the floor, sat more than two hundred refugees, grouped somehow, which he didn't yet understand. Every single eye was turned on the small Atlas contingent. Every single face seemed to be carved out of stone, sober, quiet, and yet somehow very observant.
Tanner nodded to his Atlas Science officer, Lieutenant Commander Karl Sheldon and urged him over. "Quick ten-fifty-nine here, Karl?"
"Aye, Sir. Human or humanoid, average height and weights—estimates only, within our own racial range. Male, female, young infants, and yes, I did see some older ones too. Dress appears to be—well, I have no word for it, but sort of 'medieval' warrior might do. Leather type short jackets, breastplates on many too with that same hammer and cogs type of icon. Not a hat in the room far as I could see, hair color appears to be ranging from browns to blacks, though I did see a couple of blonds and of course, aged salt and pepper too. Boots, almost on all, leather, it appears, and I think this race likes studs on their clothing as the jackets, breastplates, pants or leggings, and yes, boots too all appear to have same. I note no projectile sidearms, plenty though of knives and dagger-type bladed weapons. And I've no idea as to why they appear to not have a 'head' smaller group up front as all are seated in some other kind of grouping—trades perhaps, military rankings seems unlikely, maybe even familial groups like patriarchy or matriarchy clans," he said and then drifted back to the far right-hand side of the small Atlas group
"Have to agree—he got it all, I think," Bram said quietly.
As they stared at the refugees, Tanner saw his team was setting up their own chairs and tables which, if he remembered correctly, would then put their faces higher than the refugees—a diplomatic faux pas on the refugee side for sure. Maybe that time spent on Enki with Ambassador Harmon hadn't been such a waste.
Tanner and Bram now ambled over to sit in the center of the eight-person table and faced the refugees at an angle. As he got comfortable, he noted that in the center, facing the refugees directly, was the table that would hold the gerent himself and some other courtiers too. He'd never met the man who ruled KappaD, so if nothing else, that would be of value today. And the last table was obviously for RIM Confederacy realms. The Lady St. August would be sitting there, as would the RIM Navy representative, the Caliphate representative, and others he hadn't identified yet.
It took another half hour for all those chairs to be filled, and he made sure to wave back politely to the Lady St. August as she waved at him with the same degree of politeness. That almost got him another elbow from his Adept officer, but he squashed that memory as soon as it came to mind.
Moments later, in came the royal procession—the Gerent Northos Phtuki, with only three other nobles. There were none of the normal clerks or administration or underlings that would be needed to handle all of the details that any kind of refugee application would entail.
Obviously, I'm not in the loop, he thought and sat back to see what would unfold.
And he was surprised almost at once.
From a grouping of refugees about halfway back in the huge area that they were all congregated in, a woman rose, walked to the front of the refugees, and faced the gerent.
She stood almost six feet in height. She wore boots, leggings, and a breastplate over the short jacket with that same hammer and cogs icon. At her waist were two daggers, one about a half foot longer than the other. Coal-black hair waved down to her shoulders, and makeup of some type made her deep green eyes stand out even at this distance. That gave him some pause, as the official person to speak first for the refugees would be a woman? Hey, different streets for different feets, and somehow he knew this afternoon was going to be different.
"My name is Daika Rossum—the captain of our ship the Scavenger. We, the Vitsa of Iron, officially ask to become refugees on the RIM Confederacy. We know your laws and we hereby invoke the right to become those refugees, and we name the Barony of Neres as our chosen realm."
Her voice didn't change or show any inflection either, Tanner noted. She spoke excellent English. She looked at only the gerent when she spoke, but clearly, the choice of realm was not missed by anyone.
The gerent nodded. He turned to speak to someone on his right, then stood, and faced the woman.
"Captain ... Captain Rossum, thank you for your succinct refugee application. On behalf of the RIM Confederacy, I have been empowered by our RIM Confederacy Council to accept your application and to take all the necessary steps to help you make your presentation to the full Council very soon," he said and sat.
Everyone sat. No one had anything else to say—which was not lost on the refugees.
The captain turned her back on the gerent, and many from the RIM flinched at that lack of protocol but said not a word. She looked over her complete group of fellow refugees and held up a hand palm up.
Nothing happened, Tanner noted, so if that meant “anyone want to speak,” then it was a question with no answer.
They stood en masse, gathered up what Tanner could see were wonderfully colored blankets, throws, spreads, and mats in gorgeous colorations and weavings. More artsy than dagger carrying—good to know too.
All the refugees were now filing out of the drill hall,the groupings still pretty much together. Old and young, mothers, fathers, youngsters too.
He felt a hand on his arm and turned to face the refugee captain.
"We know, Captain Scott, who you are. And we wish to speak to you—in private, please, at your convenience. There is much to tell, and you are the only trusted RIM captain we know. Please contact us when you have time, Captain—tomorrow or the next day would be good, yes?" she said, and before he could even answer, she joined the last of the refugees. He noted she went last. Leaders in nature, he knew, usually followed the group, managing from the rear.
At the doorway, she spun to look at the more than half empty drill hall; then she caught his eye, nodded to him, turned, and stalked out of the door.
Hmm ... he thought, there is so much more here than what had just happened ...
#####
Tanner moved away from his ready room console and considered his recent Ansible call to Ghayth and Major Stal.
While it had been good to chat with him about the urbanization of that planet and all the issues that went along with that—the real reason he had called was to see if Alver could get away and come down to KappaD. Turned out, the major had said that as the BN Gibraltar, under Captain Eleanor Vennamo, had just about finished a resupply trip, he would hitch a ride with them down to Neres and then on to KappaD as quick as he could. It would take about a month with some slippage due to connections, but yes, he'd gladly report to the Atlas as soon as possible. Leaving a quickly growing society and culture was one thing he said he wouldn’t miss, but there was a new girl on his horizon, the daughter of the Base-5 commander, whom he would miss. He had quickly laughed and then said see you soon to Tanner and logged out.
Okay, so a few weeks ‘til Stal is here, and that's a good thing—never met a better marine, he thought. No matter what came down the pike, the Atlas would be ready for same.
He tossed back the balance of the tea in his plas-cup and grinned at himself. Replacing coffee with tea had worked. Sort of. Same stuff, really, when double sugars and creams were added, and he didn't know if he could even tell the difference anymore.
As he rose to go back to the bridge, he took a moment to look out of the huge viewport at the partial planet below and beyond it, inward toward the galaxy itself. As the Atlas was on the deck, th
is had been taped when they had first arrived on KappaD at high orbit, and he'd called for the tape to be run in his ready room all the time. He watched it for a few moments.
With the huge gap of empty blackness to one side as this tip of the arm was behind him, the huge multicolored billions of stars that all were concentrated around the center of the Milky Way lay ahead. To one side, he could easily see Pentyaan space and the dozens of suns that lay inward. To the other side, he saw the nebula in which the planet Memories lay—thick swirling clouds of colored gas and bits of whatever that nebula had been in its previous life. The boundary buoys for the RIM were out there too, but too tiny for him to see, yet their placement was a reminder that, once again, like Ghayth, Memories lay outside the boundary of the RIM Confederacy.
“Thank God,” he said to himself, “that this argument is left to the Council—my job is just to follow orders.”
He realized he might have to mention to someone that he wanted his major on KappaD—which brought a smile to his face as he knew he could simply ask the Lady St. August. While he'd not been alone with her in more than a week, he might just walk over to the Sterling and ask for an ... ask for ... an audience.
That's the proper Royal protocol term, he thought and that damn smile wouldn't go away.
Swoosh. The pocket door retracted, and he went back onto the bridge to the coffee station for a fill-up on his tea.
The crew ignored him as he poured the tea and then added in his tea fixings, and he had a circumspect moment to look them all over.
His helm officer, so assigned to always be on the same shift as him, was Lieutenant Cooper, who was working on something on his console.
His Ansible officer was the usual Lieutenant Irving—Nancy, with whom he'd spent some recent harrowing times on the Barony Hospital Ship. She smiled at him but continued to use her throat mic to speak to other ship departments too.
Bram, his Adept officer, sat to the far left as he looked back on the bridge, and he was busy with something on his tablet, his attention focused there, but he waved as he acknowledged Tanner's review of staff. Nothing better than having a mind reader for a best friend. He grinned.
Passing over the captain’s chair led him to what the bridge crew called the Royal seat—filled only with VIPs to the bridge, so now it sat empty.
Behind Bram, in the Science command area, Lieutenant Commander Karl Sheldon sat busy with something else, but Tanner saw he had a stack of tablets on his side desk probably for review. Karl was a good man, very knowledgeable, and as far as Tanner was concerned, science was a necessary part of any starship and its functionality.
Beside Karl, at the Atlas tactical station, Kondo Lazar, the ship's XO, was also busy working on something on his monitor. Tactical was the center from which all Atlas weaponry and battle stations manpower was managed—and Kondo fulfilled that role admirably.
Farther to the right, were the double stations of Wing commander and Marine commander, where Colonel Richards, his able Air Force commander sat, and today there was a new marine—Captain Anderson, who caught his eye and nodded before he went back to his files. Once Alver arrived, that spot would be filled by him. When it came right down to it—the Atlas had the best bridge crew, for sure.
Sitting in his captain’s seat, he only glanced at the pile of report icons flashing in the sidebar on his console monitor and then leaned back to have a hearty sip of tea.
"Sir, incoming Ansible from the Scavenger—from her captain, we're notified," Lieutenant Irving said.
"On screen and answer" he replied, and the bridge front view-screen suddenly showed the face—rather pretty face, he thought—of Captain Rossum. If she was on the Scavenger bridge, then there was no one seated behind her, so maybe this was the ship's ready room.
"Captain Rossum, good of you to call. What can the Atlas do for you?" he said very politely.
She stared at him for only a second or two, yet he felt like she'd just scanned him, the bridge crew, and maybe the whole ship. This woman is focused, he thought.
"Captain Scott, good of you to take my call. When you're a Roma, you get pretty used to those 'do not disturb' auto-responders. Might I suggest that we arrange for you to come up to the Scavenger for that talk—oh and tour, of course, as well?" she asked.
He nodded which put the call on mute, as per bridge protocols, and spoke to his XO.
"Kondo, anything else in the way big time for tomorrow, say in the AM?" he queried.
He heard some keystrokes on the XO's console and the XO answered, "Nothing not movable, Sir."
Tanner nodded again and the call went off mute. "I am more than agreeable to that, Captain. Let's say we'll shuttle up to your ship by mid-morning—that suit?" he answered.
Getting the agreement and then passing off the call to his helm for the landing port essentials, he smiled as the screen in a few more seconds went back to the same high orbit tape of the planet and star fields around KappaD.
"Sir," his Science officer said, asking for a moment.
Tanner half-turned to his right and sipped again on his tea as he nodded to Sheldon.
"Sir, she mentioned 'Roma' which I've just Gallipedia'd, and it's a fairly interesting term—shall I fill this in?"
Again, Tanner nodded and Science had the floor.
"Sir—Roma is short for 'lovari roma,' a term used to define those that speak with Romani dialects—modern culture just uses the term 'gypsy.' Known for their original skill as metalworkers, tinsmiths, woodworkers, carpenters, and with horses—an older name for a four-legged animal about eight feet tall, they are also respected for their love of dance, music and singing as well."
He paused before going on and Tanner could see that his whole crew was listening. New societies were always interesting too, he thought.
"Normal division of labor meant that there used to be clear-cut work roles for males and females—and in this case, the captain is a female. But Roma society is also very well known for the values that they place on their families and extended families too—which are called Tsigni Vitsa. Even though at times they may live apart, they continued to associate and remain in constant contact too. These Vitsas form the basis of their families’ economic ties as well, Gallipedia reports that has been a constant for thousands of years. Perhaps why their captain proclaimed that she spoke on behalf of the Vitsa of Iron."
He went on further too.
"Kinship in a Vitsa can be reckoned bilaterally, although it did say that patriliny is the usual basis, but on top of that, their society is cognatic—kinship links are not distinguished by gender. They do have though, and I'm quoting here, as it appears to be outside what little we have seen of the refugee leader, a governing body, called a Kris or council of elders who decide on disputes between families within the Vitsa as well. Gallipedia has little else on the term 'Roma,' Sir, but it did note that they have a societal history that goes back thousands of years—even before the big expansion into the galaxy too," he said and then was quiet.
So was the rest of the bridge crew, who got back to their chores and, like Tanner, perhaps digested what Science had just reported on.
Whoever said that spaceship captaining was a boring career hadn't ever been out to the RIM, Tanner thought as he sipped on his tea.
#####
The meeting was to be held in the gerent’s palace, and the Atlas group faced the palace guards with a degree of displeasure.
"Sir," the guard captain, his charcoal uniform spotless and pressed with all badging polished to the Nth degree, said to Tanner, "as the leader of this group, I ask you, Sir, to please stow your sidearms here at the gates for the duration of your visit to the palace. AI is set to just shoot first and not to challenge any arms on anyone not in a palace guard uniform, Sir. They will be fully secure—the Lady St. August's EliteGuards who just went in a few minutes ago did so, Sir. It's standard practice on KappaD, Sir," he said, his tone trying to be pleasant. Tanner knew that he was correct that the AI was on a hair-trigger setting
.
"We too shall comply—men?" he said and he unstrapped his own Colt and added it to the bin that a guard passed in front of the four of them. Kondo the XO added his own stunner, Bram his Colt, and Science Officer Sheldon some kind of an alien-looking revolver. Grunting, as he was the last in line, he keyed in his thumbprint on the guard's tablet, and the weapons were taken away from the access point to a side building.
"Thank you, Captain Scott, and your men too. When you come back, they'll be here safe and sound," he added.
Tanner grunted and thought, Bloody well better be.
The large vehicle-stopping gate bar was lifted, and the four Atlas crew walked in behind the palace guard who was to guide them to the audience. Yes, it's called an audience, Tanner tried to remember.
As they walked, he also tried to remember how many palaces he'd actually been in. The duke's, of course, over in the Duchy d’Avigdor. The Barony palace. “And this one—makes three,” he said to himself, “and that's, I guess, more than most.”
Ahead of the small group, the access road curled to its left in a long swooping turn. At the very front of the palace, Tanner had to admit it looked like KappaD was a rich realm. Solid granite columns flowed up from a portico that was broad and yet not so narrow as they supported the over-structure that was a huge triangular arch of stone. One piece too, it looked like, and he wondered how the hell stonemasons had ever gotten that puppy up there.
As they mounted the long set of stairs, huge doors appeared ahead, made of what looked like wood, but he'd never seen wood like that before. Ribbed with huge flutes that must be the tree's grain, the valleys were full of burls and the hills were like polished copper.
He grinned. A Royal just had to say how much better they were than everyone else.
That got him a sideways nod from Bram who strode along at his side.
As they passed through the doors, a dozen servants or aides met them. As the guard turned back to the doorway to wait outside, Tanner guessed, one of those aides spoke.
