by Rob Buckman
“Shit!” Was all the sergeant said as he released the magnetic cuffs.
“So, what's your story, Mr. Tregallion?” The Captain asked through clenched teeth.
It took several explanations, and a lot of questions before the police were somewhat satisfied, but in the end, reluctantly, they had to let Mike and Jenks go. They promised a forensic exam of the robo-cab’s computer systems but even a cursory examination showed that Mike was telling the truth. Even the Captain broke out in a cold sweat when he realized the implications of Mike’s story. He looked up at the concrete overhead as if seeing the small fusion reactor and the transformers up there. If, as Mike had predicted, the cab had shot off the rail at better than two hundred miles an hour and crashed into the power generating station up there, the resulting explosion would have taken out the terminal and several blocks of residential housing. Under those circumstances, Mike’s actions seemed mild and necessary by comparison. Once released, Mike tapped in the same number on his porta-comp as the police captain.
“By the way, Captain,” Mike spoke softly and he stepped closer to the police Captain, “you might want to get your tech people to check the rest of the space port robo-cabs in case the same booby trap is in their system as well.” The Captain gave him an appeasing look and nodded.
“Good idea. Better to be safe than sorry.” Touching two fingers to the peak of his cap in salute, he walk away and spoke with his computer tech.
“Yes?” A soft, Avalon accented female asked. Her perfect face filled the small screen of Mike’s porta-comp unit. One look was all it took, and a broad smile lit her face. “Mr. Tregallion. Thank you for calling in so promptly. I take it the police have released you?”
“Yes, they have, very reluctantly I might add.”
“From seeing the commotion on the news feed, I can well understand that. I have ground transportation on its way to you as we speak, sir.”
“Good, but I’m not here on any official business you understand. Just wanted to get out and stretch my legs a bit so to speak.” He answered gruffly imitating Max Tregallion as best he could.
At the moment, Mike thought it best to keep up the grumpy old man act, and after meeting the real Max Tregallion it wasn’t hard to imitate him. The fact that he was the spitting image of Max helped, and a thin synthetic skin facemask to simulate age and coloring his hair to make it salt and pepper, like the real Max, was all that was needed.
“Damn it. I screwed up, Jenks.”
“What… how, Skipper.”
“Trying to be too smart. I thought we could sneak into London and just come to the Free Traders Guild Hall and vanish inside with no one the wiser. I should have ordered up the Embassy transport the moment we landed.”
“So, this is bad?”
“Not sure. Only everyone in London will know I’m here… well, Max Tregallion is here now.” He said, eyeing the hovering news feed cam drones.
“When you say everyone, you mean the bloody Sirriens, don’t you.”
“Right the first time. I’m betting they’d love to take a shot at old Max, if they haven’t already.”
“I don’t suppose this would be a good time to request a leave on compassionate grounds would it, Skipper.”
“And what would the compassionate grounds be, Corporal Silverman?” Mike smiled.
“Getting my ass shot off hanging around you.” He snorted.
“Forgot to wear your armored underwear did you?”
“With all due respect to your exalted position as Captain. Up yours.” He grouched hating it when Mike guessed the reason. He had forgotten to put his vest on.
They didn’t have to wait in the arrival lounge long before a cavalcade of ground transports arrived having come roaring in with blue and white lights flashing. Two armored vehicles in front and back and an armored limo squeezed between them.
“Now that’s what I call service,” Jenks commented. “I get the feeling that this bloke, Max Tregallion, is some sort of bigwig where you come from, Skipper.”
“You could say that. He owns the whole damn planet,” Mike chuckled.
“He what… wait… Avalon.” Jenk blinked and looked up at his captain. “You’re telling me you’re impersonating the bloke who owns Avalon?” Mike looked down and smiled. “Lord love a duck… what happens when they find out you’re not him?”
“Oh, I think they’ll understand, considering he’s my great grandfather.”
“Wait a minute. Your name is Grayson… Gray… whatever.” Jenks spluttered.
“It’s a little complicated. My mother’s name was Gray. My dad’s was Tregallion, but there was a time when my grandparents didn’t see eye to eye on a few things, so I use my mother’s maiden name instead.” Conner Blake was the only one that knew the truth, and apparently he hadn’t said a word about what happened on Avalon after their visit.
“That’s a clear as mud.” Jenks grumbled as the cavalcade came to a halt and twenty odd men and women exited the cars and surrounded Mike and Jenks.
“Mr. Tregallion, sir. It’s good to meet you.” Mike recognized the gorgeous female from the porta-comp and held his hand out.
“Nice to meet you as well. This gentleman is Jenks Silverman and he’s my… um… companion.” Hearing, Jenks snort.
“Welcome, Mr. Silverman.” The slightly puzzled expression on her face spoke volumes. Mike eyed the security team, all facing outward, weapons hidden under the long ballistic armor coats they were wearing.
Even the local armed Bobbies looked a little nervous seeing their lips move as they reported the incident to their HQ. It wasn’t unusual in this day and age to see armed security teams guarding important businessmen or government officials, but they didn’t usually see this many unless it was a head of state. One of the guards opened the rear door of the limo while another tried to take the bags Jenks was holding.
“Let them have them, Jenks. I think we are safe here.”
“Heard that one before.” Jenks sniffed.
The drive through London was fairly rapid, with the blue and white lights flashing on top of the lead cars. To Mike’s eye London lived up to its reputation in many ways, but he felt that a lot of the more modern buildings jarred a little with most of the older historical buildings surrounding them. They passed Buckingham Palace and for a moment Mike looked wistfully at the building. So close and yet so far away. Now all he had to do was get a message inside without anyone knowing it. The drive took them past Whitehall and the parliament buildings hearing the redolent tones of Big Ben striking the half hour as they did. A short while later Mike spotted the Tower of London and tower bridge, and for a moment the long history of this place swept through his mind. The original tower was built by William the Conqueror in 1078 and over the next one thousand or so years was used for many things beside a fortress. Even today it was used to house the fabled crown jewels. Mike was betting that the little monocle wearing twit Prince Philip was having wet dreams about putting the King’s crown on his head once his Navy successfully invaded the Sol system. Hopefully his trip to Avalon to have ships built there for the Royal Navy wasn’t too little, too late. The rest of the trip to the Romanesque looking building of the Free Traders Guild Hall and the unofficial Avalon Embassy went without incident, and as predicted, the moment one Max Tregallion stepped in the front door of the Guild hall all hell broke loose behind the scenes.
“So, Mr. Tregallion. What is your impression of what happened?” Victoria Dennison asked as she motioned them to seats in her office. “This is Allen Albright, my assistant.” They shook hands all round before taking seats. Victoria’s office was spacious and well appointed with several pieces of good artwork on the walls and a wall-sized smart screen on one side showed a well remembered view from Atlas Mountain on Avalon with lots of mountains in the background and a small, sparkling blue lake on the other side of a grassy meadow. Mike sat in one of the comfy-looking, easy chairs smiling slightly as Allen Albright took up a position to the side. When they shook h
ands neither squeezing hard out of habit and care for people with more fragile bones.
Like most Free Trader Guild Halls the place was lavish and comfortable on the ground floor, meant mainly to impress visitors and make them feel at ease at the same time. Most of the actual day-to-day trading went on there, while the upper floors were reserved for visiting captains and their crews. These were furnished in a spartan style more to their liking and in keeping with the quarters aboard their ships. Very few visitors ever got to see the upper floors or even knew about the military-style operations center and communications section located there. Like most native-born men and women from Avalon, Albright was a tall, well-built young man in what appeared to be his mid to late thirties. Smart, intelligent, and good looking, which if Mike’s suspicions were correct, was the resident spook, was something of a drawback in his profession. Andy Anderson must have thought highly of him to have sent him to Earth.
“I take it that you are one of Anderson’s resident spooks.” Allen Albright gave his unexpected visitor a second look.
“Oh. Why do you say that,” he smiled, “I’m just the chief of protocol for the ambassador, and Victoria’s assistant.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Right and I’m a visiting county bumpkin that just fell off the turnip truck.”
“No, you are far from that, Mr. Tregallion.” There was hardness to Victoria’s tone of voice that said she was far better at this job than appearances would indicate. Albright stood in such a way that suggested he was about to spring into action at any moment. In some way he had the same “devil may care” look that Mike had seen in Seaford. In Seaford’s case it belied the steel underneath his indolent expression.
“So, now that we have the pleasantries out of the way, we can stop pretending we’re something we’re not.” Mike growled, imitating the Max’s usual form of address.
With the shadow war going on behind the scenes in London the last thing she wanted was the owner and founder of Avalon dropping bombshells all over the place. As far as she was concerned, Max Tregallion was a nuisance she could do without right now. The fact he could go where he wanted any time he wanted on a whim didn’t cut much ice in Victoria’s book. What she didn’t want right now was the extra headache of playing nursemaid for this grumpy old man. If anything happened to him while he was here, her boss, Gordon Tregallion, and Andy Anderson would have her head mounted on his office wall. The incident with the robo-cab was just another chapter in the ongoing war with the Sirrien agents here on Earth. The question of why the old man hadn’t called ahead and had the embassy pick him up at the spaceport was one she was going to ask next.
“So, Mr. Tregallion, what’s the real story behind the robo-cab story?”
“From what I could gather, the attack on the cab wasn’t directed at me per se, just against anyone from Avalon”
“Why do you say that?” Albright asked.
“No one knew I was coming here or was anything more than some ordinary citizen arriving from Avalon. Therefore, the attack was targeted at anyone from Avalon to try and cause an incident and strain the relations between Earth and Avalon to the breaking point.” As he spoke, Mike glanced around the room, looking in all the shadowy corners near the ceiling. “The incident was meant to look like either an assassination by parties unknown, or with a little luck, an Avalon ordered suicide attack on London by way of a fusion reactor explosion at the robo-cab terminal.”
“That brings up the question of whom.”
“Yes, I can see that, but who are the likely suspects? The Sirriens would be my first guess.” Mike pulled his earlobe as he spoke.
“With what’s been going on around here the last few months, I wouldn’t place any bets that it was just the Sirriens.”
“Oh. You’d better fill me in.” That brought a puzzled look from Albright and Victoria, but he said nothing.
“We’ve had what you might call a Paris Revolution in reverse. The King exercised his royal prerogative and swept through Whitehall to arrest a lot of people suspected of being Sirrien spies or collaborators. He also refused to sign a draft of law the Prime Minister wanted to put into immediate effect and refused to sign off on the new budget. He also sacked a number of high ranking government officials to boot.”
“Good grief! He went whole hog… I mean, good for him, but what precipitated that action?”
“Oh, nothing much. The PM wanted to scrap half the Navy, cut their budget, and sack all the senior admirals just to start. He kept blabbering on about how England and Earth didn’t need the exorbitant expense of a Navy at this point in history. And, their friend and ally, the Sirriens promised to sign a non-aggression treaty with Earth in the near future etc, etc. He also indicated that it was time to scrap the monarchy and go to some sort of republic.” Hearing that, several bits of odd information dropped into place.
“Yeah, right. My bet is the fat ass made a deal with the Sirriens that no one knows about.”
“I don’t follow, what deal?”
“The deal to set him up as the first president of an Earth Republic after the Sirriens take over or as the regional governor of a Sirrien Satrap.” Albright sat up and looked sharply at Mike.
“And you know this, how? But before we get to that, just who the hell are you?” Albright asked. “Because you sure aren’t Max Tregallion.”
“Yes, I agree. We have just received the results back from the lab on your DNA.”
“Max Tregallion you are not. Close, but not a perfect match.” Mike thought to bluff it out and demand they run the DNA analysis again, but Victoria killed that idea.
“You’re not a clone either as the DNA would be a perfect match so who are you?”
“I guess it’s time to come clean.” Mike took a deep breath. “I’m not Max Tregallion; I’m Michael Gray, Max Tregallion’s great grandson.” If he thought to shock Albright, he was disappointed.
“We were wondering why your DNA wasn’t quite a match for Max Tregallion.” At that moment, she snapped her fingers in what seemed like an odd gesture until something shot down the wall and leapt onto Mike shoulder. “If you move, my little friend will bite you and you’ll be dead in three seconds. That goes for you as well, Mr. Silverman, if you reach for your weapon.” Much to his surprise, Mike just smiled and reached up to scratch the foot-long, six-legged green lizard along its flattened crest as it licked his earlobe.
“Oh, I don’t think this nice little fellow will bite me.” Victoria and Albright paled slightly as Mike continued stroking the lizard and it didn’t bite him.
“How’s that possible…”
“Well, you might say he’s my passport. If I were a spy trying to infiltrate this place, I’d be dead, right?”
Albright nodded, “Yes, that’s very true.”
“Besides that, his brothers and sisters are very good friends of mine. Is she yours?” He asked, looking at Victoria. Very few people left Avalon with their friend.
“Yes… but how do you know it’s a she… I’ve never.” She stopped. Whoever this man was, he was from Avalon that was sure.
“As I said, I’m not Max Tregallion, but Michael Tregallion, or Michael Gray, captain of the Royal Naval ship H.M.S. Nemesis. The reason for the subterfuge is simple. I was ordered to return to Earth as soon as possible and report to Fleet Admiral Rawlings. However, for reasons I can’t go into right now, it was impossible for me to simply bring my ship in and report as I normally would. I thought I’d slip into London and come here, change, and no one would be the wiser about my presence in London.”
“I see, go on.” She replied as Mike held his hand out, palm up. The lizard nuzzled him under the chin for a moment before scuttling down onto his hand and rolled over on her back. Mike gently caressed her tummy seeing her change color as he did. Avalon lizards loved humans stroking their bellies. Victoria eye her little friend in wonder. Whoever this person was, if he was any sort of a spy, the lizard would have bitten and killed him. The fact she was the only person her f
riend would allow to do that was all the confirmation she needed that he was who he said he was.
“If you are wondering how I know it’s a she,” he said as an aside, “it’s her color and smell. She has a slight jasmine-like smell, whereas boys have a slightly darker color and have a cinnamon odor.”
“That’s the first time I’ve heard anyone mentioned that, and I guess you are right about her scent. I’m so used to it I hardly notice, but let's get back to you Captain Gray.” Mike had to smile. Once the in house spook team had heard his name and got into action, it hadn’t taken them long to figure out who he was, and relay it to Albright by implanted comm.
“What I hadn’t expected was the assassination attempt.”
“Yes, killing a member of the Tregallion family would have been a feather in someone’s cap.”
“True and you can bet that little shit, Prince Phillip, would reward the people in question.”
“Oh, you know of the young man?”
“Yes, met the little twerp twice a while ago, and he didn’t make a first or second good impression.”
“Should have killed the little bugger when you had the chance, Skipper.” Jenks murmured.
“Wish I had now, but at the time I didn’t know who he was, mores’ the pity.” Albright blinked and wondered what he’d missed. There was nothing in any report he had that Mike had ever met the Prince let alone had a chance to kill him.
“But I digress. The arrival of the Orion Dawn offered a means of getting to Earth in the minimum amount of time. The skin mask to make me look like Max was a spur of the moment thing.”
“Better you than me trying to explain that to Mr. Tregallion Senior, or my boss, Mr. Anderson.”
Mike waved it away as he handed the now sleeping lizard over to Victoria, “You are just doing your best in a difficult situation. My arrival in any form would be a headache. I’ll explain things to Uncle Andy, but I’m sure you will forward a copy of this conversation and video to him, so he can vent his spleen on me, instead of you.” Victoria and Albright smiled for the first time, and visibly relaxed. “As for great-granddad Max. I’ll find him a nice bottle of hundred-year-old brandy, and he’ll forgive all our sins.”
