by Jim Rudnick
Without hesitation, he used the now empty gun like a club and swung it with all his might at the head of the Jael, who had bitten into the Duke’s shoulder, feeling the impact as he struck the animal's temple. It must have stunned the animal as she rolled off to the far side of the Duke who now lay quietly on the ground as Tanner struggled to find more shells in the bandolier.
As the animal shook its head and began to stand, Tanner realized that she was far from out of the fight and skinned his knuckle jamming a single shell into the lower chamber. He looked up to see the Jael, screaming its rage, towering over them both, as he knelt at the Duke’s side. One more, he thought as the animal roared and began to pounce down at him. His carbine came up cleanly, and he fired into the Jael’s neck as the animal’s jaws snapped at his own, and he went over backward with the Jael on top. Then all he saw was black ...
CHAPTER SEVEN
On board the frigate Avalon, Rhys sat and champed on the hangnail on his thumb. His attention to the view screen was focused, but his gnawing didn't stop as the cuticle bled.
Ahead was a freighter that was carrying about fifty emigrants on their way from Carnarvon to Merilda. With all their worldly possessions, he thought.
Emigrants to Merilda were always suspect, Rhys thought, as anyone would be on their way to live on a planet that was a raw untamed world. More than 13,000 miles in diameter, its gravity was almost two times what was on Neres; its continents were huge, and its seas small. Much of the planet was undiscovered and unexplored, Rhys knew, and that was probably because the total population of this planet was less than 100,000. No cities, barely a few towns, and from what the rumors were, almost no chance of reaching out for Confederacy membership for at least five generations. “And if we take those fifty hostages, that'd take a bit longer,” he said to himself and smiled, his thumb painfully red.
From the Helm chair came word about the matching of the TachyonDrive from the rear as they came up dead astern of the freighter. As the Avalon had been fully customized by the Barony engineering labs, she had been sped up to be able to do one light-year in eighteen hours instead of the normal twenty-four hours. Specialized modifications that coupled the Argosenium with the Tachyon pulse that drove the ship at light-speed had been added. There were few ships outfitted with the Tachyon over-drive, and only the Avalon had the Argosenium customization.
"Matching is optimum, Captain," the Lieutenant said as his hands cautiously matched the vector heading to come up astern.
On the bridge view screen, the Perseus engine on the freighter ahead showed the dull ocher color as usual and then flared brightly as klaxons came on all over the Avalon.
"Status report, XO," bellowed Rhys as he swung to starboard to look at his number two in command. "Shut off those Goddamn alarms," he added, and as they died, the XO spoke up.
"No idea yet, Captain," he said back as he scanned the screens on his own station's consoles.
"Damn it," Rhys said, "they're moving off … what they hell has happened?" He spoke quietly now as the Avalon appeared to be slowing … the freighter moving away quickly. At light-speed, the ocher rear-facing Perseus engine pushed ahead quickly, and they were moments later out of sight … a growing smaller dot well ahead.
Dropping out of light-speed, the Avalon popped back into real space and the stars suddenly appeared. Aimed as they were toward the galactic core, there were dozens of tens of thousands of them, with the huge black channel of dust and detritus along the Orion Arm and the inner core.
Feverishly working on their screens with the sound of keyboards clicking and muttered curses, Rhys waited as the ocher dot ahead disappeared.
"Anyone? Someone? What the hell happened?" he said.
After a wait of more than ten minutes more, the XO turned to him and shook his head. And then he shook it again.
"Sir, it appears that the candle went out on its own, and we've no idea as to why ..." His disgust was real and his lack of a reason bothered him too.
"Fine, start her back up and let’s head home," he said and leaned back to gnaw on his thumb again, worrying on that cuticle.
Moments later, the keys again were clacking and the view screen was still solidly the same.
"Helm?" Rhys said,"have you—"
"Sir, there's a problem with the engine … we're not getting any candle at all …" his Helm lieutenant said. His hands flashed again on the ship’s controls on his desktop and yet nothing appeared to be happening.
"Sir … I'm at a loss too. We appear to have no issues with any of the engine; anti-matter fine, helm control fine, heading and locks fine … in fact we should right now be at light-speed, Sir. But we're not …"
Rhys sat back and squared his shoulders.
"Get engineering on this immediately as I want to go after that freighter ASAP."
The XO he saw was on his throat mic, and judging by the jerking of his head, he was yelling down to the engineers. Rhys smiled to himself and licked his thumb to salve the irritation. This won't take long, he thought and turned back to the Bridge view screen to watch the stars … at least there's a light show to watch. And another freighter to find too.
# # # # #
He woke with a start and realized that first, he had lived through the Jael’s attack and then that somehow his right leg wouldn’t move. Groaning, he continued to try to sit as he wiped the grit from the corner of his eyes, and he was pressed back down into the bed gently.
“Take it easy, Sir. You’re fine ... all you need is a bit more rest and another day with your leg in the auto-Doc,” a soft voice said.
As he fluttered open his eyes, he was able to focus on the form beside his bed. It looked like a nurse.
“Uh ... where am I,” he croaked out, “and how long have I been in Sick Bay?” he asked as he glanced around the room. Beside him was the stand for his IV, and down by the right side of the bed, a machine housed his complete right leg from mid-thigh down to past his foot. While he knew what an auto-Doc was, he’d actually never had an injury before that would have required using one.
“Captain, you’re on the Achilles and we’re making quick time back to d'Avigdor and the rest of the Duke’s party directly to the tender, and we took off just a few hours ago. Our ETA is tomorrow night, which is a good thing as that will give your broken leg the full thirty hours it needs to be mended.” She fussed with his sheets and smiled down at him, patting his arm and handing him a glass of water.
“And if you don’t remember, the Duke has told us all that you saved his life on that hunt,” she added. “And to those of us who know the man, we are all grateful that you did just that too!”
“Uh ... the Duke? Is he alright?” Tanner asked, sipping the water carefully from the straw.
She nodded at him.
“Yes, he’s fine—oh, he’s got lots of scrapes and a few bruises and lacerations from the beating he took. And his shoulder had big canine teeth bite marks that more than 100 stitches and an hour in the auto-Doc fixed up quickly. But on the whole, he’s fine. He said for me to let him know soon as you were awake too,” she said as she moved away to the wall comm unit and talked quietly for a moment into it.
She then busied herself with the auto-Doc settings, checking various dials and vials that he could see. He’d heard that an auto-Doc could fix just about any major wound or broken bone that any human might encounter. And while he’d never had the need for one, he was sure that his leg would come out of the machine whole and ready for use. At least he hoped that was true, he thought as the door to Sick Bay slid open and in came the Duke who smiled at Tanner and walked immediately to his side.
“Captain, never did I imagine that including you on my hunting party team would be the best decision I’d ever make. My thanks, Sir, your quick thinking saved my life—both of our lives, I imagine,” he said as he smiled down at Tanner’s face.
“Um ... Sir, I really don’t know what to say. I just ... well, I just did what I thought was best at the time. And I’m glad we got o
ut of there with our skins,” he said, a bit embarrassed at the Duke’s honest thank you. He really didn’t do much, just what anyone would have done in that situation.
“Nonsense, Captain. You saved us both. And I am more than thankful. I have Ansibled that news to your superiors in the RIM Navy; I have requested that you receive a full week’s worth of recovery time on d'Avigdor at my palace and my expense, and I’ve arranged for a festival to be held in your honor in a week's time.”
“Sir, I really don’t think that I—”
“Save it, Captain. I also have a seat on the Council, so as you can imagine, when I want something done, it usually is done,” the Duke said, still grinning down at Tanner. His smile was a nice one, Tanner thought, and yes, I guess it'll have to do.
“Nancy, please take good care of our guest ‘til we arrive tomorrow. Captain, this is our best nurse on board, and what she says—well, just pretend it’s me talking. Follow her orders and you’ll arrive hale and hearty on d'Avigdor. ‘Til then, Captain,” he said as he patted the nurse on the shoulder and left the room.
“Woohoo, a festival in your honor—that’s a day you’ll never forget,” she said as she smiled down at Tanner and fiddled again with the settings on the auto-Doc.
“What exactly does that mean?” he asked as he took a final sip from the almost empty glass.
“It’s held in the Palace festival grounds and runs all day and night too. There’ll be the logging competitions for the forestry workers from Anulet, and the Adepts will have a fortune telling display. The Bacu who are close will show up with all their gypsy ways, and the Leudies will be there to trade. While this festival will be mostly local because it’s so soon and that’s not enough time for many more to get here, the big festivals at the spring and vernal equinoxes attract thousands of revelers and merchants and artists. And you’re to be the guest of honor, which means that you’ll enjoy the big feast at night and sit at the Duke’s right hand, an honor to be sure.” She continued to fiddle with the settings on the auto-Doc, moving up a slider here and tapping a gauge there until she was satisfied.
“I’ve upped the levels somewhat, Captain, which might make you a bit sleepy, and you should rest if you can. Nothing helps the autoDoc do its job better than a resting patient. I’ll be right over there at my console if you need me, but do try to rest,” she said as she slipped away.
He watched her get settled over at the far console and thought she must have dimmed the lights a bit as he slowly fell into a deep rest, dreaming of festivals and Pirates and cruisers full of Scotch ...
# # # # #
Two days later in his cabin aboard the Marwick, Tanner thumbed for the incoming messages and was relieved to see one from Admiral McQueen. After the normal Navy icons and security codes appeared, his superior’s face then filled the comm screen.
“Well, my boy. Saving the life of a Duke can have its rewards, as I’m sure you’re finding out, and the fact that the Duke is also on the Council is also important to note, as he has arranged all much above me by the way. So as I understand it, you’re on 'shore recuperation duty' for almost another full week, at which time perhaps you’d better come on in to update me on how your mission is coming along. That’s if you can tear yourself away from the festival,” he said dryly, and as he rung off, Tanner could see him shaking his head.
As he composed a simple text message answer to acknowledge this new itinerary, he again pressed down on his right foot with more weight and tried to see if there was any residual pain in the leg itself. But there was none; the Duke’s auto-Doc had done a superb job and the tibia had mended truly. He sent the message with a quick finger stab and then stood to go to the gym and work that leg and the rest of his body too.
He grinned as he thought of how out of shape he’d gotten and nodded when he reminded himself of why that had happened, as he quickly changed into gym clothes and left his cabin to find the stairs to go down to the gym deck.
Taking a filled thermos cup, he moved down the hallway to the turbo-lift and waited for it to arrive as he sipped his Scotch in the cup. As he got to the officer’s quarters level, he suddenly thought of the festival and its Adepts and popped by Lieutenant Sander’s quarters to invite him to the gym and to query him on Adepts in general.
# # # # #
The technician with the cleanest lab coat sat at the console in the lab and shook his head at the small group of similarly clad scientists around him. He pointed to a bar chart on the screen and then flipped his hand over as a sign of frustration.
"This should not happen as there is no physical property of Argosenium that would account for this declination of the fields generated by the neutron to proton transition. And how that is accompanied by the emission of an electron and an anti-neutrino which causes the emission of a positron is beyond our understanding of the element. This should not happen. But it appears that it has on the Hypnos."
He shook his head again and twisted around to look at the group.
"Ideas anyone?" he queried and then waited.
No one spoke. Only two days ago, the Hypnos had been towed in by one of the Barony Navy supply ships, and they had been working on the secret Argosenium mechanism here in the secure lab in the Baron's palace since. Thirty-eight straight hours,and no break for either the scientists or in determining the cause of the failure of the mechanism.
"Doctor, it might seem like the only answer, as someone smarter than I am once said, is that the answer to any issue is always the easiest," said a young man fresh from the University over on Juno only a few months ago.
"If we all recognize that when an atom is in an external magnetic field, spectral lines become split into three or more components is the phenomenon we call the Zeeman Effect. This is caused by the interaction of the magnetic field with the magnetic moment of the atom and its electrons. Hence, the only explanation is that whatever the component is that gives the Argosenium its power over the candle ceases to exist after some threshold of usage. Simple, yes?" He smiled quickly and then backed up a half a step as the head scientist rose.
"That just could be, however improbable that may be. We need to test then—A/B testing on new samples, plus any variants …" he said as they all moved off. The only thing that was bothering him was reporting this to the Baroness … that was always what could only be described as a ghastly experience. The shudder beneath his lab coat couldn't be seen, but it was still there as he strode down the wall of screens and consoles and equipment.
# # # # #
Going to the festival was all new to Tanner, and as he strolled the fringes of the grounds on this summer day, there was much to see and to do.
First, there were all the buskers. Everywhere you looked, he realized, there was someone who was performing some kind of skill and hoped you were suitably impressed enough to like what you saw or heard and would drop a few credits into their basket. He saw six-armed unicyclists from Eblo, in the Alex’in hegemony, who juggled and sang at the same time, and sidewalk painters who’d do a quick sketch of you in a minute or less. There were a horde of Altos, that race from Randi who was known for being able to somehow sing in four-part harmony alone and who in a choir sounded like hundreds of singers.
Lieutenant Sanders pointed out even more of the more exotic Rim species; Tanner had seldom seen a DenKoss off its own world before, but sure enough, a tank or two went by, with one of those fishy-looking aliens sloshing about inside. He nudged Sanders and asked if perhaps one of them might have recently been on Conclusion … and if Sanders recognized her, or it?
Sanders shrugged and said quite simply, "No, Sir!"
As they made their way past the buskers, they found themselves in the games of chance area and watched as many Nerians tried their hand at pitching balls at targets that looked far too small or watched as a giant wheel turned to mostly stop on a number that was uncovered with a bettor’s credits. Tanner pointed at the game and grinned as if to ask his Adept officer if it was a straight game and the lieutenant gri
nned back at him.
“Not on your life, Sir. Note no Adepts play the game?” He shook his head, and Tanner realized that if a game was at all rigged for the house, then Adepts would know and not bother to play.
“But what about all those players, do they not know that?” he asked.
“Sure, but note the sign on the top,” he said as he pointed.
“This game will not host any Adept players,” it read.
“Um. So the real players think that an Adept would have an edge, therefore they are barred from playing. When in fact, Adepts know it’s a rigged game and wouldn’t bother?” he questioned.
“Right, Sir. Just another con ...” Sanders smiled as they walked on among the families and teenagers that swelled in numbers as they got closer to the competition areas.
Passing food court after outdoor food booths and even food trucks, they stopped only long enough to buy a frozen ice-cone, and as they quickly tried to keep them from melting all over their hands, they found themselves near the large water tank where hoots and cheers were coming from.
Moving along the edge of the tank, they climbed up one walkway and peered out into the tank. It was obviously a log burling contest as Tanner could see at each end of the tank on walkways contestants with numbers on their backs awaited their call to mount the log from their own end. As he swiped the cone with his tongue, he heard the announcer offer that the next match was between last year’s winner, an older contestant from Anulet, and a younger challenger who’d climbed the listings and done quite well to get to this level. As he watched, each man slowly worked their way out along the top of the floating log to take their positions within the striped zone at their own end. Suddenly, a buzzer sounded and the cheering began.
