“The man asks a good question,” Jack muttered beside him. “You better have a damn good answer, for all our sakes.”
While looking at the frank pirate boy, Edmond spoke to the official, “Understood. I repeat, we have a medical emergency and require immediate medical attention. It must be Elba—we haven’t the time to go anywhere else. We have also taken prisoner a complement of pirates. We wish to transfer the custody of them and their ship to you, as per regulation.”
“Very well, so long as you understand the risks.” The voice on the other end of the conversation went dead, but the ship’s computers were already being fed instructions, and, for good or ill, they were beginning to enter Elba’s orbit. “We’ll send a shuttle for you and your wounded, as well as inform the Marines of your pirate problem. You’ll need to report to the surface. This is not an option.”
“For the record, I was against all of this,” Fernand said from the Dauntless, his voice sudden in Edmond’s ear.
He smiled. “When will you learn to trust me, Fernand?”
“You have the Devil’s own luck, I’ll give you that,” Fernand said, “but I’ve learned you can’t always trust in luck and good fortune. At some point, you need to make your own way.”
“I am, for the Captain’s sake,” Edmond said before cutting the communications channel to the Dauntless. He put his head in his hands. He’s not wrong. No matter, they were committed to this course. No matter what might be ahead for all of them, Edmond felt relief from having chosen a path. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the weariness that fogged his thoughts.
“Is your captain really so critical that Elba is his only chance?” Jack asked.
Edmond looked up at the young pirate. “Yes, because of you and your crew,” he said. “The first salvo sent shrapnel into him, as well as destroyed our medical bay.”
Jack was quiet a moment. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Anger welled up and Edmond couldn’t trust himself to speak for a moment. He was glad when he felt a familiar presence enter the cockpit behind him.
“Fernand told me we’ve gained access to Elba,” Mercedes said as she crouched next to Edmond’s chair.
“It’s easier to land than to leave,” Edmond said, shaking his head. “The Captain?”
“I’ve done what I can. He’s stable, but not for long. I only hope he can survive planet fall.”
“He has to, for us to risk this much. He has to,” Edmond said before taking a deep breath and smiling. “We only need to have faith.”
The doctor’s shoulders slumped with exhaustion, but she smiled and rested her head on Edmond’s shoulder. “You always expect the best. It’s the most frustrating and wonderful thing about you.”
“I heard he was debating blowing us out an airlock to save feeding us,” Jack said. “He doesn’t seem too wonderful to me.”
Mercedes glared at the boy, her lips thinning. “Edmond saved your worthless pirate life. Despite all reason and sound argument, you will survive to stand trial when we return.”
“Mercedes…” Edmond began.
“No, you’re too humble. What we’re doing here—risking everything to save the Captain by landing on a quarantine planet with a cargo hold full of pirates—is the sort of bravery that will never be properly rewarded or recognized.”
“I… I didn’t know,” Jack said, eyes downcast. “I’m sorry.”
Mercedes sniffed, her wrath spent, and turned back to Edmond. “Do you think we’ll meet him?”
Edmond didn’t have to wonder who she was talking about. “I doubt we’ll have a choice in the matter. He is the acting governor of Elba, after all, even if it just a false title. I suspect a ship landing on the planet isn’t something that happens very often. He may take special interest.”
“We must be careful, then. They say he’s brilliant.”
“He was a Company board member fallen from grace. The only reason he’s still alive is his expert skill at Bacarrae. He bet for his freedom and won,” Edmond agreed. “We must be very, very careful.”
“I know it’s not in your nature to suspect the worst in people, Edmond, but on Elba, you must listen to Fernand and Villefort. Their pragmatism and greed may see us through this.”
“Here I thought you were going to say our love would see us through,” he said, smiling.
“Be realistic. This is politics—there’s no room for a bleeding heart in politics,” Mercedes’ voice grew sharper. At the controls, the computer sounded the warning for a successfully established orbit, and the doctor rose. “I have to get back to the Captain. We’ll see you in the shuttle bay.”
“I love you, no matter what happens,” Edmond said. Did she know how true it was? He’d give anything to keep her safe—anything but his honor.
She smiled. “Of course I know that.”
Edmond fell back into the pilot’s chair, again checking the restraints on Jack. What must the boy be thinking right now? He again wondered his age, hoping he might be tried as a young offender, but the Company was ruthless when it came to pirates
“They’re tight—I’m not going anywhere,” the young pirate spat out, but some of the fire had left his voice. The two sat in silence as the Dauntless and her companion ship waited for Elba to receive them.
CHAPTER FOUR
EDMOND LOOKED AROUND THE TENSE shuttle bay. They hadn’t been permitted to land their own shuttle on the planet, but Elba was sending a shuttle to fly them straight to the Napoleon Bonaparte Clinic and Hospital. It sounded like a high-end hospital, but that only made him more worried. He’d been on enough outer planets to know the shabbier the place, the more grand-sounding the name.
Mercedes was fiddling with the Captain’s med-readouts—nerves, no doubt, as he had seen her check the exact readout six times now. He had to fight down nausea every time he looked at Captain Moreau. Surely a man couldn’t come back from that… could he? Still, he had survived this long.
“What’s taking them so long?” the medical officer muttered, tension apparent in her forehead and the way she held her arms too close to her body.
“Typical rubes,” Fernand offered from where he was lounging next to the control panel. He didn’t look at her, peering instead out the transparent porthole, as if you could see something as tiny as a shuttle making the lightning-fast trip from the planet. “They like to keep you cooling your heels so you’ll give them anything they ask for just to be rid of the whole situation. What we should be doing is high-tailing it back to home base—not drifting into this pot of trouble.”
“Has anyone told you that you mix your metaphors?” Edmond asked. He shouldn’t have been so irritable, but the tension made his belly knot painfully.
“I’ll mix worse than metaphors if they pull this garbage on Elba.”
“Maybe you should stay here with Villefort. You could work on ship repairs while we get the Captain the help he needs. It won’t take three of us.”
“You need me to keep you from doing something stupid. You lead too much with your heart.” He motioned to the prisoners who stood in a line in Shuttle Bay Two to be loaded onto the military shuttle that would transport them to the base prison. “Take them, for instance. We shouldn’t be wasting the effort on them. Maybe, if the military shuttle hadn’t arrived first, the medical one wouldn’t be dragging her aft getting here.”
“It would make no difference—we have two shuttle bays.”
“There, you’re leading with your heart, but not for your friends. Have you thought of what going planet-side on Elba might do to Mercedes’ career? There’s a risk that no one will take her as ship’s doctor after this. She can forget sending articles to prominent journals—everyone will think she has a hidden traitorous message in what she writes. She’s your fiancée and you should be looking out for her, instead of these scum-of-the-earth pirates and the idiot who sailed us into this mess.”
“I wouldn’t speak of the Captain that way if I were you,” Edmond warned. “He’s a good man
and worth the risk to save.”
“Good man or not, we wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him.”
Edmond glanced at Mercedes, but she was completely absorbed in the medical readout. Did that mean she agreed with Fernand? She couldn’t! Surely she wouldn’t think of herself first when it came to other people’s lives.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Fernand.”
“I’m risking my own reputation and career to keep her safe and you out of trouble. I think that should count for something.” Fernand straightened and motioned to the plexiglass that kept them separate from the open door of Shuttle Bay One. “Here comes our ride. It’s too late for any more bickering. Just try to think of us when you’re down there, Edmond. Not everything is a cause or a statement. Sometimes you just have to worry about yourself and your friends.”
Medical shuttles weren’t set up for sight-seeing, and Fernand hogged the porthole–he hated being out of the loop–so Edmond didn’t catch a glimpse of Elba until the shuttle landed on a haphazard landing pad outside the Napoleon Bonaparte Hospital.
Mercedes gave him an absentminded kiss before rushing the Captain out the door with the group of rapid-speaking white-clad personnel who had gathered to lend assistance. The medical jargon was lost on Edmond, but at least it looked like they were planning to do what they could.
He glanced around. The hospital was on the edge of the settlement—a place, he judged, of about one hundred-thousand residents. On one side of the hospital, modern city infrastructure stretched over the landscape like a mask. On the other side, the sharp, grey landscape, wreathed in perpetual mustard-colored fog stretched out. Had they factored in the creepy atmosphere when they’d designated this place a detention zone? Most likely. The Company knew just how to reduce a man to the lowest brink of sanity.
“Lieutenant Edmond Dante?” a voice called from the fog, quickly followed by a figure in military garb. “Lieutenant Fernand Mondego?”
“That’s us,” Fernand said sharply. “Who are you?”
“I’m Captain Rogers from Company Base X100B. I’m here to conduct your entry interview.”
Edmond nodded. This was standard protocol on a protected planet. For a moment, he thought he saw a figure standing in the fog behind the Captain. He squinted. Yes, it was definitely the figure of a short man in a billowy coat.
“I’ll escort you to headquarters,” Captain Rogers said with a smile. “First, Lieutenant Dante, if you would be so kind, there’s someone who would like a moment of your time.”
He gestured to the fog and the short man took a step forward. Edmond barely suppressed a gasp, even though he had known this meeting was inevitable. The man known in this area simply as the Governor of Elba emerged from the fog in all his disgraced glory.
He shook out his coat, letting the dust settle before saying, “Welcome to Elba. We’re so pleased to provide you with the medical aid you require… and I’m sure you’re ready to pay the price for our hospitality. If you’ve heard of me, I’m sure you’ve already guessed what I’ll want.
“A game of Bacarrae?” Edmond asked, worried now.
The man’s replying grin brightened the dull landscape.
CHAPTER FIVE
EDMOND WAS STILL REELING FROM meeting one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy when their car brought them to their destination and Captain Rogers escorted them each to an interview room.
“The interview is for your benefit. When you return, it can be used as evidence of your innocence. The Company will not be pleased that you landed on Elba—there will certainly be an investigation.”
Before they were separated, Fernand gripped Edmond’s elbow, pulling him in close, so their words would be for their ears alone.
“Be careful,” he’d said. “What you say affects us all.” His words were cautionary, but they’d hung like a threat. He had only been able to nod in response.
The interview room was sparse with only a table and indistinct soft lighting, a chair for him, and a chair for his interviewer. In a few moments, Edmond heard hushed words outside followed by a harsh, final one, and then the door opened. Nathan Napoleon, the man who’d defied the Company, stepped into the room holding a case while smiling.
“Hello, Lieutenant Dante. I thought I’d conduct your interview myself. A remarkable leader like yourself, making hard decisions like you did... well, it’s a nice change of pace. We don’t get many visitors, of course, and it is always nice to speak to someone who hasn’t been tainted by this place. I’d like to hear your story.”
“Yes, of course,” Edmond said, “but wouldn’t Captain Rogers be more qualified?”
“Oh, I doubt that,” Napoleon smiled, setting his case on the table in front of him and taking his seat. “Besides, I’m hoping you’ll indulge a lonely man in a friendly game of Bacarrae. You play?”
Lonely? There was a whole colony here at his disposal. It was a prison colony, but still...
“I know the rules, but I wouldn’t say I’m an expert. Everyone needs to know the rules—the Company sees to that,” Edmond said.
“Oh, yes, the Company loves Bacarrae. You must admit it is an elegant alternative to warfare or dueling to resolve internal conflict. There is an element of chance involved. Anyone could win.” He set out a board and began arranging the pieces.
“Those with the gift have a clear advantage, though,” Edmond said, “and it’s been said you were one of the most gifted in the company. To see another man’s thoughts…” he shivered before continuing, “seems the most intimate kind of betrayal.”
“Don’t think of it like that,” Napoleon tapped his temple. “Man has always competed with one another. Bloody acts, mostly—acts of violence. With this, however, there is no loss of life. This is classic Bacarrae, the game that started the arena spectacle we know today.”
“That’s one way to look at it,” Edmond said, watching the man set the board with practiced ease. It had been a long time since he’d seen a physical board. Most Bacarrae matches were played out in fantastic virtual reality with incredible effects, strategies, and terrible consequences. “No Bacarrae tank here? I didn’t see an immersion chamber.”
“There is no need. Classical Bacarrae is by far the more elegant platform. The style means little, of course, as the game is played in here.” Napoleon tapped his temple again. “We with the gift can see the surface of a man’s mind—what an opponent is immediately thinking. Misleading your opponent is the other half of the game, though, both in the mind and on the board. Those without the gift can easily mislead someone with it, if they are quick and guarded.”
He finished setting his pieces and Edmond began setting his in what he hoped might be a misleading configuration. He tried literally not to think about his placements, lest Napoleon read his mind. Bacarrae was a much more complex game than chess when played in board form, as well as much more exciting, even without a psychic gift to make the play double-layered.
He glanced up to Napoleon, who was watching him intently, a small smile on his otherwise blank face. “You didn’t say what we were wagering, sir.”
“Didn’t I? Hmm,” the man said, indicating Edmond should make the first move. He did so. “You landed to help your captain? Tell me about that, first.”
“He and our ship were severely damaged when the pirates attacked.” Edmond shrugged as he made his move. “There’s not much to tell.”
Napoleon made his move almost immediately, yet Edmond could tell it was decisive. “You managed to subdue those same pirates and steal their ship, instead?”
“That was Fernand Mondego’s doing, our engineer. He has a devious mind.” He moved another piece forward and challenged Napoleon’s closest man. It turned out to be a knight, however, and Edmond’s soldier was removed. “He hijacked their environmental systems and we threatened them into surrender.”
“Why not just open all their airlocks?” The man’s knight struck and removed another of Edmond’s soldiers. “No one would judge you
for killing the pirates who attacked your ship. The Company may even reward you for your heroism.”
“I would judge myself,” he said grimly. He smiled as he challenged Napoleon’s marauding knight with one of his own, taking the other man’s important piece. “Human life is important to me.”
“Good move—and a good thought. I would ask you, though, if you know the difference between a life worth saving and one that is not.” The governor’s eyes turned hard and piercing; Edmond could not meet them.
“I do not care for this interview, sir, and I don’t care to play a game when I haven’t been told the stakes. They say Napoleon never plays a game without stakes. If you wanted a challenge, you should have interviewed Fernand, instead. He’s by far the better player.”
“You think so? Hmm,” he moved a piece without challenging. “I’ll be frank, as I see there is little intrigue about you, Lieutenant Dante. Roundabout talking does neither of us good. I see the makings of the gift in you, although it needs refining. I also see an honesty and belief in fellow man that your friends—even your fiancée—lacks.”
“I didn’t tell you about Mercedes,” Edmond said flatly. “You’re in my head.”
“I told you some thoughts sit on the surface, Lieutenant. You’re worried about your medical officer, and you’re broadcasting that to anyone with a hint of psychic resonance. I could no more ignore your relationship with her than fail to notice your hair is black,” Napoleon waved his hand, “but we digress.”
When he leaned forward, Edmond did not like the look in his eye.
“Doubtless, when you return to your port, you will be interviewed by inspectors and inquisitors—others with the gift—who will notice you have the gift in you. You will be recruited, or coerced, into Company service. Whatever you believe about the Company is irrelevant; your skill will be their gain, and it will not be for the good of your fellow man.”
Edmond tried meeting Napoleon’s eye again and managed it for a moment.
Captain of the Monte Cristo: a space opera retelling of the classic tale (Classic Retellings Book 1) Page 2
