“Very well,” said Samantha, her expression saying it was anything but. “And what will you be doing tomorrow.”
Sean looked at Jennifer with a smile on his face. “Do you fancy some sailing tomorrow? Or would the mountains be more to your liking?”
The next morning found them on a high speed airbus, flying ahead of their sound on a course to the south. Jennifer sat looking out the side window at the water passing by far below, until an island appeared, then more, and the airbus started to drop from the sky toward a landing pad near the water. There were several aircars already down, and the small figures of men walking around the pad. Always security, thought Jennifer, a mix of anger and resignation in her mind. Even on holiday there must always be people around, and she knew it was just something she would have to get used to.
“She’s beautiful,” said Jennifer when she saw the Rainbow, the Imperial water yacht. And she was, a four master of fifty meters length and seven hundred and fifty tons. Small in comparison to the ships of space, but standing there looking at her next to the dock she looked huge. There were crew moving along the deck, running toward the gangplank. All were smartly uniformed, though the lower half of that outfit was bathing trunks, and the upper tight T-shirts. Boat shoes completed the uniform.
“We ready to sail, Captain?” said Sean, striding onto the plank.
“Whenever you say, your Majesty,” said the olive skinned man in a real sailor’s uniform. “How long do you anticipate this voyage to last?”
“At least overnight,” said the Monarch, turning to help Jennifer over the plank, though she felt secure enough holding onto the rail.
“I will tell the chef,” said the Captain, nodding.
“Once we are underway I will take the helm,” said Sean, looking back at the man after he made sure Jennifer’s feet were on the deck.
“Very well, your Majesty,” said the Captain. “You haven’t forgotten your sailing lessons, I assume.”
“I’m sure they’ll come back,” said Sean with a laugh, clapping the Captain on the back. “Captain LeClerc, this is my personal physician, Doctor Jennifer Conway. And of course you know my cousin, Samantha.”
The ship left the dock smoothly under impellors, and as soon as she had enough clearance the sails came down. The wind caught in them with a booming sound and the ship leapt ahead. Jennifer stood on the deck watching the men in the rigging setting the sail for the most efficient gathering of the wind. The ship was tacking into the prevailing winds, and though she knew the vessel was at most doing ten to twelve knots, it felt like it was going much faster.
She looked back to see Sean at the wheel, turning the ship into the wind. The Emperor had his shirt off and was enjoying the sun. Jennifer had seen him disrobed before, even more so, as part of a preliminary examination. What she hadn’t seen then were the play of his muscles under his bronze skin. I have to remember that he is the closest thing to a superman the race has developed, with his perfect genetics. She ran a finger over her own fair skin, and knew if not for her nanites she would end the day with a burn and more freckles. She saw Samantha standing by the rail, another perfect body in her shorts and halter. She is beautiful, and though she’s cousin, there are plenty of noble women just like her. So why in the hell would he want me?
Next she knew Samantha was at her side and leading her by the hand toward the bow. “You have got to see this,” said the Regent, today no more than a young woman enjoying the outdoors.
The oncoming breeze flowed over the bow at an angle. Sean had explained that the ship couldn’t go directly into the wind, but only at an angle. And that the clipper ship could take a very steep angle, if not as much as a lanteen rigged ship like a normal sailboat. And then she had no time for thinking about how sails worked as she looked across the water.
“They’re dolphins, aren’t they?” she said when she could get her breath back. Dozens of the graceful creatures played tag with the bow of the ship, or jumped from the water. She could feel the pure joy of the creatures at play.
“Yep. One of the other sentient species from Earth. We improved them so they would be even more intelligent, just like we did with the chimps. Though with the dolphins it was not as big a leap to make them as smart as unimproved people.”
“But, I thought Jewel had its own native animal and plant life,” said Jennifer, letting a little bit of the scientist rise to the surface.
“It does,”agreed Samantha, leaning on the rail and waving a hand at a dolphin that was tail walking backwards, before turning with a dive back into the water. “But it really wasn’t hard to adapt them to the seas of Jewel. We’ve also got them on Aerial and New Terra.” The woman pointed up for a moment, where a three quarters disk of New Terra, a completely terraformed Earth like world, and the smaller Aerial, also terraformed, though with an orange tint, hung on the horizon.
“But…”
“Why? Because the first Emperor loved dolphins, even though he grew up on the Exodus III. And he wanted them to be the partners of humankind.”
“So these guys just hang out here and play? And catch native fish?”
“They do more than that,” said Samantha with a laugh. “These guys are part of today’s security detail. In case something happens and we find ourselves in the water. There are some really big carnivores out there as well.”
An aircar flew over, one of the human security detail. They think of everything, don’t they. There are some people who actually sit around and think of everything they can do to protect the Emperor.
Later Jennifer was sitting on the rear deck sipping a drink, the Emperor sitting across from her with a tropical style beverage in his own hand. Conway tasted the coconut and fruit juices while trying to keep her eyes off the Emperor, and failing. He’s beautiful, she kept thinking, still wondering what he could see in her. He’s got to have a genetically compatible match. I guess they could change the genetics in some of my eggs to make the baby another little high breed noble. But then it wouldn’t be mine. Not really.
“We’re here,” said Sean, standing up as the crew worked at taking down the sails and the vessel coasted to a stop. He offered his hand to Jennifer, and she felt an electric thrill go through her at the touch. She looked down, feeling a flush come over her face, and when she looked back up Sean was smiling at her.
“What’s here?” she asked, looking at a nearby island that looked like several others she had seen that day.
“The best reef diving on the planet,” said Samantha, bringing a couple of bags up on deck and opening one. She held up a mask attached to a small tank by a tube and turned it around so Jennifer could see it. “This will give you two hours of breathing time underwater, depending on the depth.”
After a few minutes of instruction on how to use the mask and fins, she was garbed and in the warm tropical waters. She followed Sean and Samantha down to the reef about thirty meters below the surface. Some security dove with them, men in specialized underwater combat suits who stayed almost out of sight, while agents of the dolphin species swam in closer.
Sean pointed out the life of the reef, from many different forms of native crustacean, to multicolored animals that were very close in form to Terran fish. She knew the theories of convergent evolution that had been proven on so many worlds. Even so, these were remarkably like the ichthenes she knew.
“Red shark,” yelled a warning in her mask com. Jennifer looked to the right, where the cursor was directing her attention, to see a large form, at least over twenty meters in length, gliding through the water. It did look remarkably like a Terran shark, though much darker than any she had ever heard of. There was a flash of motion as dolphins headed toward the native animal. She held her breath, worried that the dolphins were taking on something that was just too big for them.
The harsh sound of sonics hit her ears and the shark turned away, going into a frenzy as it swam quickly in the other direction, the dolphins on its tail. “Are the dolphins armed?” she asked over the co
m.
“We gave them implants that include amplification of their own sonic emissions,” said Sean, paying more attention to grabbing a lobster like crustacean and putting it in his net bag.
Jennifer took one more look at the disappearing shark and shook her head. A lobster surrogate came into her field of view and she grabbed it, then pushed the struggling beast into her own bag.
Those lobster surrogates tasted great that night, served with potatoes, salad and chilled beer. Then there was music on deck, and people passing good marijuana around. Jennifer hadn’t indulged in years, and soon the beer and marijuana was going to her head. She noticed that Sean’s attention was turned her way, completely, and she blushed as she looked into the handsome face of the man.
When Jennifer woke in his bed the next morning, just before the ship came back into dock, she knew things had changed between them, and there was no going back. The Genie was out of the bottle, and the relationship was no longer strictly professional.
Chapter Seven
Go to Heaven for the climate, Hell for the company. Mark Twain.
CONUNDRUM SURFACE, OCTOBER 5TH 1000.
Preacher hadn’t gone along on the last mission. His subordinates had convinced him that he didn’t need to put his life on the line to prove himself. He had already proven himself many years in the past, and again more recently. His position was Brigade Commander, and as such he was supposed to lead from the rear.
He still insisted on looking at the memory feeds that the assault team members brought back recorded on their implants. He was looking over the feed from the assistant squad leader of the second squad of a platoon that had just gotten back from a strike mission. This was the third take he had processed, of the ten he planned to review.
Looking through the eyes of the man he watched the injection of a thick syringe into the arm. The syringe was filled with nanomachines, bubbles of carbon fiber that contained compressed oxygen, as well as the materials that would absorb CO2 when the levels rose too high in the bloodstream. The next view was of the man’s boots reconfiguring into flippers, then a picture of water, the soldier moving through the liquid, then going under.
There was a moment of panic several minutes into the swim, the Ranger’s body wanting to breath before his training told him he didn’t have to. From then on it was a clean swim underwater, the nanobubbles releasing oxygen as they absorbed carbon dioxide. A swim that went on for almost a half an hour, and Preacher fast forwarded through the record.
The head thrust up above the water, looking at a white beach. Five aircars were sitting on the sand and buildings rose behind them. There were towers set on the fence line looking into the forest.
The only electronic equipment on the Rangers were their advanced implants, which were shielded from any emissions at this point. The Rangers were not in electronic communications with each other, their skin suits locked in all of their body heat, there was nothing to give them away. Swimming through the water had rid them of all heat through pores that opened when they were submerged, and closed when they were out. They would overheat within minutes after leaving the water, but hopefully they would not need much more time.
The man was aware of the other troopers in his squad coming out of the water at the same time he did. Everyone had an assigned arc of fire, and the Ranger quickly catalogued the targets within his. His eyes magnified the view, bringing every detail to his awareness, while his ears made sure there was nothing hidden out of sight. He raised his rifle to his shoulder and tracked onto the first target, a Cacada who was sitting by one of the aircars, working at an open panel.
The Ranger looked up for one instant, seeing the cloudy sky that would still not be clear for several years. Nothing from orbit would be able to track on them, not until heat flares erupted over the small base. He looked down and squeezed his trigger, sending a trio of explosive rounds into the Cacada. The creature had time for one look up before the rounds exploded on his body and sent him to the ground dead. The Ranger tracked onto the aircar, pumping a dozen rounds in through the side of the ship. He pulled the trigger on his lower weapon’s mount, sending a thirty millimeter grenade into the vehicle.
All around the compound Cacada were falling, caught by total surprise by the seaborne invasion. A half dozen other positions were being hit at the same time, taking advantage of a trick that might not work the next time. One or two got shots off, to no effect.
The Rangers moved into the compound and grabbed every bit of electronic equipment or memory chips they could grab, thrusting them into shielded containers. In moments they were back in the water, their heat signatures completely masked, heading back to their rendezvous point.
“Good job,” said Preacher to himself as he stopped the memory and prepared the next one. He had almost hit the play button when the ground shook underneath, then shook again with an even harder surface shock. Rock dust fell from the ceiling and showered Preacher and his equipment. Preacher didn’t need to contact the com net to know what was going on. The Ca’cadasans had located his headquarters, and this time his side was the one being attacked.
*
HOME SYSTEM SPACE, OCTOBER 10TH, 1000.
Captain The Duke Maurice von Rittersdorf stood on his bridge, the control deck of James Komorov, and looked at the holo that showed his command. He wasn’t sure if his actual field command would consist of twelve brand new hyper VII destroyers. It was more of an administrative unit than anything, unless his entire squadron was assigned to a large intact task force. Normally the ships were split up and assigned to scouting forces, one light cruiser and two destroyers. He would be in command of whatever team he was assigned to, along with the junior cruiser captain in that squadron.
“We ready to jump?” he asked his Navigator, walking over to that station. Destroyers didn’t have flag bridges, or a flag officer and a ship’s commander. Maurice preferred it that way. He wanted to stay a ship’s captain, even as he became a squadron commander, and that was only possible on the cans.
“You give the word, sir,” said the Navigator, looking up at her CO.
Maurice looked at the holo again, showing all twelve of his ships, all coasting at point two c past the hyper limit of the Home System. There were rumors that ships capable of jumping at point two five c were coming down the pike. Maurice would rather have the ships under him right now than the ships that might be available later.
“All other ships reporting readiness, sir,” called out the com tech. That was the major difference between a flag destroyer and a regular old can. Whether as squadron or division lead there were extra com stations on the bridge, four versus the normal one.
And I’ve got a wormhole com, he thought with a smile. It took a little bit of the adventure out of things, since he was no longer separated from command by weeks of travel time. But he could get his information back to command in seconds, including the info that he was in trouble and in need of help. Only problem was that help might still take days to weeks to arrive. And his was the only ship in the squadron with a wormhole. There just weren’t enough of them yet, and it was considered a priority to have them aboard capital squadron flags and larger commands.
“Jump,” he commanded, and the Helmsman shouted out the acknowledgment and activated the hyperdrive projector.
Space rippled ahead of the ship, gravitons telling the fabric that there was a strong point source of gravity. Eighty thousand kilometers in front, allowing the ship time to coast into the hole just after it had expanded. To allow the ship to jump at a higher velocity the hole would have to be opened further ahead, which meant a larger hyperdrive projector, which would take up more of the ship’s volume. The hole showed the bright red background of hyper that was familiar to any experienced spacer.
Komorov slid flawlessly into the hole in space, taking mere pentaseconds to pass her nine hundred and thirty meter length through the rip. With a flash the hole closed behind, and the destroyer found herself in the realm of hyper, a dimension that d
idn’t like her or her regular matter. Now the hyperdrive projectors were engaged to keep a gravity field around the ship that protected her from the space that wanted to throw her out, and not in one piece.
“Course, sir?” asked the Helmsman, looking back over his shoulder.
Have to adhere to tradition, thought Maurice with a smile. Everyone knew where they were headed. But he still had to say it before the Helmsman could actually put the course into the computer. “Cimmeria. Least time profile.” He looked over at the com officer manning the primary console. “Signal our course to the rest of the squadron.”
Von Rittersdorf leaned back in his chair, enjoying the position of head honcho, not answerable to anyone in the squadron, at least until he got his command to the Core World Base. Too bad we aren’t going into Sector IV, thought the Captain, wanting to get at the Cacas, even though he knew that he wouldn’t stand much of a chance against anything over a trio of Ca’cadasan scouts, even with his whole squadron behind him.
The ship cruised on at point two c, then jumped up to hyper II, then to III, until she reached VII, and started accelerating at five hundred gravities, up through point three, then point four, continuing her acceleration profile until she reach her practical limit of point nine. At that velocity only one second passed for more than two in the slow moving Universe, while the ships carried more than double their mass.
“I’ll be in my cabin,” he told the watch officer, getting up from his seat and walking to the hatch. He didn’t bother telling the Lt. Commander in charge of navigation to call him if she needed him. She would know, and he had to show faith in his crew.
Von Rittersdorf’s cabin was no larger than the one he had as a mere ship’s commander. Maybe a little bit better appointed, especially since he had real money to spend now. A picture of the manor house he was having constructed on the frontier world of Linstrom III hung on the wall. He was the duke of an entire continent there, with almost a hundred thousand people looking to him for justice and stability. And they’ve never seen me, thought the Duke with a smile, sitting on his couch and calling up a holo of the beautiful world. He wondered if they ever would, or if the Duchy would simply go to another noble when he was killed in combat, as he had no heirs to the position. I’m sure the commoners would get along very well without me.
Exodus - Empires at War 04 - The Long Fall (Exodus Series #4) Page 12
