Warlord 2: The Nobility

by CJ Williams

  “Of course, Mistress,” he said, casting an appraising glance at her wardrobe. “Our Executive Suite is available.”

  “That will do nicely.”

  The check-in process was exactly as it was on Earth and other planets she had visited. The normalcy gave her confidence. She paid with her royal account and a valet escorted her to the suite. How much should I tip him, she wondered? She settled on a single blue coin and the man smiled graciously, neither awed nor disappointed.

  The suite was luxurious by Carrie’s standards. She decided she could get used to life as a member of the Nobility. It was probably another three hours until most businesses would open. She took off her outer clothes and set her mental alarm clock for a brief nap. She wanted to arrive at the Gimi Foundation about mid-morning.

  *.*.*.*

  The Foundation was open when Carrie arrived. Inside the foyer a receptionist worked at a narrow desk behind a chest-high countertop.

  “Good morning,” Carrie said. “My name is Carrie Faulkner. I have a message for Princess Gimi.”

  The woman’s eyes widened and she spoke quickly into a handset. “Someone will be right with you.”

  Carrie was amused by the similarities. People were people, no matter what solar system you were in. Certain things required basic behind-the-scene functionality. If you ran a foundation, you needed a secretary.

  A middle-aged woman appeared and escorted Carrie up an elevator and down a carpeted hall. Inside a well-appointed office an elderly gentleman awaited. The gatekeeper no doubt; another universal requirement.

  “Mistress Faulkner.” He rose to greet her respectfully, but his eyes were deeply suspicious. “I am Tolliver. I understand you have a message for Princess Gimi?”

  “That is correct,” Carrie answered, a little surprised by his name. Tolliver was the same name as the man she had spoken to at the spaceport. It appeared the expression was a title to denote the manager of an organization.

  “May I inquire as to the nature of your message?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry. The message is for Princess Gimi only. Can you arrange a meeting?”

  Belatedly Carrie realized someone was poking around in her mind. She squeaked and slammed her mental doors shut.

  Tolliver gasped and fell back into his chair with a shocked expression. He looked as though someone had hit him in the face with a wet towel.

  “Oh no,” Carrie gasped. “I’m so sorry.” She rushed around his desk to see how much damage she had caused. “That was clumsy of me.”

  He fended off her ministrations, apparently not injured. Carrie hurried to a sideboard and filled a glass from a standing pitcher. “Drink this,” she urged, returning to his side. She wasn’t sure what the protocol was to make up for slapping someone without warning, which clearly was what she had done.

  Tolliver recovered enough to push her away and sit up straight at his desk. Carrie returned to the other side.

  “Perhaps I should apologize,” Tolliver began. “I beg your pardon for probing too deeply.”

  Carrie brushed aside his apology. “Truly, I am very sorry. I overreacted.”

  Tolliver eyed her closely as though making a decision. “Please have a seat,” he said, nodding to one of the leather chairs in front of his desk.

  “Can you tell me who you are?” he inquired after she was seated.

  “I’m Carrie Faulkner. I have a message for Princess Gimi.”

  Tolliver gave her a sardonic expression. “So you said.” He sighed heavily. “Very well. I don’t know who you really are and obviously you are not inclined to share. But I was able to grasp that you are indeed a representative of the First Family.”

  Carrie sat quietly, waiting for him to continue.

  Tolliver sighed again. “Princess Gimi is not on this planet. She has not been for quite some time.”

  Carrie gasped at the news. “She’s not here? Do you know where she is?”

  “You may be able to find her on Cerava Four. I would think you knew that if you are indeed delivering her a message. Is your master so out of date? Who could that be, I wonder?”

  “I must see her.”

  “Who are you?” Tolliver asked again. “And what is the message?”

  Carrie closed her eyes at his stubbornness. They were at an impasse. She leaned forward and put her palms on his desk. “The blockade tried to stop us from landing. I don’t know what is going on, but I must see the princess. My master hopes she has information about the current situation with the Nobility.”

  “That’s your message?” Tolliver asked skeptically. “How can you not know what is happening when every person in the empire does? The Second Family is trying to overthrow the king.”

  That brought Carrie to a stop. So, Sadie’s concerns were well founded. It didn’t matter. That was not the issue at hand, and she was losing Tolliver’s confidence. She needed him on her side if she was going to find the princess. Or did she? She stood up abruptly.

  “Thank you for your service to our family,” she said and turned on her heel to leave the office. In the foyer, she smiled goodbye to the receptionist and left the building. On the sidewalk outside she contacted Sadie. Do you know where Cerava Four is? She asked.

  Yes, Sadie replied instantly. Under your reference system that would be planet R44. Please stand by for a moment. I’m busy with something.

  Carrie looked around for a taxi or other mode of transportation but the street traffic was light. She set off in the direction of the spaceport. Okay, but how do I call a cab around here?

  Stand by, Sadie repeated.

  Now what? Carrie thought to herself. Did that mean Sadie was calling her the cab, or that she was busy with something else? AIs were so capable it was irritating when they gave you that stand by delaying tactic. It always meant trouble.

  A shiver suddenly went down Carrie’s backside. Sadie? Are you okay?

  Stand by, Sadie replied once more.

  Was that a note of worry in Sadie’s voice? Carrie wondered. She told herself not to be ridiculous. Sadie doesn’t worry. Still, it didn’t hurt to be a little gun-shy these days. Was it the blockade? Were they retaliating? Carrie looked up, searching the sky for invaders.

  It’s quite simple, Sadie replied calmly, interrupting Carrie’s growing concern. Send a query to JF307, as though you were calling “information” on your planet, and ask for transportation companies. You will receive a list of providers in your vicinity. Be aware that many are independent and have lax standards.

  That sounded familiar. Carrie tried to imagine what Uber could do if it set up shop around the galaxy.

  You sound stressed, Sadie. Are you okay? That was a strange thing to be saying to her AI.

  Not really, but I am attempting to provide an alternative. It is proving more difficult than I had hoped.

  An alternative? For what? Carrie found her pace quickening as she hurried along the sidewalk. What do you mean? What’s going on? Carrie wasn’t prepared for the response.

  I must leave now, Sadie said. I have received a message through official channels that my presence is required on King Jinbo’s home world. The nature of the order makes me fairly certain this is bad news.

  “What?” Carrie cried out aloud, oblivious to the stares of other pedestrians. “Are we going there instead of Cerava Four?”

  You misunderstand. You and I are not going. I am afraid that I must leave you behind, here on Japurnam Five. I fear that you will not see me again. I am making arrangements for your personal effects to be held at the spaceport. Tolliver will have them.

  Carrie came to an abrupt stop. “No,” she said in disbelief; her mind filling with panic. “You can’t do that. You can’t abandon me on this planet! What about Earth? What about the Alliance?” The questions sounded foolish, even to her own ears. At that moment, she didn’t care at all about such things. The entire galaxy had suddenly become unimportant. “What about me?” Carrie screamed. All she wanted was for Sadie not to abandon her so far from home.<
br />
  The Alliance is no longer your concern, Carrie Faulkner. You have your implant and associated funds. I suggest you find a home and try to blend in. If you can disappear into the local society, you may survive. You might want to move out of the city. Perhaps you can find a young man who would like an exotic wife. I cannot delay longer. Farewell. As George would say, I apologize for doing this to you.

  The connection to Sadie closed with a certain finality.

  Sadie! Carrie sent desperately. Nothing came back. “Don’t leave me!” she screamed, breaking into a run. “For the love of God, you can’t abandon me! Sadie!” Carrie ran until her side seared with pain. She kept running until she was so spent she wanted to throw up. She sank to her knees, her body trembling while she called out Sadie’s name. A young woman about her age walking by stopped and kneeled in front of her, a worried look on her face.

  “Are you okay?” she said. “Do you want me to call someone? Your mother?”

  The last thing Carrie wanted was intervention of any kind. She pulled herself together. “I’m fine,” she said huskily, barely able to breathe. “I just received a shock.”

  “I could tell. Don’t let it get to you. You’re better off without him, I promise you.” The girl helped Carrie back to her feet. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “I am, thanks. Sorry to be a bother.” Carrie waved away any further concerns and forced herself to walk upright. She needed time to think. To understand what had happened.

  She had just been abandoned like no person in the history of her world. Lost and alone on a strange planet, farther from the sun that anyone on Earth could possibly imagine. And what had Sadie told her? If anyone knew who she was, even potential allies could become enemies.

  It was time to hide.

  Chapter 7 – Teeny Jim’s

  “One more, Macedon?” Carrie asked the officer.

  “Join me?” the man asked.

  Carrie rolled her eyes. “I don’t think your wife would appreciate that.”

  Macedon considered her reply as he examined the empty mug. “I believe you are correct, Tolliver. A nasty thought. And yes, I do need one more, now that you have soured my enjoyment of the evening.”

  Carrie chuckled to herself and filled the wooden mug from the tap.

  The introduction of wooden mugs to serve beer had been her idea and had occurred quite by accident. She was sampling a keg at a distributor’s place of business and happened to use a wooden bowl that she had bought earlier in the morning at the market square. The beer was excellent, so she put her mark on the side of the keg and the vendor promised delivery that same day.

  Once delivered to her pub, she tested a quick glass and started to scold the delivery boy for swapping kegs on her. But the mark she had inscribed was still there and clearly hers. She’d used her normal Earth signature. In retracing the purchase, she recalled the carved bowl. Another test, this time with the remembered bowl, brought a sigh of satisfaction to her lips.

  She hurriedly sent her barmaid back to the market with a handful of blue coins to purchase as many of the wooden containers as possible. The beer was a hit, but her customers were sloppy with the awkward bowls.

  The next day she commissioned an entire line of carved mugs from the same vendor, complete with sturdy handles. She experimented with different woods, but for some unknown reason only that one kind of hardwood enhanced the beer. Other bars in town soon caught on, and that started a race to find the next greatest thing.

  Carrie distanced herself from the competition. Her introduction of the new product gained her a momentary notoriety that she didn’t really want, but the mugs and a cute barmaid built up her customer base to the point that the pub was making a steady profit.

  Macedon polished off his last drink and slammed the mug on the counter. “I’m off,” he said loudly. “Good evening, Tolliver. Teeny Jim.” He saluted the teddy bear regally mounted on the wall behind Carrie. He put a coin on the bar and walked unsteadily toward the swinging saloon doors—another of her innovations.

  Macedon’s place was quickly taken by another; a tough-looking man with chiseled features and a scarred face. His graying beard and mustache hid a more affable nature than one might suppose at first glance.

  “You treat the constable well, Tolliver,” the man said.

  “It wouldn’t pay to do otherwise, Germander,” Carrie replied.

  “True. You've got a head for business. You’ve done well in the months since you opened.”

  “More luck than anything else. I told you how I stumbled upon these ridiculous mugs. I’d rather be lucky than good any day, as my dad used to say.”

  “I’m with you. One more for me as well, then?”

  “Coming up.” Carrie filled his mug and set it before the man. “You still heading out tomorrow?”

  “Unless this new charterer chickens out. But I don’t think he will. He was talking earlier today that this will be highly profitable.”

  “Where to this time?” Carrie asked.

  “Blakeon Three.”

  “Is that close to Cerava Four?” Carrie asked soulfully.

  “I’m afraid not; different direction. Why? Want to say hello to your father?”

  “I would love to,” Carrie said honestly. “But he passed on years ago. That’s why I left.”

  “Ever think about going back?”

  “All the time. But it’s hard to do with no money. You’re the one who tells me that blockade running is expensive business.”

  Germander nodded again. “And getting more so. When will it end?”

  “What got it started, eh?” Another man joined Germander with the question. “That’s what I want to know. What is it with these Nobility families anyway? Why do they feel the need to ruin our lives?”

  Germander looked uncomfortable and glanced over his shoulder. “Quit being an idiot, Julep. None of that talk or we’ll all be in trouble.”

  Julep really was an idiot. Carrie didn’t like him in the pub because he was always complaining; about the weather or the price of beer, and lately, about royalty. No one appreciated that kind of talk. When the subject came up, the topic of spies was an inevitable afterthought for conversation and she liked that even less.

  “Another for me?” Julep pleaded. “I need one for the road too.”

  “You’ve had enough,” Carrie said forcefully. “I won’t have your drunken mouth getting me in trouble when you leave. Go on, now. Go home.”

  Julep gave her an angry look, but subsided quickly when Germander turned his bulk to face him head on. “She’s giving you good advice, man. Follow it, for all our sakes.”

  Julep made a show of huffing and puffing but backed down and left the pub.

  “You’re a bold woman, Tolliver.” Germander said appreciatively.

  Carrie gave him a coy smile. “Only because handsome men such as you are around for protection. Little old ladies like me only survive because of that.”

  Germander laughed at her words. “No one has called me handsome in a hundred years, Tolliver. If you had fewer gray hairs, I might be tempted.” He downed his last beer with a flourish. “I’m off as well.”

  “Come see me when you get back,” Carrie said sincerely. “First round is free for a returning pilot.”

  Germander grinned. “You know the way to a man’s heart. I’ll take you up on that.” He waved to the crowd and left.

  It was late and one by one the remaining patrons drifted out. The last man had to be encouraged. It was the same every night; usually an unmarried man or a stranger from out of town, with no home to return to. When the final straggler had departed, Carrie went out front and made sure no one had fallen asleep outside her establishment. The sidewalk was clear. She glanced up at the lighted sign, “Teeny Jim.” It was written in the local script and the sign-maker had added an artistic flourish that gave it a welcoming appearance. Back inside she shut off the lights and locked the door.

  Security on, she told her house AI.

 
Perimeter security established, it replied.

  The AI had cost more than twice the annual income the pub would bring in, but it gave her peace of mind. And besides, the late king had paid for it, thanks to Sadie’s backdoor bookkeeping.

  With everything secure, Carrie trudged up the back stairs to her small apartment. When that door too was locked, she sighed and looked around her flat. It wasn’t much, but it was home now; a refuge from the scary world that Japurnam Five had become.

  She had a salad with some crackers as a late dinner and then exercised for thirty minutes. It was a discipline she adopted the week after Sadie departed. That was when she was feeling particularly sorry for herself. The healthy routine lifted her out of the depression she had fallen into. She wasn’t sure what she would do with her life, but being fit would help accomplish whatever she decided on.

  In the kitchenette, she filled her electric tea kettle and set it to boil. The cup of hot tea was her bedtime ritual. More importantly it helped her sleep soundly with fewer nightmares.

  While the machine hissed, Carrie went into the bathroom for a quick shower. She glanced in the mirror, still not used to her changed appearance. Thanks to Dr. Owens’s tutoring, Carrie had successfully altered her appearance after being abandoned here on Japurnam Five. An old woman gazed back; almost the same reflection she had seen when leaving Bradley’s Planet, a lifetime ago. After deciding to go underground, a comforting discovery was that beyond a certain age, women became invisible to society. It gave her a much-desired anonymity.

  Once in bed, she sat quietly enjoying her tea, wondering what she would do with her life. As Sadie had urged, Carrie had blended into the culture, an unseen publican in a sea of faces. That had been the first step. But now what? No matter how many times she turned the question over in her mind, the answer didn’t present itself. Too many options with too much risk. She was surprised at how fearful she had become; fear of being exiled for a thousand years, fear of discovery, and worst of all, fear of losing her will to search for a solution.

  Carrie set her cup on the nightstand and snuggled under the covers . Turn the lights out, she told the house AI.