by Jim Rudnick
As they finished up in the big cargo bay, Professor Scholes spoke up as they were leaving the cargo bay doors. “Is it time for the bridge now?”
They’d all known that was one item requiring complete and further study. However, taking a Praix, even one under the watchful eyes of their armed marines, into a live bridge area was something that was rife with the chance for a threatening situation to occur.
“Let’s call it a day. We’ve notes here to transcribe, and I need to send off that report to the powers that be, so let’s pick it up tomorrow in the AM with the bridge tour,” Reynolds said.
All nodded and they slowly went back down walkway nineteen to where it joined with number one and then exited the ship.
#####
As it had been instructed to, the AI in the conference room said, “Captain, there are three members of the agricultural ministry from Jannah on their way in to meet with you, and they should be there in less than a minute.”
Typically, the AI on any ship spoke with a male voice and with no discernible accent or distinguishing characteristic at all. As he was now a captain, Bram wondered if he could have the AI’s voice changed. Maybe the AI voice could be changed to a DenKoss fish voice, he thought, and that almost made him laugh right out loud, but he suppressed that as the door to the conference room opened.
Two Provost guards moved to either side, and in walked the XO and then the Jannah group.
He tried not to raise his eyebrows, but he did think of Tillion for a moment as these were certainly more than well-dressed diplomats. Unlike the Tillions, they didn’t wear hats, but all had shoulder-length brown hair. They were all about five and a half feet tall, of average size and weight, but the clothing had him staring.
The pants and boots were bright, bright silver shades topped with jet-black short coats. I he thought. A mandarin collar was tight around each neck with an insignia on the collar fringes. Down the front of the jacket were two rows of silver buttons only inches apart but all done up tightly. Each cuff had matching silver buttons, but only three in a row so the cuffs could perhaps be undone and rolled up. On the chest was nothing, but just below it were two big slash pockets that ran right around to the sides. Looks just plain uncomfortable ... and hot, Bram thought, as he and the ambassador rose to meet their guests.
The XO looked after the introductions, and they exchanged handshakes as was the custom on Jannah, Bram thought, and then everyone took a seat as the XO left them and sealed the doors behind her.
The agricultural minister, Anatole Markulin, as he’d been introduced, was now seated in the middle of the three, and he leaned forward to speak first.
Before he could even take a breath, Ambassador Harmon interrupted him. “So very nice to have you here with us—even though this was a surprise, we do welcome you all and would have you note that over there,” he said as he gestured toward the close wall and the catering table, “we have some light refreshments and drinks of juice or water. Plus right in front of you, there are pitchers and glasses of local Oirus water too, should that appeal more to you.”
The Jannah people nodded and then all except for the minister looked over at the tables. The minister’s eyes never left Bram's, and he once again leaned forward to speak after nodding to the ambassador. Bram thought it was an almost “thanks but no thanks” kind of nod, but he did give the minister the benefit of the doubt.
“Captain, we come to you today in the hopes that a frank and honest discussion might be possible. We were so disappointed that yesterday you chose not to stop to meet with us and just to fly over Jannah. So we immediately got in our fastest ship to come here as directly as possible. Of course, we do not have the speed that this ship does—we use the regular TachyonDrive and it did take quite a bit more time—but we do need to speak to you. You are RIM Confederacy representatives, correct?”
Bram nodded and said, “Yes, we are here in your Warlord space to begin talks with any realms that might be interested in trade discussions with the RIM Confederacy. Might that be of interest to you, as representatives of Jannah?”
That put it right in his lap, Bram thought and he waited ... and waited while the agricultural minister seemed to be weighing that query.
He must have come to some answer in his own mind as he eventually nodded and provided his own thoughts. “We seek frank discussion. We carry, with us, the full authorization of the Jannah local government to begin discussions, yes, to seek trade opportunities with the RIM. More importantly, we are also under some time constraints as well so that may have a bearing on our talks,” he said.
Time constraints, Bram knew, in any kind of negotiations usually gave one side a huge opportunity to cut a deal that was much more in their own favor. If this minister did not know that, then he shouldn’t be sitting at the trade deal table. Yet here he was. That caused Bram some anxiety, but he chose to ignore that for now.
“Might we ask up front—and I think I have this correct—but you here today speak on behalf of Jannah. And that is the planet itself—and not for any part of the Tunander Coalition. Correct?”
The three Jannah representatives across the table from him all nodded in unison.
“Then I guess I’d now like to ask what is it you have in mind—just as a way of us getting some of the facts on the table, so to speak?” he followed up with.
The minister smiled just a touch. “We—Jannah that is—are interested very much—greatly one might say—in the technology that we only recently learned is available only in the RIM Confederacy, from the planet called Hope. At least that’s what we think is the name of the planet who has this technology. Might I ask—are you at all familiar with what is called ion-exchange membrane desalination?”
Bram and Ambassador Harmon, who sat beside him, shook their heads.
“Very well, in any case, what we want is that brand new technology for Jannah. The planet of Hope is a water planet much like our own with more than eighty percent coverage of oceans. And the people of Hope have invented, we understand, a way to use free solar power to force the salt ocean waters through an ionic membrane—removing all salt and chlorine atoms from the resulting pure water. This pure water can, of course, be drinking water—but more importantly for Jannah, it can be irrigation water. Water that up until now, we pay far too much for which affects our whole planetary economy.” He sat back then and waited.
Bram thought about what he’d just heard and mulled it around. Sounds like these Jannah folks think the coalition charges far too much money for their use of irrigation waters for the agricultural-based economy. That means Jannah is looking for a change—and the simple import of the Hope distillation technology would do more than give them much cheaper water—it would probably mean they’d be leaving the Coalition as that change would not be allowed by Tunander.
Before Bram could address that, Ambassador Harmon spoke up.
“We understand then what it is you’re after—and while neither of us, I believe, has information on that Hope technology, might we ask then why there might be some kind of time constraint with this trade item?”
Bingo, Bram thought. Yes, let’s get all their cards on the table.
The minister nodded and put it simply to them. “We are in the middle of harvests on Jannah. Next season will be our winter, so the lands are fallow, and then the next season, it’s planting time and then growing season—and that takes water. Millions and millions of gallons of water, I would add.”
Ah, that explains the time constraints, Bram thought. “So, Minister, what you’re interested in,” he said, trying to find a way to get the man to lay all his cards down, “is the Hope solar distillation technology. But what can you offer in its place that might be of equal value?”
They sat for a moment, and then one of the other Jannah representatives nudged the minister and said in a very audible whisper, ”Do it, Anatole,” and the minister nodded in response.
“If that technology holds out the promise we need, we would then not need th
e—the ‘protectorship’ that the coalition offers us now. We would become a realm looking to become a full RIM Confederacy member or even a realm of a current one.
“I am sorry—I know that this is so sudden … but you must understand the huge issues that play out on Jannah every season, and we’d be more than prepared to sit down with whomever the RIM Confederacy might want to discuss this in detail. Might I also add that this is frank discussion—but we ask that it remain among us here in the room only. Confidential, that is?”
That got a quick nod and agreement from both the ambassador and Bram.
The Jannah cards were out on the table all right. They wanted to trade and at the highest level. Bram wondered what to say next, but he lost the opportunity to speak next when the minister suddenly rose.
“The Tunander knows we were here. He knows that we talked. So our story is that we came here in person to meet with the RIM Confederacy diplomats and to tell them what a wonderful planet that Jannah is—and to make a date for a real live tour of the planet in the next few weeks. That is our story, and if I could ask, if you back this up, then that should alleviate any thinking else-wise on the Tunander’s behalf.”
Bram thought that this too was smart, and he agreed to same in a heartbeat. They made small talk about Jannah, specifically how beautiful it was with the planet’s two full moons shining down on those great lakes and the snow-covered mountains around them in the winter.
Moments later, their guests had left, and Bram and the ambassador were standing alone in the open bay of the landing deck. They turned to face each other.
“Guess I need to do some investigation on the Hope technology,” Bram said.
That got a nod from the ambassador. “And I’ll see if I can find out if there is a Tunander Coalition Constitution or something similar. If Jannah wants out, then we’d like that to be as simple as possible without any threat of violence.”
That got a nod from Bram, and they spun to go back across the landing deck to take the lift up to the bridge.
#####
She seldom did this, but this time was different. She lay on the warm beach sand with a coconut drink at her side. Probably in the eighties today, she thought, but that’s just fine. Can request a cold drink ... anything, really ... whenever I want.
Owning a resort meant she was able to just Ansible in a request for anything from a cold drink to the biggest and best accommodations, regardless of who might be staying in same. Hustled off, and stuffed full of credits, the honeymoon couple who had left not two hours ago would have a great story to tell their kids in the years to come. She had the big suite, and the resort staff did nothing but watch her for any sign she might be missing something or want something.
The fact that she was the Baroness, and that the planet belonged to her too, was another thing. She smiled and one finger curled up against her thigh as the long fingernail scratched an itch. Her bikini was about the smallest she’d ever seen, and there was no one here to appreciate it. Well, no one other than staff, she thought, and they didn’t count.
She scratched once again on that spot, but this time with all the perfectly manicured fingernails on her right hand. The itch went away.
She grinned to herself as she thought she could have called a beach boy to help her with that. “A beach boy,” she said to herself, and she smiled once more. She sighed as the light breezes wafted over her, fluttering the edge of her towel against her leg.
A few minutes ago, she had looked off toward the horizon. Bottle was a world of blue. Blue pools. Blue bar counters. Blue ocean. Blue sky, and the horizon was a lifetime away but blue.
She wondered if noticing that meant she too might be blue as well. Probably not. I have every single thing I ever wanted. I handled my future as it came and knew when to make a move and when not to—but that hadn’t happened much. Opportunities came and I grabbed them.
She thought—or she admitted—that she felt that she was quite talented at choosing the people to surround herself with. While some, like the late baron, couldn’t see her mind because of the body in front of him, which had been the key for her to get out of the pleasure trade. The day after he had visited the pleasure gardens she had worked in, he’d asked her to marry him, and she had done so. In fact, he had begged her and told her about what Royal life could be for her and that as his wife, she would be the most important thing in his life—more than any of his planets—and more, he had said, than his own daughter, the Lady St. August.
His daughter was now the Duchess d’Avigdor as well as the heir to the Barony too.
One day, she knew, the Barony and the Duchy d’Avigdor would be one—merged via the Royal line.
She smiled again. Beach boy. I like that term. Not that I have any needs for a male in her life. It is so much more fun parading in front of them and watching their reaction. Males of any species are so easy to tease ... and then to bend to my will.
She sighed one more time as she thought about the daily EYES ONLY report she’d taken during her breakfast this morning.
Over an ample serving of vanilla yogurt with granola and some of those delightful Garnuthian pecans, she’d started up her tablet and glanced at the news from Neres City. It appeared not much was new. There was an issue over on Ishtar with some rare earth import duties, and she’d delegate that one. Prime Minister Lazaro had requested a meeting over upcoming union issues that he had said might cause his economy a reset, and she’d agree to that but would need her labor advisers there as well—and she gave that one to her aides to set up.
There was a note about a conference she might want to consider over on Conclusion, and again, the aides would handle that. She nodded over the rest and noted there was no news from Ghayth and the Praix-slash-Issian tour as yet. But down at the bottom of the report, she did see a note from Admiral Vennamo. She drilled down on that one, as navy news was always well worth the read.
Her admiral shared that Captain Magnusson had resigned his captaincy in the Barony Navy. She thought about that for a moment before she finished the report.
Magnusson had impressed her when she had first learned about the man. He seemed to be eager for promotion as his ambition was a major force in his life. She had given him some direct missions, and he’d been well worth the interest. But then the Praix attack had gone so wrong. She knew that as the captain of the Defiant, he’d surely been one of the major forces that had gotten her marines to the exact spot to confront the Praix. But the unexplained attack by him on the Praix was unexplained until his court martial, and that was the real eye-opener, she knew.
The Issians had controlled him, like a robot, she thought, to do their bidding, which was a total surprise. No one had seen that as even a remote possibility, but there it was for all to see. Issians had the power—however seldom used—to control them all. That is something I’ll have to consider more—not today on the beach but back at home with wine.
She went back to the report and had been shocked to see that Magnusson had not only left her employ in the Barony Navy, but he had accepted an admiralty position with the Caliphate Navy.
“Argh,” she had yelled, and then she had thrown her spoon out onto the sand in front of the breakfast patio at her resort. She hadn’t cursed, which she did pride herself on, as it was a habit she’d broken.
Magnusson was now an admiral. Instead of accepting the repositioning that her own admiral had fought her for—Vennamo had thought it made no sense to take Magnusson off the admiral track due to his unknowing culpability in the Praix matter—she had parked him on Amasis on their space station. Vennamo had not liked that and made it an item she’d brought up in her weekly talks with her.
A career parking, for sure, but still, why had the Caliph made such an offer? And why had Magnusson chosen a new career with the Caliphate Navy?
She had left her tablet on the table as she strode back to her suite and changed to go lie on the beach. Now, hours later, she still had no idea as to why this had happened and who had
arranged for it either.
The Caliph? But why?
Magnusson? But why?
She tilted her head toward the surf and placed the straw coming out of the coconut between her lips. She drew a large ice-cold mouthful of the rum and coconut juice up through the straw. “Tastes great,” she said to herself.
Her questions about Magnusson still bothered her. She rolled halfway to her right and propped herself up with an elbow in the sand.
Still blue out there … still blue …
#####
Bram had spent the day reviewing reports and working on creating the report on the Jannah agricultural meeting of yesterday. It had taken the remainder of the day yesterday for Ambassador Harmon to follow through on his thoughts of trying to find a Tunander Coalition Constitution. And there wasn’t one. Like most, or perhaps all dictatorships, if that was what one might call the coalition, the constitution existed only in the dictator’s head.
Bram now sat in his quarters with Ambassador Harmon to learn if the additional time had paid off. The ambassador had found some help in that, like all dictatorships, the dictator wanted to provide at least the appearance of having an arm’s length distance between him and his judicial system. So Harmon had asked to see past case law and had been provided with archives of past court documents. The fact that they were poorly organized and hard to search through was the bad thing that came along with all those petabytes of data. Still, the ambassador had attempted to search, and after a long night, followed by asking for more time this morning, he had reached an answer.
“In the coalition, Bram, there is nothing preventing any member from leaving—except the power of the dictator himself. That would mean that unless there was a benefit—a huge benefit to Tunander—he’d never let Jannah go. At least that’s how I see it, and the case law proves that only no one else has ever left the Tunander Coalition. Ever, was the active word there, Bram,” he said as he shrugged at the same time.
