by Jim Rudnick
“He needs to be rewarded, then. That’s not surprising, based on the little that we know. But more than that, we should perhaps try to look into the coalition military strength on Jannah. Who is there and in what numbers? Plus, I just realized, we also need to do an audit on the coalition ships and their crews too, and I’ll look at someone to handle that for us,” Bram said.
Ambassador Harmon nodded. “I’d suggest Major Stal look at that information and give us a military opinion.”
Before Bram could reply, AI chimed and announced the steward would arrive shortly with Bram’s meal.
“That’ll be my cue to leave,” the ambassador said and stood.
Bram leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I’ll update you soon as there is anything new.”
Shortly after the ambassador left, the steward brought in Bram’s meal. Bram was ready to set up the EYES ONLY Ansible with the mission partners, but before he did that, he tried to finish his meal. Using his fork, he pushed the macaroni and cheese around on his plate. He squeezed some more ketchup onto his plate, added a swirl to a full forkful of macaroni and cheese, and tucked it into his mouth. This was one of his favorite meals. He enjoyed macaroni and cheese, and with ketchup, it was a real meal.
He tried to remember when he’d first eaten this dish and came up empty. It had always been a part of his childhood on Eons, and he remembered his nanny—a Mournful mother—had a child too that loved same. While his parents were both away at work, he remembered, the nanny would make lunch, and then while Bram ate, she fed her son who was about the same age as he was. The boy’s name was … was … I can’t remember—wait, it was Eric. Eric was a Mournful, and that meant that he was unable to do much for himself. He had blond hair, so blond it was almost white, Bram remembered. He remembered Eric had sat and fixated on something in front of him or near to him, and Eric had done nothing but stare at that object. He couldn’t, Bram remembered now, wipe his nose or do much for himself but blink. Nanny had come in to the family room every ten minutes to look at him and make sure he was okay, but she had also paid attention to Bram too.
He hadn’t thought of Eric now in more than twenty years, and he wondered whatever happened to the Mournful. Even now, thinking about the Issian word for this kind of disorder bothered him—not politically correct was how he’d put it. In fact, he now wondered more about this whole group of challenged Issians, and he decided to put it in his personal log and make it a point to discuss same with the Master Adept the next time they met.
As he chewed the macaroni and cheese, he shook his head one more time and tried to focus once again on the Tunander Coalition.
No constitution. No way on paper then for a member to leave. The only way that might work, would be to buy their way out, if the price was right for Tunander.
Bram knew it wasn’t as good as it could be, but at least the decision of what to do would be made by the duke and his partners.
He used the edge of his fork to scoop up the last part of his meal, including the rest of the ketchup too. He grinned at himself as he sat looking at the view-screen on the exterior bulkhead wall. He had it set to show the exterior of the landing port, and he’d noticed there was little traffic in and out of Oirus. Too little, he thought, to indicate a viable lively economy. That was another story, but he was a navy captain and not some kind of an academic, so he put that thought away. Then he pulled it right back up front in his consciousness. Maybe he’d get the helmsman to ask landing authority for some kind of logs on the ins and outs of ships. That way, he’d at least have some stats to give to the duke too.
He slid the plate back onto the tray and said, “AI, find me my steward.”
After a moment, there was a double knock on his door.
“Enter,” he said, and his steward came in with a hot cup of coffee—Blue mountain he’d asked for this time—and he placed it on the desk in front of him and swept away the tray and dirty dishes.
Bram sat for a moment sipping the too-hot coffee and then sighed. He clicked the on button on his console, and the monitor came on. In moments, the Ansible officer on the Crimson I’s bridge appeared on the screen.
“Sir, we have confirmations for the EYES ONLY from all three of the receiving parties. Whenever you want, we can connect, Sir,” he said.
He nodded at Lieutenant Brush and said, “You’re good to go, Lieutenant.”
Moments later, the monitor faded to black, and then there appeared four panes on the screen, and as the connections were made, the faces of the Duke d’Avigdor, the Baroness of Neres, and the Caliph of Neria appeared.
They made small talk after their hellos, and in less than a minute, the duke said, “An update, please, Captain, on what you have learned so far, if you please?”
Bram went through the notes in front of him. He remembered to thank the partners for sending him the ambassador since his help already had been fruitful. First, he went through the initial meeting with the Tunander and shared his opinion that he was in fact a dictator.
Next, he related the details of his visit to the other three Tunander Coalition planets and shared his thoughts on each. He also noted their economic situations and what he—well, he and the ambassador too—thought of their future.
Bram moved on to the meeting with the delegates from Jannah. He explained that the Jannah agricultural minister had visited and had offered—well, almost offered—that they’d leave the Tunander Coalition for access to the Hope solar distillation technology. Bram shared that the Jannah representatives had expressed they had no preference whether they joined the RIM Confederacy as their own realm or joined an already established member’s realms.
Finally, Bram expressed that—in his and Ambassador Harmon’s opinion—one way to get Jannah to leave the coalition was to simply buy their way out and prevent any kind of violence. Bram stated that buying them out could be easy as the Barony Drive had the whole Tunander Coalition drooling for access to same. It was a bargaining chip that could be played to great advantage for the RIM Confederacy—at least in his opinion.
He stopped then and the partners had no further questions. He thanked them for their time and then signed off.
He would have loved to be a part of the conversation between the partners. But that was not to be. He’d been told earlier that the duke would send back instructions after the three of them made a mission decision based on the information Bram reported to them.
In the top right-hand corner of his monitor screen, an incoming message icon was flashing, and he clicked it and saw there was an incoming off-world request for a meeting from Parauda.
He looked out once more on the landing field. There was room for more than fifty ships, but there were exactly three—the Crimson I, the Defiant, and one ship of the line from the Tunander Coalition.
He thought it strange once again, but then all here in Warlord space had been strange. Still, he acknowledged the message and accepted the meeting time and date for the day after tomorrow in the morning.
And he sat back. More to do, of course, like reports to sign off on and thinking on what the Parauda meeting might mean and how to prepare for it … he thought and sighed.
Captaincy was a great thing that had happened to him, but it seemed so much more time intensive than simply being an Adept Officer.He clicked the reports folder and sighed as he saw there were twenty-three of same waiting for his attention.
CHAPTER SIX
The ship was white—which was not that strange—but the whole ship was white. There wasn’t a single different color anywhere else. Even the frigate’s engine cones were white, and that was something only an engineer could arrange. Bram sighed. Of course, it was white—weren’t the Parauda colors white on white? Bram recalled all those trailers over Ventos, Jannah, and Parauda were white too. He watched as the ship came down on its InertialDrive and landed about ten spaces over from the Crimson I.
He smiled as he noted that because the ship was from within the coalition, there was no gree
ting party of Customs and Health, nor was there any kind of official greeting party. He wondered about that for a moment and then shrugged.
Just a visit from a cousin was how he looked at it—most likely just like the Oirus landing authority did.
Works for me, he thought, and he watched on the bridge view-screen as it took about five minutes for the ship to drop her landing ramp. Four men dressed completely in white—at least as far as he could see— walked down the ramp in a marching step. They wheeled at the bottom of their ramp and then aimed over at his ship. He watched for a moment and then left the comm with his science officer.
“Major and XO, you’re with me, please,” Bram said, and the three of them left the bridge to go down to Deck Two and the same conference room used for the meeting with the Jannah representatives..
“Sir,” Alver said, “maybe we should just have the stewards set this room on constant meeting status—seems like a way to stay ahead of whomever might want to meet next.”
That got a chuckle from all three of them. Bram thanked his steward team for the quick setup and saw that it was very similar to the previous meeting. Refreshments and hors d’oeuvres had been set out, and the other side of the table held only four chairs this time.
Moments later, they were seated at that same table with Alver to Bram’s left and the XO to his right. The door slid open and the ship’s Provost guards entered with their guests. They exchanged introductions and then the visitors sat.
Their visitors wore white uniforms with almost no decoration of badges, ribbons, sashes, or shoulder epaulets. Even their sleeves had no stripes and the buttons were plain, Bram saw. The only way to tell who was of what rank was the single badge on each side of their collar. It was nice to see, Bram noticed, that the major who sat opposite him and was the senior officer wore a gold oak leaf.
He smiled at the major and asked, ”Do you care for any refreshment?”
“Not at this time. We, instead, wish to get to our reason for this meeting, if that would be appropriate with you?” the major asked.
He looked to be in his mid-thirties. So just a few years older than me, Bram thought. The major was of average size, weight, and height too. He had short hair, blue eyes, and a small scar on one very tanned cheek.
“Certainly, we can get right to business, Major. But we’d like to say that we did enjoy our short flyover of your planet a few days ago. We didn’t really see much, but it is a beautiful planet, we all thought,” he said. That was platonic enough, he thought.
The major nodded but barely, Bram noticed, and then he spoke in what Bram considered to be a matter-of-fact voice. “Captain Sander. We are the representatives of the Parauda Military Government. We are here on their behalf. We have been charged with the duty to bring to your attention that Parauda wishes to make an official statement to you. A statement that you will need to understand will serve as notice of action. If you—or any of your RIM Confederacy representatives—make any attempt to disrupt the Tunander Coalition in any way, then we will take you under arrest and have you or the guilty parties charged with treason. The crime of treason here in the Tunander Coalition is a capital offense and punishment will be carried out immediately upon the verdict being given, by the Tunander himself. Do you understand this official notice?”
He just stared at Bram and said nothing else. The others sat looking at him as well. No one said anything.
Bram tapped a finger on the table, as he sent out a mental tendril to search the major’s mind. Unsurprisingly, what he found was as he’d thought. The major was just a messenger. All he knew was that the Parauda Military Government had given him the mission to convey the official notice. But that was not the real power there, Bram knew—this came from the Tunander himself.
He would have loved to say many things, but being a captain had changed that.
“Then yes, Major, I have heard you, and I understand your notice. I do not agree with it, but that is for another day. And a small reminder, Sir, that the realms that are a part of the RIM Confederacy are generally not the kind of folks who take threats as a matter of course. We, instead, act as we always have, and what you imply might lead to an altercation. And we win all altercations—just so you know, Major,” he said, and he leaned toward the Parauda soldiers and slammed his hand down on the table.
The noise made the other side of the table flinch just a bit.
Bingo, Bram thought. They know that already. That’s a good sign.
Bram nodded and said, “This meeting is over—and just a small tip, Major. If you ever come back here looking to arrest anyone, I’d bring a lot more men than the four of you.” He spat those words out, stood, and stared at them.
Everyone sitting on the other side of the table rose, turned on their heels, and walked out with their Provost guard escorts.
Bram sat back down and looked first to his XO. “Daika—any comments?”
She shrugged. “Seems that they were just here to deliver a message—but I think it comes from the coalition dictator, not their government. Shouldn’t be a problem though, our own forces are so well trained and all …” she said.
Major Stal nodded to that and added his own take on the very short meeting. “From where I sit, they, yes, were just here to intimidate us. To tell us that the Jannah meeting cannot be acted on. To tell us that they’re watching. And that there may be a—what, an altercation I think you called it, Bram? And I can say my marines will make short work of them for sure,” he finished off.
Bram nodded. He agreed with both of them and then thanked them for their help, and the meeting broke up. Bram took the stairs down to Deck One and then walked over to look out of the wide-open portal on the Crimson I’s landing deck.
Across the pads, the white Parauda ship was powering up; going home, he suspected. In moments, she climbed up on her InertialDrive and was on her way.
#####
The duke nodded, asked an off-camera steward for a refill, and then held up his hands. “Wait … wait. Let’s not argue. Here’s where we are—at least right now,” he said.
The Caliph shook his head, and the Baroness nodded in agreement. The Caliph had been more than adamant that they needed to make a real solid move on their first acquisition in Warlord space. “We can’t just let the Jannah world join as a full member. That—”
“Enough,” Tanner said, and he tried to recount what they had agreed too—as little as it was.
Tanner was in his private study on this EYES ONLY conference call. From what he could see around the Caliph, he was in his tent palace, but Tanner didn’t recognize the room. And the Baroness was on a patio, as behind her lay the well-kept Barony Palace gardens and pools, and the usual glass of wine sat beside her elbow.
“We agreed that we want Jannah to come over to the RIM Confederacy, right?” Tanner questioned.
The Caliph and Baroness agreed and nodded.
“We also agreed that if they are to leave, then that action will most likely cause the coalition to fight to keep them, right?”
Again, the two heads nodded.
“And, we also think that the only way to avoid that is to buy the planet from the coalition, so to speak—correct?”
The Baroness nodded, and the Caliph did as well.
“And the sticking point is that some of us—well, the Caliph only—feels that we should not make the offer to Jannah to join the RIM Confederacy on their own—”
“Which,” the Baroness interrupted, “will force them to become a realm of a RIM Confederacy member. Which while sounding good, is not the whole truth,” she said.
Tanner was a bit surprised by that, as he suspected the Baroness wanted Jannah for the Barony, but he had to take what she said at face value.
The Caliph nodded. “We think that the way for this first acquisition to go is—we, one of us, buys them out from the coalition. Period.”
Tanner smiled. A way ahead had just come to him.
“Then here’s what I think. We as a partnership do no
t pick a way to go ahead. Instead, I propose this idea. That if you, Caliph, or you, Baroness, want to own the Jannah world, then you have to make a bid for it. You set the price that you think you need to pay—and you send to Oirus your own delegates with your offer. Will that work for you both? Oh, and just to help, we—the Duchy—are going to pass on this opportunity. So that leaves you two alone in the running. Are we all good with that proposal?”
The Baroness sipped her wine and then looked at the camera after studying her gardens. “I agree. The partnership is good to find these opportunities—but yes, at the basis of all this is my want to grow the Barony. So yes, I agree,” she said.
The Caliph spoke last. “Agreed. We will send our team first thing tomorrow—but a reminder for our mission already on Oirus. They are not to interfere with our Caliphate diplomats. Not at all. Agreed?”
And both Tanner and the Baroness nodded.
The conference call ended. That had gone … well, it had gone okay, Tanner thought.
The opportunity was now before the Barony and the Caliphate. They’d each work out what they thought was the right offer and then make it. It was up to the dictator to decide.
What was unusual, Tanner thought, was that neither had come up with an alternate idea. If the partnership had chosen to invade and take over the whole coalition, they would have had four planets to divvy up. Tanner knew it might have taken some real work by their marines, but it was just another way to acquire worlds.
Tanner thought about that for a moment.
He knew that he wanted to expand the Duchy d’Avigdor—but only if the realm wanted to join them. No force, no check, no threats make any sense to me. That, he thought, was perfectly in line with what the late duke had believed and had done.
