by Jim Rudnick
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The trip from Birdland to Noriega took only seconds using the Barony Drive, and as soon as they arrived and popped back into real space, the klaxons went off. Surrounding the area in low orbit above the planet were three destroyers and a handful of cruisers. All had shields up, and all bristled with weapons arrays at the ready.
“XO, I want scans down below on the capital city—we want the warlord’s location. Ansible, talk to whomever thinks they’re in charge up here. Tell them we want Warlord Noriega for the unprovoked attack and destruction of a RIM Confederacy ship, the Gibraltar.”
He sat in the captain’s chair, and like the rest of the bridge crew, he waited for a reply or sign of action. On one side of him sat Admiral Vennamo and the Ambassador, both staring at the view-screen sidebar. Major Stal stood off to his left and was already wearing full marine armor, and he carried his helmet under his arm. Everyone on the ship was ready, and the message of BATTLE STATIONS was displayed everywhere. The red light from the alert cast an eerie glow all over the bridge.
The wait was not long, and the view-screen now changed from an orbital shot of the planet below to a man’s face.
“Admiral Ginert here. You are intruding on the Noriega space—you are required to leave in one minute, else face the combined firepower of all the vessels you see here.”
He looked like he was serious, and Bram couldn’t resist. “Admiral—I am sure that by now you’ve heard about the unprovoked attack on a RIM Confederacy vessel—the Gibraltar—by one of your own Noriega Navy ships. The Gibraltar was destroyed—along with more than six hundred crewmen and officers. We also fought off the attacking ship, which is probably trying to limp home, but at TachyonDrive speeds, it will be a while.
“You should, however, read any reports that they’ve sent back to you on our ship—pay careful attention to the parts that state it is invulnerable to your attacks of any kind of weapon.
“We also know that this attack was threatened by your warlord himself. So we are here to arrest your dictator and take him back to the RIM Confederacy for trial. You will turn over the warlord to us, now.”
His voice had been firm but polite. He had spelled out for the admiral what was expected. He had not specified a time frame to adhere to though, he realized, so he added that now. “And you now have five minutes to turn over your warlord for trial. Else, we will do that ourselves.”
There, Bram thought, that spells it out even easier for him.
The view-screen went dark as the admiral cut his connection off and they waited. On the view-screen sidebar, a set of coordinates appeared for Warlord Noriega with the notation that AI had located the warlord and placed him in the administration building below on the planet’s landing port. Second floor of that building was as close as the AI could place him, but that was good enough for RIM marines.
When the first minute of the five Bram had given Admiral Ginert passed, Bram expected the Crimson I would be taking hits—but that did not happen.
As the deadline of five minutes that he had set came closer, Bram rose. “XO, the comm is yours, unless the admiral would rather …”
Vennamo waved him off.
“We’re on our way, track the Defiant, and let us know about any updates,” Bram saved and he followed Alver to the lift, down to the shuttle deck, and aboard the Defiant.
Along for the ride were twenty more marines, all suited, armed, and, of course, wearing their power belts. Bram clicked his belt on and smiled at Alver. Bram too had donned the same suit as the marines, and at his side, the weapon of choice for this kind of work when wearing a power belt, was his .454 Casull revolver.
“Let’s get this done, Major,” he said, and the Defiant swung out of the Crimson I shuttle bay and twisted as she dove to the planet’s surface.
Three of the Noriega ships lying there launched a few quick missiles at the Defiant. And hit they did, but as the Defiant was clad in the red metal Xithricite hull plating, all three of the missiles were snuffed out. No explosions. No penetration of the Defiant’s hull either. It was no surprise to the XO who watched from above and no surprise to Bram on board the Defiant either.
“That might show them that we’re here to do what we said,” he said, and those in the landing bay nodded.
They flew down at Mach 3, and then the pilot swerved at the last moment to halt the ship perfectly above the tarmac on the landing field. There were no other ships down at this moment, which made sense, Bram figured, as they’d all be up above to try to threaten the Crimson I with sheer numbers.
Didn’t work, he thought and grinned to himself. He nodded to Alver as he got his own helmet. “Your show, Major—let’s go!” Like the other marines, Bram got in the lineup as the landing ramp jutted out of the Defiant and then banged down on the macadam.
“Building straight ahead, second floor. Rules of engagement—no aggression by us. You may wound if needed, but no casualties if at all possible,” played in Bram’s helmet speakers as he ran with the squad. They went straight across the tarmac and were met by no one. Well in the distance stood three guards near what looked like an access point into the landing field. They stood and watched but did nothing else.
Good, Bram thought as he pounded along behind the marines.He realized he was slowly falling behind and two marines were flanking him at his own pace. He tried to speed up a bit, and they kept pace too. The entrance to the building came up quickly in front of the running group.
The major went up the stairs and then across a big rotunda that was totally deserted. As they all climbed the stairs, Bram heard from his XO in his helmet.
“Sir, still status quo here. Two of the cruisers, however, have made the jump to FTL—destination unknown at this point, Sir.”
Bram said, “Roger,” and he turned on the landing to take the final bank of stairs up to the second floor.
The major had stopped there to look at his PDA, and he said, “To starboard.”
Everyone heard that on their helmet speakers and followed Major Stal as he strode that way, down a long corridor with many doorways—all closed. Ahead, at the end of the hallway, was a set of big, wide-open double doors. As they drew closer, Bram could see guards stood at attention inside those doors.
Bram’s group entered the massive room. There was nothing on the walls but what looked like mirrors that reflected what lay in the room.
Noriega himself sat on what Bram would call a throne. A throne room in the admin building on the landing port? Odd, Bram thought. Noriega remained seated, and he stared at them all with no sense of any kind of submission on his face or in his demeanor either.
On that throne at the top sat a big globe of the planet Noriega. It was lit from within and slowly turning on its axis.
Bram slid through the group of marines that were now fanning out. Must be to spread their firepower, Bram thought. No sooner than he thought that, the marines all spun to point outward and away from the warlord. They were all now pointed at the fifty guards who were in the room with them but still standing at attention. All were armed with some kind of rifles, and yet not a one was ready to take any kind of aggressive action.
Looking at his major, Bram took off his helmet, tucked it under his arm, and was about to speak when the warlord yelled at him.
“You were warned. You knew what the consequences would be if you stayed in Warlord space. And your destroyer paid for your failure to obey me,” he shouted. Noriega was dressed as always with that big display of patches that meant nothing to anyone else, and he leaned forward as he shouted at them.
Bram stepped forward one more step, and as he did, he heard three chimes from the throne room’s AI. The chimes meant nothing to him, but those chimes must have been a signal, as the warlord’s men suddenly broke from their attention poses, and each one took a step back with his right foot only. The rifles came up, and the clicks of safeties being disengaged rung around the room.
“You have one minute to leave the room and return to your ship—a
nd then out of our Warlord space.” The warlord smiled. “One minute,” he shouted once again.
Bram thought he could see the man’s spittle as he lifted himself partially from the throne. What’s that line about power being a corruption … he thought as he smiled at the warlord.
“Warlord Noriega—we are here to arrest you, as you are charged with the crime of an unprovoked attack upon the BN Gibraltar and the murder of more than six hundred crew. You will come with us—now—or we will take you in by force,” he said. It was the most satisfying thing he’d ever said as a new captain, and that made him proud.
“YOU have been warned again. Colonel, shoot this man,” he said.
From behind Bram, one of the Noriega guards strode up to take a spot just to Bram’s left. He raised his rifle, aimed it squarely at Bram’s chest, and fired. The sound was loud in the big room.
The bullet must have hit me—yet I feel nothing, Bram thought. No penetration, no inertia from the mass and speed of the bullet. Nothing.
He smiled at the incredulous look on the colonel’s face and then looked back at the warlord. “You cannot hurt us—any of us—Warlord. So your choice is to either step down off that throne or face the consequences.” He kept smiling as he drew his .454 Casull, pointed it up at the globe above the Warlord’s head, and pulled the trigger. The kick of the revolver was big and it jumped back with recoil.
The bursting of the globe above the warlord’s head when the bullet hit it was bigger. Liquid spilled out and showered all over Noriega, soaking him.
That also appeared to initialize the throne room AI to attack as well, and while no marine was hurt, there were lasers that tried to pierce their armor for a whole minute. Green lancing rays were sent from behind those mirrors on the walls to try to strike the marines, and while each of them was perfectly accurate, none of them worked. After that minute, they stopped, and a speaker somewhere in the room said, “AI response was accurate. Body count zero.”
Bram nodded to the warlord as he gestured to Alver and said, “Take him.”
The warlord jumped to his feet, but Alver was quicker. He wrestled the warlord down to the floor, and two marines put him in handcuffs and dragged him to his feet.
“Colonel, what you’ve just seen is the strength of the RIM Confederacy. We have taken the warlord into custody, and he will go on trial for his crimes. With the charges against him, I would think you’ll never see Noriega again, so with that in mind, I ask that you—and whatever will now pass as the government of this planet—rethink upon your next leader.
“I have been told that if you wish to come to the RIM and speak to our own government for help, that can be accommodated to. We will leave now, go up to the Crimson I, and then back to RIM Confederacy space. But we will be back as Jannah is now a sub-realm member of the RIM Confederacy.
“Good luck, Colonel … you just may need it, Sir,” Bram said as he spun to leave the room to go back up to the Crimson I.
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Bram thanked the Duke for his third time on tonight’s EYES ONLY Ansible call and smiled as the screen went dark.
It appeared that on his first ever mission as a duchy captain, he’d done well.
Well, at least the Duke thought so.
He had, with great help from the Ambassador, gotten the planet Jannah to join the RIM Confederacy under the Caliphate realm.
That was a good thing, Tanner had said.
He had also, with what the Ambassador had called ‘inadvertent diplomacy,’ gotten the Warlord Tunander to consider dealing with the Caliph on some kind of repayment plan—one that admiral Magnusson had already intimated meant joining the Caliphate itself if that could be managed.
Another good thing, the duke had said.
Without it being Bram’s fault, the Gibraltar had been lost, but he had helped get the admiral out of trouble. And that had led to his crippling of the Noriega ship that had destroyed the Gibraltar sending her packing.
Another good thing and that too got him a ducal thanks.
And lastly his assault with the major on the Warlord’s planet and the arrest of Noriega himself. Taken into custody, the man was below in the Crimson I brig waiting to get to the Barony where he would be held till his trial. He heard that the admiral, Vennamo went down every so often, just to look at the man who was still ranting and raving it seemed on the inadmissability of any kind of evidence against him and that he was not subject to their authority to hold him and try him for any crimes. He was a Warlord—he made the laws and had to obey none of them.
The duke had very much enjoyed the story of the throne room incident and again, Bram had gotten thanks.
And lastly, here on Tunander, where the Crimson I had stopped by, he had just had an audience with the Warlord and had let him know that should the Caliphate not offer him what he thought was a good recompense for his losing Jannah, that perhaps other RIM Confederacy realms might do just that…
He nodded to his helmsman to take them home and the duchy sun slowly centered itself in the bridge view-screen…and they jumped to FTL…
Epilogue ~
Tanner watched Gia slide her foot across her thigh and rub at a spot on her instep. He wondered if he should do anything more for her. She had no idea that as he was the duke, he could make allowances in her house arrest details.
He thought he would enlarge her visitors list. There had been two requests already from someone at Gallipedia to have an interview with her for the galaxy database.
He had no real clue if an interview was an idea he wanted to authorize, he thought, and he tucked a foot under his thigh and sat back in the big chair in his private study to watch his sister as she watched a movie in her living room.
Gallipedia visitor and an interview might be a good thing, and then again, depending on what the article said about Gia, it might be a bad one, Tanner thought as he rubbed his temples.
He already knew, as Helena had looked it up and printed it off to stick under his nose just a month ago, that the new Duke d’Avigdor had some interesting history. He tried not to think of it, but he was pleased when he saw there had been mention and emphasis on the fact that he had been found not guilty of any kind of negligence in the death of his sister Nora those long years ago.
He watched as Gia twisted to reach into a bowl of green grapes on the little table at the side of the couch and tossed a couple into her mouth. She always had liked grapes. He remembered when they were growing up on Branton, they used to play with them, and she would throw one that he’d try to catch in his mouth. Brother and sister fun. He laughed as that memory played back.
After watching Gia for a few more minutes, he killed the feed to her apartment.
Getting up, he went to the big doors that opened up onto the balcony on the third floor of the palace and went out to stand against the railing. He looked up and noted that at this time of year, nighttime on Neen meant that the skies were pointed out of the Milky Way galaxy and toward the blackness beyond. He could, if he squinted just right, see peripherally the SagD galaxy and, yes, Andromeda too. But the rest was just deep, deep blackness.
He remembered a professor of astrophysics in a class at the Kinross Navy had spoken about that blackness. According to science, he had stated, the blackness would slowly give way to distant galaxies as time went on. He said that in a billion years, that blackness would be so full of new light from galaxies that it would be hard to even see a dark spot.
Tanner hadn’t known what to think about that. If that was true, then the light was already on its way. Just have to wait for it to get here.. Or the prof was full of it, and the deep, deep blackness would never be lit up.
Either way, it made no sense for him to worry about it. After all, a billion years was a long, long time.
BOOK FOURTEEN OF THE RIM CONFEDERACY
Prison Break
Prologue ~
Helena sat, thinking it still needs something.
Or some things, maybe to make the Aviary a really good place
to sit and meditate—at least for me.
She had ordered many items that so far, had worked she thought, as she sat in the corner of a large divan, her feet tucked up and nestled below her. The divan faced the fine fencing of the large avian space and she’d had it placed about in the middle. Some of the plants that had been in a viewers way, she’d had her aides remove them and one could see now from the divan and the whole rest of the seating group, just about all the space inside.
She noted too, that the birds had adapted to the changes within their space by simply ignoring them.
Birds were like that, she’d read. In fact over the past month, she’d been haunting the Galipedia areas that covered aviary ownership and the handling of birds of all types. She did note that the couple of species in her Aviary, that looked so oddly, were not given any kind of a Galipedia entry—that was something she thought that she would do herself but later.
Once the Aviary was finished, she thought, that would be the right time to do that.
She did wonder though about the species that rolled right past her usually, the ones she’d nick-named the “ball-birds.”
They had the usual feathered body and head and wings even—bright yellow in color but there was a hint or a flavor of green there too. But it was this species feet that was unusual.
Instead of two gripping feet on legs, there was instead a scaled ball that was wider than it was tall. Each of the legs still protruded down from the bird’s body, but at the end of same, they somehow acted like an axle that fit within that ball. As these yellow birds leaned forward, she’d learned from weeks of watching, that changed their center of gravity and that made the ball roll ahead. Or in any direction that the bird leaned. As the center of gravity for the bird changed, the ball rolled ahead or back—she noted that the birds never leaned to one side but always turned in a tight u-turn if they wanted to change their position.
