Her concern touched him in a way that made his heart crack. He’d never had a close friend, and even if things didn’t work out between them, he didn’t want to lose that connection.
“I’m not sure. He’s so damned erratic these days. Did you see the end?”
She went back to reading. “What am I supposed to see?”
It probably wasn’t something that would stand out to her as unusual. He tapped the bottom of the screen. “His signature. He signed it, ‘Love, Dad’.”
Sparrow’s head and shoulders jerked in surprise. “Yea? So?”
Taking in a massive inhalation, he gave her a halfhearted smile. “Well, it’s not like I’ve gotten tons of written messages from him over the years, but I can’t remember him ever using that word.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Her words came out weak and almost silent. Mournful.
There was pity in her eyes. Sorrowful and compassionate. Both of them froze under the spell of the moment. It broke when she took up his hand and kissed his palm.
Jason straightened his back and lifted his chin. He had government business to attend to. Personal issues would need to wait. “Would you like to stay here on Alexandria? I could bequeath the job to you?”
“Hell, no.” Her face scrunched up. “I can’t think of a worse fate.”
“I suppose Ambassador Tully will have to do for now. You ready to get this over with?”
She shrugged. “Why do you want me at the ceremony? I’m a nobody.”
If Jason had his way, she’d be on his arm for a long time. “Eye candy,” he said with a smirk. “Someone needs to play the role. Besides, I could use a steady hand while I’m up there.”
“Eye candy,” she muttered. “You’re also a sexist pig.”
“Well, then call it moral support.” His grip on her arm increased.
Captain Stiles knocked on the edge of the door with Ambassador Tully peeking over his shoulder. “Are you ready, Sir?”
Jason nodded. “We’re ready.” Looping his arm through Sparrow’s, he gripped her tightly against his body, and they left the office.
Guards quickly stepped into place around them, led by Charlie with his rapidly advanced promotion to lieutenant. Jason could argue the point with his father later. It wasn’t likely to be the largest issue between them.
Ambassador Tully leaned in. “This is certainly unusual. Historic, in fact. I’m not sure what the next step should be, my Prince.”
Jason tried to keep his expression neutral, but he wasn’t doing it well. A smile broke through. “Just keep winging it from one crisis to the next. That’s all I’ve been doing.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Captain Stiles, in all the excitement, I forgot to ask about Wingate and Carson. What happened to them?”
“I’m afraid Wingate was on stage during the riot, sir. She was killed during the melee.”
“Ahh. Shame. We could’ve used her information. And Carson?”
“Locked up, sir.”
“Seems like a fair turnabout. Perhaps Dr. Wilkes can extract some labor out of him when we get home. What about Ferguson?”
Stiles pressed his lips into a line. He came to a halt, and the entire group settled into place for a moment. When he spoke, it came out sounding less than cordial “I don’t approve of your solution, sir.”
Bill had indulged himself during the fight and slaughtered anyone who came near him in the square. Even though he killed several Serigala soldiers, some of the Alexandria police reported seeing him kill civilians in the confusion. They were still looking for him, but Jason owed the man a debt.
The guards tensed at the Captain’s tone and even Sparrow seemed to shift under Jason’s arm. Maybe he needed to warn Stiles to go back to treating him like a prince while in public. He kept his voice low but firm, without showing a hint of emotion. “Nevertheless, report, please.”
Stiles noticed the tension. “Apologies, my Prince. Your mercenary picked up half his bounty this morning, and he’s already left the planet to find Ferguson. If he succeeds, he’ll bring proof to you back on Rhime, sir.”
“Very good.” He pressed the group back into movement. In truth, he wasn’t crazy about turning Bill loose to assassinate Ferguson, but it’d been painfully explained to him by Admiral Hackett that it would look less than stellar if word got back home that Ferguson got away unpunished. For now, he was rid of both men. If Bill showed up in a few months, he could deal with him then.
After leaving the embassy, the entourage made their way to the stage set up in front of the capitol building. The grounds in front of the five-story building had a facsimile of a lawn — a few acres covered in a moss-tinted pavement interspersed with perfunctory live greenery which only made the attempt at liveliness seem tepid. Instead of giving the area an outdoorsy feel, it only reminded him of the dome pressing down overhead, accentuating the claustrophobic tenor of the day.
In the center of the square was the same stage where the President died the previous day in a bloodbath which would go down in this planet’s history as a day of remembrance. Much like Jason’s and his father’s birthdays back home, it would end up as a holiday in a few years for people to take off work and perhaps feast together after a few meaningless platitudes.
Signs of quickly thrown together repairs dotted the stage. A patchwork of freshly applied paint to cover the stains of death was still tacky from the newness. The center held a table with a fresh cloth over it probably hiding more damage since it dragged on the stage floor in little bunches. The two groupings of chairs on either side were mismatched. He could only shake his head at the sight.
Jason promised himself that he’d learn about the man who stood up against tyranny and sacrificed his life to save his planet. Erect a memorial on the site.
Something had to be done to make this planet feel more like a home for the inhabitants. The place oozed flashy lights and cheap facade in the tourist zones, and from what he’d seen of the rest, austere would be a compliment.
The Alexandria flag whipped around on a flagpole behind the stage, making him wonder how they created the illusion of wind inside the dome. There had to be a fan hidden within the flagpole.
On the left side of the stage, six Rhime soldiers stood at attention and saluted Jason as he approached. Admiral Hackett, who led his father’s forces here, was a broad-shouldered man — firm and fit for someone with such a long career that probably included a lot of time sitting in meetings. Jason spent the previous evening in a long discussion with the Admiral. As one of the Emperor’s top people, Hackett had been comfortable around Jason and pulled no punches in dressing him down for some of his actions during the past few weeks — all in the name of his father, of course.
Jason returned their salute with something more than his usual casual wave but not by much.
On the right side of the stage, Minister Brownstone glittered in her toga. The rich red fabric matched the shade on the accent portions of the Rhime dress uniforms perfectly. She stood alongside eight other newly appointed officials. A couple of them, including Brownstone, grinned as he stepped up to the center. Most kept their expressions neutral while one openly frowned at the event.
Jason didn’t care. It was their own stupid fault for having a government which couldn’t defend itself and protect its people.
Brownstone was the one to take up the lead of the government. She contacted him yesterday, making the offer. The entire planet was surrendering to him. A new Rhime colony. And why not, it was the Shabin way. Offer protection and take all you can get in return. The funny thing was, they weren’t surrendering to the Rhime forces or his father; they were offering it to him through a deeply discounted sale of fifty-one percent of planetary stockholder shares.
Jason whispered to Sparrow. “I feel like an idiot. This has to be the dumbest way to conquer a planet.”
Sparrow whispered back. “You’ve got to be the luckiest idiot who ever lived.”
Ambassador Tully spoke through her teeth just a
s quietly. “Keep smiling, sir. It was their idea.”
Brownstone signed. Jason signed. They turned, and a particularly officious woman held up the document to the crowd. There were no cheers but at least there weren’t any rocks thrown either, only polite applause from his new subjects while being surrounded by several thousand Rhime sailors. He wondered how long it would take before anyone noticed they essentially agreed to be protected by a force of cargo escort guards, not a planetary defense legion.
The Rhime anthem played as a squad — or maybe it was a company, Jason needed to learn those things. Either way, a bunch of soldiers marched around in formation and then onto the stage. They saluted, turned a few times in some meaningful pattern, then lowered the Alexandria flag and replaced it with the Rhime one. More salutes and fancy folding came next, and then one of the men offered the Alexandria flag to Jason.
Jason promptly took the proffered flag, bent it an additional time, and tucked it under his arm.
The Ambassador turned stiffly and glared at him. Still quiet and speaking through a toothy smile, she said, “Treat it with a little more respect than that, please, sir.”
“Oh, sorry.” Jason pulled it back out and wiped out the creases. How was anyone supposed to respect a flag which included a casino chip amongst its symbols?
After the music and more elaborate marching around, Jason gave a quick speech. His first public address as a leader instead of a PR pawn for his father. It sucked, but at least he could blame the writer.
Afterward, Alexandria did what they did best. They threw a party. The population might not be ecstatic with their new status, but that didn’t stop them from an evening of drunken depravity.
With the public ceremony over, Jason and Sparrow waited inside the former President’s office for one last duty. Jason kept his hands behind his back and stood at stiff attention. When a sailor opened the door, he led in Jason’s last appointment.
The girl walked into the crowded room cautiously with her hand gripped tightly to her father’s. Her pale blue dress with frills was certain to have Sparrow’s approval. White stockings on her feet. Shiny black shoes. Her wide-eyed expression at the assorted officials standing around the room had her complete attention.
Sparrow whispered to him. “You have another thrall trapped in your glamor.”
He shushed her then spoke to the room at large, trying his best to make everything sound properly grand. “You must be Geeza. You may approach.”
The little girl took a slight step back, hiding behind her father’s leg.
Sparrow whispered again. “Nice touch with the kids, idiot.”
Jason threw her a scowl and bent down on one knee. He tried to sound a bit less pompous this time and put on his cheesy grin. “It’s okay, Geeza. I’m Jason. Your mother told me about you.”
Her father gestured to Jason and led her forward.
“I have something for you.” Jason snapped his fingers a few times at the man next to him. The guard handed him a shiny silver case. Jason opened it and dramatically displayed the contents. “It’s the Rhime Medal of Valor. I was told that you’ve been very brave, helping your father while your mommy is still in the hospital.”
She kept herself slightly behind her father, but her head poked out to get a look at the gleaming golden medallion with the Shabin crest emblazoned on it. Truthfully, the medal was Shimizu’s, but she asked him to give it to her daughter.
“Say, thank you, Geeza.” Her father spoke for the first time and encouraged her closer.
“Thank you,” a hesitant and soft voice chirped out.
Sparrow crouched down next to Jason. “Would you like me to pin it on you?”
“A fabulous idea.” Jason playfully nudged Sparrow. “You’ll make an excellent mother.”
Her expression grew a little dark as she glared at him out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t get any ideas,” she murmured back.
The father came into the huddled bunch and kept his hands on Geeza’s shoulders while Sparrow pinned on the medal.
Jason said, “Your mother was injured defending me. The empire owes a debt to your family. You may call on that debt at will.” He glanced at the father who returned an acknowledging nod which ended with a bowed head.
Something broke in the girl. She lunged forward and pulled him into a hug. He’d never held a child, and the experience befuddled him. He caressed her back and whispered into her ear, “Your mommy will be out of the hospital in a couple of days. Stay brave.”
She squeezed harder and then broke away, shoving a thumb in her mouth as she returned to her father.
Jason stood and pulled Sparrow up, keeping their hands clasped together. “Well, now that we’ve taken care of that, how about we join the festivities.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Before leaving the planet, he appointed Ambassador Tully as his proxy. In the next few months, she was in for a long slog through the Alexandria laws to make them less lenient. Not too much. The planet needed to provide taxes to pay for their shiny new armada and decadent tourism was the lifeblood of this world.
Admiral Hackett wasn’t happy with Jason insisting on getting his ride home onboard Sparrow’s ship and went so far as to argue with Jason. His flagship was more appropriate and certainly safer than the ancient vessel. Jason wouldn’t hear of it, so her cargo bays were emptied out and refitted. Two bays held half the Herodians still safely growing inside their incubation chambers. The other half was split between a couple other ships so an accident wouldn’t threaten losing all the precious cargo. Sailors quickly rearranged and decorated another bay as a suite for Jason. One more they converted into barracks for Lieutenant Stringer and a few other sailors turned bodyguards.
“Sir?” Charlie rattled the cargo cage turned bedroom as a way of knocking. “I have a small problem.”
Jason stopped his fussing and wheeled, offering a smile. “Lieutenant, how do I look?”
“Overdressed, sir.” He bit down on his lip. The Sparrow lip bite infection had claimed another victim. If she ended up as Empress, the entire population would catch it. “Sorry, sir. You look great.”
Jason ran a hand down his suit. “You think it’s too much?”
“Too much for what, sir?”
“Dinner with Sparrow.” He caught himself grinning at Charlie while thinking of her. “A date.”
“Yes, sir. It looks good on you. Did you need me to assign someone to cook?”
“Not at all. I’ll be cooking.”
“Hmm.” Charlie ran his eyes up and down his prince. “Perhaps a little overdressed if you’ll be cooking.” The Lieutenant was picturing splattered food and grease stains. Perhaps a few puffs of flour across his chest and face.
“Oh. Right. See if you can dig up something to act as an apron.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You have a problem you need help with?”
Charlie drew himself to attention. “Status report, sir. A couple of the men were doing a sweep of the ship. That Sparky guy wouldn’t let them in the engine room.”
Sparky and Tina were not handling the extra people well. They were solitary creatures, or perhaps binary in this case. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Sparky feels as if his ship were under an invasion.” If the man could’ve gotten away with peeing in every corner to mark his territory, he would.
“Yes, sir.” Charlie massaged his own neck. “It’s just that I’m responsible for your safety. I’m new to all of this. Don’t want to screw it up, sir.”
“Pressure of command getting to you?” Join the club, lieutenant, join the club. “I’ll speak to Sparky if it’ll make you feel any better. You can always do it while the man is asleep.”
“Thank you, sir.” He dropped his gaze to the deck for a moment. His hands clenched into fists, and his Adam’s apple bobbed with tension. “There’s something else, sir.”
So far, the trip home had seemed pleasant to Jason. As much as any long voyage cramped in a box could be. He couldn’t ima
gine what had gotten Charlie into such a state. He put an arm on the man’s shoulder. “Whatever it is, you can talk to me.”
Charlie nodded to himself. “Yes, sir.” He stiffened his back. “I just wanted you to know that there are those of us who would support you, sir.”
Jason could only stare for a moment — heart racing at the implication. His tongue clicked against the roof of a mouth suddenly gone dry. “You mean, support me at home, right?”
“Yes, sir.” It came out in a nervous whisper.
The words balanced the line of treason, both of them circled the conversation without mentioning rebellion. Neither wanted to be the first to admit defying the Emperor. He had the brief urge to end this conversation and interrogate Charlie from inside the Mirre. This was a dangerous topic, but he couldn’t believe it was a setup. Charlie made an unlikely candidate for that type of plan.
“Have you spoken openly to other people about this?”
Charlie nodded and spoke carefully — the words came out cracked and tremulous. “Several guards in the palace are looking for the right opportunity to get you on the throne, my Prince.” With unexpected speed, he pulled his weapon out of the holster and offered the gun to Jason, going down on one knee as he moved. “Kill me if you must, sir.”
Jason flinched and took a step back. His stomach writhed as his pulse sped even faster. “I… I…” This couldn’t be happening. He wasn’t ready to be Emperor of both planets. He closed his eyes and firmly grabbed his anxiety, throttling it down into nothingness. “Stand.” He gulped and spoke with resolute intensity. “Charlie, stand. I’m not killing you. God, I don’t want to kill anyone.”
Relief washed over the man, and he got to his feet — the handle of his weapon still held out in supplication.
“Put that away,” Jason ordered. The idea of overthrowing his father was tempting but could easily turn into a disaster. He’d been doing too many things lately without thinking them through. Martin taught him better than that. The consequences of a revolt would cost more lives than he could tolerate if it failed. Hell, even if it succeeded any lives lost would sicken him. Jason chewed a nail, considering possibilities. “How much help do I have?”
Shabin- The Reluctant Prince of Rhime Page 23