Broken Glass (Glass Complex Book 1)

by John Hindmarsh

  “In that case, if I help you to meet Commodore Boston, what happens to me?”

  Steg shrugged. “I have no argument with you. You’ve placed me in an awkward situation and I’d like you to assist me to recover from that. How else can you assist?”

  Her response was unexpected. “I know Boston—or at least, I have been introduced to him. I saw him arrive; I could take you to him.”

  “Well,” Steg paused for a moment, “could you arrange for him to meet with me in private? Just him and no one else?”

  “I can try. It means we’ll have to pass through the crowd out there. I suspect he will be in the games wing, playing cards and drinking with his friends. He’s a compulsive gambler.”

  “Come then. Lead the way.” He opened the door and gestured for Lorraine to precede him. He did not hide his surprise when she carefully and pointedly took his arm instead.

  “No, together I think. In case any of those officers are about.” She guided him with gentle pressure as they left the room.

  ******

  Chapter 10

  Steg noted that they were followed as they moved through the crowd, the almost gaudy uniforms of the Imperial Security guards weaving counterpoint to the vast mass of variegated visitors. At last they reached the far side of the reception hall and his companion guided him along a series of hallways, past closed doors and open rooms where small and private gatherings were deep in concealed and unconcealed activities. At last they paused at one of the closed doors.

  “This is the room, I think.” Lorraine turned to the doorman standing unobtrusively in the shadows. “Commodore Boston—is he here tonight?”

  “Yes, Miss.” The doorman was carefully polite.

  “Would you be so kind as to convey a message to him?” The doorman nodded and Lorraine continued. “Please tell him that Lorraine of Jurian is waiting and requests a brief moment of his time, if it is convenient.”

  The doorman turned and entered the room, carefully closing the door behind him. Steg was unable to discern any details of the room or of its occupants.

  “The room has double doors which prevent casual spying and helps keep out unwanted visitors,” explained his companion in response to his unvoiced question. “No, I’ve never been inside the room—I understand some of the guests have established a ’men only’ environment, or at least only senior and privileged male officers and their guests are permitted entry.”

  “That seems unduly protective?”

  “The privacy allows them to conduct their gambling, drinking and storytelling in private.”

  Steg raised his eyebrows. Lorraine did not meet his eyes. She said, “Well, I hear rumors but I ignore those.” They continued their wait in silence.

  The return of the doorman interrupted their solitude. “The commodore said he would join you in a moment, Miss Jurian.” The stern expression on his face relaxed. “His luck has not been very good tonight.”

  The uniformed and bemedaled officer was true to his word. He was overweight and obviously unfit, so much so that Steg could not envisage him on active duty. He ignored Steg and smiled at Lorraine. “Well, Miss Lorraine, how may I assist you this evening?”

  “Commodore Boston. May I present my friend—Stephen Ross?” She made the introductions without elaboration and the two men exchanged polite greetings. The commodore waited patiently, obviously he had nothing urgent to demand his attention elsewhere.

  “Commodore, I would like to have five minutes of your time, in private, if that can be arranged?”

  “I have the time and we can use one of these other meeting rooms. No one will disturb us.” He indicated a doorway.

  Steg turned to his companion as they entered the room. “Lorraine, would you please ensure we are uninterrupted?”

  Lorraine nodded her head, with obvious reluctance. She positioned herself inside the meeting room, and closed the door. Steg and the commodore stepped further into the room, to a small table. The two men stood for a moment, each assessing the other. Commodore Boston broke the silence.

  “Well, young man?”

  Steg withdrew a sheaf of papers from an inside jacket pocket and presented the top strip of paper to the commodore. “Commodore, this top document is a copy of a credit. I have been assured the sum shown was paid into your bank account for value yesterday morning.” He indicated the small console on the table. “You may wish to verify my statement?” The man did not move or speak. Steg knew the sum was equivalent to a year’s pay for the commodore. He continued. “I wish to purchase a commission in the Imperial Fleet—I have the necessary qualifications and I understand you have the authority.”

  Commodore Boston frowned his displeasure. “You could arrange all of this at the Admiralty.”

  “It would take weeks, perhaps months, to cope with the standard process. This is more direct, and more efficient.”

  “You have some urgency?”

  “Only because I have made my decision and wish to act on it, without delay.”

  “And the credit to my account?”

  “I believe I have shown you a straightforward banking transaction, perhaps payment of some gambling wager?”

  “You do realize I could refuse your request and the money would be lost to you?”

  Steg ignored the implied threat and continued to explain his request as he presented documents to the officer. “Sir, I have the necessary qualifications. Here is a validation of my ratings and certifications. My shuttle command experience. Cutter ratings. Astrogation certification. And I wish to expedite my commission. Tonight.”

  “Tonight?” The commodore’s eyebrows climbed high on his forehead.

  “I have all the documentation that is required. You can verify this, now, on that workstation. And you have the authority to act. Why should we delay?”

  “Young man, I am not in the habit of doing business in the evenings, at social events. Now I think you should go out and enjoy the party, and then go home. Take the pretty little lady with you and—”

  “Before you make a hasty decision, Commodore, I should let you have these.” Steg handed over another small sheaf of printed pages. “I must have picked these up by mistake, perhaps when I was arranging the deposit to your account.”

  Commodore Boston reached for the printed material. He read through the details. His face paled. Steg could appreciate the officer’s concerns because the papers contained details of numerous banking transactions with details indicating the commodore was very much in business for himself, to the marked detriment of the Fleet. He had handed over enough evidence to ensure a lifelong term in a Fleet prison for the commodore. He stood by, silently waiting for the commodore to finish reading. The commodore slowly crumpled the pages in a beefy hand.

  “Sir, perhaps tonight you could make an exception?”

  Commodore Boston glared at Steg, an expression known to have wilted many a junior officer. Steg was firm.

  “These papers will disappear, I take it, if I do?”

  “Sir,” Steg shrugged. “They are your documents. You can do with them what you wish.”

  “I see.” Steg doubted that. The officer continued. “Well, on consideration, I may be able to assist you. At least that should get you off this planet.” He reached for the workstation keyboard. “You do not mind if I first check with my bank?”

  Steg shook his head. “No, sir. Of course not.”

  The commodore busied himself at the console and after a moment he sat back. “Well, that is satisfactory. You are a disturbing young man. And I think you either will meet with an early death—oh no, not from me—or else you will have quite a career. Now where are those details?”

  Steg handed across the relevant papers. “My name is Stephen Ross. I wish to obtain a commission with the rank of lieutenant, serving initially as assistant astrogator. And I require immediate duty assignment.”

  “Well, no waiting around. I can see value in that. Let me see.” The officer leafed through the paperwork and then keyed content
industriously at the workstation.

  The commodore closed the door a little too firmly as they exited the room back into the corridor. He glared at Lorraine. “Young lady, you should select your—friends—more carefully in future. And you, sir, I want you offplanet in forty-eight hours. Goodnight.” He strode away without further conversation, heading, Steg surmised, towards the bar for something strong to drink.

  “Wow, you can almost see the steam. What did you do to him?”

  Steg shrugged. “Persuaded him to accept my application—you are looking at the most recently commissioned officer of the Fleet.”

  “Officer? Fleet? You didn’t?”

  “Yes, I did. Lieutenant, assigned, and due to depart tomorrow.”

  “That is suicidal—”

  “I am now a serving officer of the Imperial Fleet, subject to Fleet jurisdiction and discipline, and under Fleet protection. As of now. The Fleet has a well earned reputation for protecting its own.” He ignored the expression of stunned dismay and incredulity on his companion’s face. “I think this calls for a celebration, don’t you?” He took Lorraine’s arm. “How do we find our way back to civilization?”

  Under Lorraine’s guidance, they soon reached the reception hall. No one appeared to take notice of their arrival although Steg was again aware of covert observation. He ignored the bustling and noisy crowd, mainly partygoers enjoying the hospitality of the Empire. He reached out and captured a passing tray of drinks apparently destined for other guests. The floater protested shrilly and he returned the tray minus two glasses.

  Lorraine shook her head in refusal of the proffered glass. “I don’t think I want to—to have a drink with you.”

  “You are well beyond that decision. Your obvious friendship,” he emphasized the word. “And assistance tonight have committed you. So, for both our peace of minds, join me in a quiet celebratory drink, hmm?” For a moment he thought she would refuse.

  “Very well. Although this is not what I would call a celebration. I think the commodore was correct. I should select my—friends—more carefully.”

  “Thank you,” he mocked, hiding his relief. He needed the cover of this young woman’s presence to ensure he would depart unhindered. He sipped his drink.

  “Why have you joined the Fleet?”

  “My lifelong ambition realized. Of course the Fleet is now my life.” He gave the last word a particular emphasis that she detected.

  “You think you’ll be safe?”

  “Safe? What have I, an honest law abiding citizen and officer of the Fleet, to fear?”

  “N—Nothing, I suppose. Although if you are St—”

  “Now, now. I thought we had resolved that confusion.” He changed the subject before she could argue. “If you do not mind, I want to make an early departure from this noisy gathering.” He already was signaling Tziksis. “Can we give you a ride anywhere, or is this your home, too?”

  “Very well. Guests go without formality. And yes, I live in the city. I don’t live here, this building is too much like a museum. I’ll share your ride, thank you.”

  Tziksis was waiting patiently beside the aircar when Steg arrived.

  “Young sir of youth. And beautiful companion. Of waiting and uncertainty this unworthy has surplused.”

  “Come, Tziksis, you have been idling here while I have been working hard.”

  The clatter of furious protests by the little alien was barely interrupted as Lorraine gave instructions to the driver. The return trip to the city was uneventful with very little conversation. At last they reached the address provided by Lorraine and she disembarked quickly. Steg saw her to her door; their farewells were brief and strained.

  For the remainder of their trip Steg briefed Tziksis and restated his offer to have the alien accompany him on the Fleet assignment. “That is, assuming you wish to continue as my servant. The quarters may be cramped, though.”

  “Oh youth, speechless almost am. Your humble servant Tziksis be.”

  “Then consider it done. I did check and while you do not appear on the list of accredited species, the Fleet will not refuse your presence. You cannot enlist but you can come on board as my servant. Now, are you certain you want to come?”

  “Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes!”

  Steg smiled at the excited and enthusiastic alien as he clicked and clattered his emphasis.

  “Very well. If you have any farewells or other arrangements to make, you have about twelve hours.” They exited from the vehicle at the hotel, and Steg dismissed the driver. “Be at the Fleet Base tomorrow by noon at the latest. Give them this note. Report to the duty officer of ss Ziangka and he will arrange your boarding pass. Understand?”

  “Utmost understanding, young master.”

  Steg hid a smile. “Good. I’ll take the weapons pack. Now go and organize your affairs. I’ll see you on board tomorrow.” He watched the little alien depart and then turned and entered the hotel. He was pleased with the results of the meeting and purchase of his commission. As he headed towards the bank of elevators, his thoughts returned to the young woman who had almost placed him in the hands of Imperial Security. One day, he knew with certainty, their paths would cross again.

  The elevator slowed and eased to a gentle stop as it reached his floor. He stepped out and struggled for a moment as the ungainly weapons pack caught in the closing doors. Distracted, he did not notice the men waiting in the corridor nor was he able to defend himself when an unexpected spray of gas filled his lungs. He collapsed, coughing and gasping for air. The exploratory kick in the ribs did not penetrate the blanket of unconsciousness.

  ******

  Chapter 11

  Slowly, so very slowly, Steg became aware of pain hammering viciously at the inside of his skull. His ribs ached. His shoulders felt battered. Eventually he gathered enough energy to move and raised his head. He immediately wished he had not done so as the hammering increased its intensity. He strained to open his eyes, fighting the temptation to collapse back into unconsciousness as the apparent glare of the light overhead seared his eyes and added to his agony. He forced his eyes to focus and gradually was able to see and assess his surroundings. The floor was cold, roughly-hewn stone and he could feel the open grazes on his face from being dragged across the sharp edges and corners left by ill-trained artisans. He raised himself up to a sitting position and waited until the walls stopped spinning. Barely enough light came from the small recessed light fitting overhead for him to see anything clearly.

  He was in a small stone cell. The walls were built of the same material used for the floor. Inset high on one side was a barred window. He did not have the energy to lift himself up to attempt to see outside. A sturdily built metal door was set into the opposite wall, solid and heavy, with a small spy hole placed up high. The cell was unfurnished except for an untidy bale of dirty colored straw that appeared to be a substitute for both bed and table. The entire aspect was dishearteningly bare and bereft of redeeming features.

  Eventually the painful hammering inside his skull faded far enough into the background that he was able to lift himself up off the floor. He tried to look out the barred window but he was unable to reach the sill and could not touch the bars. He moved over to the door, which was well set into the stone and unlikely to yield to any effort he could apply. He gave it an experimental tug and realized the futility of further effort. He tried to peer out the small spy hole but was unable to discern any details.

  He needed to wait for either full daylight or the reappearance of his captors, to see or learn more. For the moment he could only assume he had been captured by Imperial Security, perhaps by the officers who had challenged him earlier. They had followed or traced him to his hotel and, for some venture of their own, had apprehended him. He had been careless, he realized.

  Alternatively the commodore was taking his revenge. No, he re-considered, the commodore also had too much to lose and would expect Steg to have kept a copy of those incriminating papers as protection against s
uch a happening. Besides, the Fleet would not take umbrage at Steg’s method of acquiring his commission; rather it would class the process as within the bounds of acceptable behavior, although questions could be asked about the fee he paid. The Jurian woman, he dismissed, would not have been able to organize such an attack in the short time available. That left the Imps. He paced the small cell, lengthwise, building tension and concern, forcing his mind into constructive thought.

  A closer inspection of the cell failed to produce anything that he could use as a weapon and as yet he could not identify any way of forcing his escape. The door was hinged from the outside and lacked a keyhole on the inside. He checked his pockets and was not surprised to discover they had been emptied. He would need to be alert; escape would depend on opportunities made available through his captors’ carelessness. He decided to preserve his energy, perhaps to sleep, and shaped the bale of straw into a faint resemblance of a pillow. He stretched out, forcing himself to relax.

  Dawn eventually arrived, heralded by the glow of external light. A pale sunlit square formed high on the wall opposite the grilled window, above the door. As the sun rose the square of light began a slow march down the wall. Steg measured its progress with growing impatience. He decided to exercise in an attempt to free his muscles from the cramp and stiffness caused by his cold and uncomfortable bed. The square of sunshine was still well above the door when Steg heard new sounds outside his cell.

  Before he could reach the door it swung open, inwards, on double hinges, hitting the wall with its heavy momentum. Steg assessed the risks. Two young Imperial Security lieutenants, their features familiar, stood in the doorway, each holding a stunner ready for use. Steg hoped the weapons were set on low. Standing behind the two officers was the jailer, a heavy ring of keys hanging from his belt, both a symbolic and practical badge of office. Steg forced himself to relax, to relax without lessening his alertness.

  “You—come on out.” The speaker was nervous and uncertain.

  “Ha—so you wish to free me. Good.” Steg moved rapidly. He quickly placed himself between the two young men so that each was at risk from the other’s stunner. They realized their error, but not before Steg had dealt two powerful blows aimed at each windpipe. The two officers sagged, gagging and gasping for breath. The jailer stepped back, well out of reach, and signaled to his accompanying prison guards. Steg, however, had taken hold of one of the officers and swung the young man’s semi-conscious body up as a shield, at the same time taking control of his stunner. The other weapon was on the floor and he kicked it back into the cell, well out of anyone’s reach. The jailer and his guards froze at Steg’s threatening motion with the stunner.