Once again, Billy Caudwell suspected that the Ganthorans would be turning every available scanner and sensor onto the Alliance Transport to glean any scrap of information or intelligence that they could. With nothing to hide, the Alliance pilots de-activated the Force Shielding that had protected them on the descent through the upper atmosphere. Sitting in silence, as dictated by Diplomatic Protocol; to evade prying audio detections equipment, the Alliance personnel gathered around the circular porthole-like windows to view the City that sprawled out before them. Having circled the City twice, and having gleaned all they were likely to be able to detect, the Ganthorans gave final approach instructions to the pilots.
So, banking to the left from their circling position, the Diplomatic Transport descended slowly and gracefully towards the roof of the largest brown building in the area. Sitting comfortably in the swivelling seat in the centre of the travel compartment, First Admiral William Caudwell took a deep breath and prepared himself for the formalities that were likely to follow.
It was going to be one of those formal official welcomes that Billy despised with a passion; everyone being so artificially nice, with fabricated sincerity, whilst at the same time waiting for the dagger to slide into your back. Soldiering was so much simpler than politics, Billy considered as the Diplomatic transport made its final approach. With amazing skill, the pilot brought the Transport down on the rooftop; landing the rear of the vessel a split-second before the nose. With scarcely a bump, the Diplomatic Transport landed smoothly on the roof of the Imperial Guards’ barracks. Looking out of the circular window next to his seat, Billy Caudwell could see the Reception Committee had already formed. There were robes of all sizes and colours, and more than a few military uniforms on display. It appeared that the great and good of the Ganthoran Government had turned out for this little show. Ambassador Nicx was first to rise from her seat, and stepped up to the side of the vessel next to the Reception Committee. As Ambassador, protocol demanded that she be first to set foot on alien soil and greet her new hosts. Taking his cue, Billy also got up from his seat and stood at Nicx’s right shoulder. Standing behind Billy, the five Diplomatic Aides took their positions, whilst the Landing Troopers stood to the flanks of the main party.
Unlike a great many transport vessels where a small hatch opened in the side of the craft, the Universal Alliance Diplomatic Transport Vessel allowed the entire side of the vessel to open.
The three spherical compartments at the side of the vessel split horizontally as one, and in one slow steady movement, opened up to allow everyone aboard to disembark. The top half of the horizontally split spheres moved upwards into the shell of the Transport, whilst the lower half moved downwards. When fully opened, five stairs deployed from the central sphere, whilst the two flanking spheres deployed shallow ramps.
As the side of the Transport opened, Billy was immediately struck by the hot, dry heat of Ganthus, which was stiflingly uncomfortable. With a quick mental command, the thousands of microscopic machines woven into the fibres of his Personal Environment Suit immediately formed a weak, but effective Force Shield around his body and started generating an entirely more suitable and comfortable environment for the wearer. And, as the side of the Transport deployed, the part of his mind that was Teg Portan quickly assessed the situation. To his left, stood two neat rows of ten silver-grey uniforms with royal blue facings and gold helmets. In their hands, short spindly weapons with two barrels either side of a hand grip. This was the Imperial Guard of Honour, all spick and span and ready for inspection. To the right, stood a gaggle of robed figures; who were most likely Senior Government officials and Civil Servants. Whilst in the centre, five robed figures and two more in uniform seemed to be the important dignitaries for the event.
With the side of the Transport fully opened, Ambassador Nicx stepped carefully down onto the first step of the stairs. She placed her left hand onto the centre of her chest and bowed deeply, as did the robed figures gathered. Billy, as senior military officer, snapped to attention and brought his left hand up in the Alliance salute.
Having bowed and saluted to the new hosts, Ambassador Nicx stepped down from the Transport and approached the Welcoming Committee. Billy followed closely and watched as the Guard of Honour stood stock still, with the exception of the Officer who turned his head to follow their progress. However, it was only as he cleared the shadow of the Transport that Billy noticed the huge cylindrical structures that had emerged from the side of the buildings. As the Transport had landed, the Ganthorans had deployed the heavy anti-aircraft weapons. As part of the traditional game of diplomatic cat and mouse, the Ganthorans were attempting to impress and intimidate. That was just the predictable, one-upmanship nature of politics.
“Grand Adjudicator Bellor,” Ambassador Nicx opened the conversation politely with the five robed figures in front of her.
“Ambassador Nicx, welcome to Ganthus City,” the oldest of the Ganthorans said.
One of the great wonders of the Administrative Centre back on Garmauria was something called ULTra; the Universal Language Translator. ULTra was a thinking computer that stored and processed the language and syntax of every species the Garmaurians had ever come into contact with. Many of the species of the universe, having been genetically manipulated by the Garmaurians, spoke little more than local variants of the Garmaurian language.
“Thank you, Grand Adjudicator. May I present First Admiral Caudwell,” Nicx indicated to Billy.
“Welcome, First Admiral.” Bellor bowed with surprising grace.
“Thank you, Grand Adjudicator.” Billy gave Bellor an equally deep bow.
“May I present my wife, the Lady Gildran,” Bellor indicated the woman in the long purple robe, who bowed gracefully. “Second Adjudicator Tiba and his wife, the Lady Margal,” the shorter and more rotund individual in yellow and black with the woman in pale pink; who also bowed, “and Third Adjudicator Arrad,” the youngest and tallest of the party in the light-blue robes.
“If you would care to accompany us, we have prepared some light refreshments inside after your long journey from the frontier,” Bellor said.
“Thank you Grand Adjudicator,” Nicx responded and allowed herself to be led from the flight deck.
So far, so good, Sarkor Nicx thought to herself.
Chapter 13: La Guardia Airport, New York City.
“New York!” Elizabeth Caudwell said softly to herself, pushing the heavy luggage trolley from the carousel towards the main concourse.
Smiling ironically to herself, she had begun to regret bringing so much with her on the trip. It was only to be for four days, but there was so much to be seen in “The Big Apple”, and she had no idea of what the weather would be like, leaving her to pack for every eventuality. A girl had to be ready for any circumstance when in a foreign country, Elizabeth considered.
Now, Elizabeth Caudwell was beginning to regret those “eventualities” as she struggled with the five suitcases on the trolley with the wonky wheel that kept pulling her to the left. It was one of those uphill battles that Elizabeth Caudwell knew that she could never win, as the trolley simply had a mind of its own. However, if she could just get to the main door and find a cab, then she would consider surrendering. She was also beginning to regret the fashion statement she had chosen to make for her triumphant entry into the United States. The unfashionably high heels skidded and slipped over the polished stone and plastic flooring of the airport terminal, whilst her tight fitting suit jacket and skirt felt like a straight-jacket, hemming and closing her in to the point where she felt she would be unable to breathe. The jacket had already been unbuttoned, and still she felt sticky and cloying with the perspiration generated by the hard work of shoving the uncooperative trolley on a hot and humid New York summer’s day. Now, she understood why everyone that was anyone got out of New York in the summer, like in that Marilyn Monroe film, the name of which she couldn’t remember.
Not that she was going to make a grand entrance into New York
City looking like Marilyn Monroe. Not now. Seating and straining against the rebellious airport trolley, she felt the sweat running down her back; her new silk blouse clinging to her back and shoulders. She could already feel her beautifully styled hair; after a very lengthy and expensive visit to an exclusive London salon, plastering down against her brow and neck. Her eyes were stinging from the salt in her sweat, and she could feel her make-up and heavily applied mascara starting to run. Her feet and legs were aching because of the high heels, and she was petrified to look in a mirror for fear of the dreadful sight that would confront her.
Passing from the dark, dank and humid tunnel of the Arrival gate, she entered the bright, dazzling and busy main concourse. For a brief moment, the fresher air of the concourse gave her a feeling of blessed relief, but only for the tiniest of moments. Her fellow travellers had long since swarmed past her without as much as a second glance.
“Welcome to New York, Elizabeth.” She found a bench to perch herself on just beyond the Arrival Gate.
With a deep sigh, she managed to peel one of the offending high heels from her feet and began to massage the sole. The relief from the pain and constriction of her shoes was just starting to seep slowly into her brain when she thought she heard a voice pierce through her blissful delight.
“No, it couldn’t be...” she reached down to remove her other shoe.
“I said, welcome to New York City, Missus Caudwell. I’m Peter Lindstrom of Millinghouse Publications.”.
Elizabeth Caudwell looked upwards, and for a few moments, was taken aback by the vision that presented itself to her. Her first thought was that a younger version of her husband had been sent by some guardian angel to rescue her, and the thought made her quite breathless and dizzy.
He was a tall man, mid-thirties; just over six feet tall with flawless, unblemished fair skin, and the fashionably close-cropped blond hair of a college student. His eyes were a piercing blue grey, not unlike John Caudwell’s, but his smile of perfectly aligned white teeth was warm, genuine and inviting. She did manage to notice in those moments of astonishment that he had the broad-shouldered physique and slim waist of an athlete, which was complimented by his dark navy gold-buttoned blazer, crisp white shirt, and club-striped tie. His pale grey slacks; accentuated by the gold belt buckle at his waist, was completed by the highly-polished black leather shoes.
After the initial shock of this vision appearing, Elizabeth was sure she mumbled something, but was not sure whether it was coherent to anyone who spoke English. The vision, however, seemed to understand what she meant.
“It looks like we had best get you to your hotel, Missus Caudwell.” The vision helped Elizabeth get to her feet.
Unfortunately, compounded with the shock and her aching leg pains, the effort of rising from her seat caused Elizabeth to stumble, and the frail and fragile heel of the ridiculously high-heeled shoes snapped. Elizabeth, finding herself being pitched forwards, was suddenly halted in her progress to the hard concrete floor, blocked by what she thought was a brick wall. The brick wall, however, had strong, gentle arms that helped her regain her balance.
“Be careful there, ma’am. Mister Harper, the lady’s luggage to the car, if you please.” The vision spoke with the calm, confident, assurance of someone who was used to being obeyed.
“Yes, Mister Lindstrom.” The tall, thick-set burly man in a black chauffeurs uniform, whom Elizabeth had not noticed up until that moment, had a very faint Irish-American accent.
To Elizabeth Caudwell’s mild annoyance, the chauffeur began to push the trolley with his massively powerful left hand. The trolley, being pushed with such brute force, squealed and squeaked a protest from its damaged left front wheel for a few seconds, before the offending wheel was torn free from the blockage that had impeded Elizabeth, and began to run straight and true.
“And, I suspect you won’t be needing those anymore.” Lindstrom took the right shoe from her hand and scooped the damaged left shoe clean from her foot, before shoving them both into the waste-bin beside the airport bench.
Part of her was glad to be relieved of the high-heeled torture that pinched her feet and made it difficult for her to walk. Part of her was horrified that such expensive shoes would fall apart so easily, plus, not to mention how John would be outraged at the expenditure. Yet, part of her said nothing because she was in awe of this blond haired knight in shining armour, who was the kind of “take charge” sort of man that she was not accustomed to arguing with.
“I’ll have one of our Fashion Associates replace them for you with something more comfortable for New York City at the hotel.” He flashed that dazzling smile at her once again.
Feeling slightly weak at the knees, and in awe of this blond haired vision, Elizabeth uttered the first coherent words that she could remember from her American trip.
“Thank you for your kindness, mister…?”
“Lindstrom, Peter Lindstrom, Vice-President Millinghouse Publications,” he said.
“Oh, Mister Lindstrom, from the publishers, I do apologise... it appears to be very hot and stifling in here.” Elizabeth smiled sheepishly, trying to explain her predicament, and felt her face flush, like she was an adolescent schoolgirl in front of the object of her first real crush.
What on Earth do you think you’re doing, Elizabeth, she chastised herself, you’ve been here five minutes, and already you’re flirting with the first man to speak to you? Swooning like some stupid schoolgirl in front of the first handsome man you set eyes on? For goodness sakes, Elizabeth, show a bit of decorum, she chided herself.
“No need to worry, Missus Caudwell,” her saviour replied politely, “New York is particularly oppressive at this time of year for those not acclimatised to her.”
“Have you been to Britain, Mister Lindstrom?” she asked.
“Well, yes, I completed a postgraduate study at Magdelen College in Oxford almost ten years ago now.” Lindstrom impressed Elizabeth further by pronouncing the college name correctly as Maud-lin. “Now, if you’re feeling better, we had best get you to the hotel.”
“Of course.” Elizabeth smiled and instinctively reached her hand into the crook of Lindstrom’s arm.
Lindstrom, showing no sign of protest or disagreement, led Elizabeth Caudwell through the main concourse of New York airport. Elizabeth Caudwell walked in barefoot silence next to her handsome rescuer, feeling slightly stupid and light-headed. Elizabeth had no real idea what to say to the tall, good looking American as she walked in barefoot silence beside her rescuer. It had been many years since Elizabeth Caudwell had been tongue-tied, and it was a feeling she enjoyed whilst at the same time guilt nagged at her.
As they walked through the airport, Elizabeth noticed that not only that Mister Lindstrom had a powerful muscular left arm, but, that she also felt astonishingly safe with this man.
The walk from the Arrival Gate to the main entrance seemed to pass in the blink of an eye to Elizabeth Caudwell, as she wracked her brain to say something to this man that wouldn’t appear like she was flirting outrageously. Instead, she said nothing, and allowed him to lead her through the milling crowds of travellers in that awkward and nervous silence that she had only ever experienced before on a first date with someone she really found attractive. Pull yourself together, Elizabeth, she scolded herself, and found her hand squeezing Lindstrom’s muscular arm just a little bit too tightly for decency’s sake, as she pulled herself closer to him.
Once again, Lindstrom made no protest as he sailed majestically, powerfully and serenely like an unstoppable ocean-going Liner through the main concourse of the airport, leading her directly to the main door. Feeling slightly intoxicated and dizzy, Elizabeth hung on to his arm as they passed through the main door of New York airport out into the heavy, humid and oppressively noisy air of the city itself.
For a moment, the great barrage of sound and energy hit Elizabeth Caudwell like a huge tidal wave, and, for a moment, frightened and excited her both at the same time. The sun was
shining brightly in the cloudless blue sky, marred only by the pollution haze from the city. It was just as Elizabeth Caudwell had imagined, except dirtier, smellier and noisier. She didn’t care. She had always dreamed of visiting New York City, and now she was here. She was going to achieve many more of her dreams before her days of wandering were over.
As she stepped out of the airport, Mister Harper was already loading the last of her cases in to the rear of a long black Limousine. With one deft movement, Lindstrom opened the rear passenger door for her.
“There we go, Missus Caudwell, safely to the car.” He flashed that beautiful, dazzling smile that made Elizabeth’s heart skip a beat.
“Thank you.” She grinned breathlessly, hoping that her knees would hold up, and slid onto the comfortably upholstered, black leather, rear seat of the enormous vehicle.
Like closing a door on the rest of the world, Elizabeth Caudwell felt the cooler air of the vehicle wash over her like a refreshing shower. The air conditioned limousine was indeed a blessed relief, and for the first time since she had arrived in New York, Elizabeth Caudwell began to feel almost human again. Shuffling along the seat to allow Lindstrom to sit next to her, she could smell the leather of the upholstery, the faint smell of gasoline and, horrifyingly, her own body odour. The effort and sweating of pushing that trolley had overwhelmed her deodorant and expensive perfume. Feeling slightly self-conscious, Elizabeth rolled down the window in the hope that the fresh air would mask her odour.
Lindstrom pushed onto the seat and slammed the door behind him, and in that instant, Elizabeth caught the aroma of his after shave. It was a clean, masculine smell that assaulted her senses and brought that familiar, queasy sensation in the pit of her stomach that she tried to ignore.
Time Commander (The First Admiral Series) Page 13