Ruined Memories (THE RIM CONFEDERACY Book 7)

by Jim Rudnick

  #####

  On the Atlas bridge, the XO was busy with something so Tanner instead turned to his Science officer, Lieutenant Commander Sheldon.

  "Science, I need some re-con, please—what can you tell me of a planet called Memories, just off the southern edge of the RIM?"

  After much back and forth between the Lady St. August on the Sterling down on KappaD and these refugees, what had come to light was that the place they were running from was a planet called Memories in the thick nebula there.

  Sheldon grinned, said, "Aye, Sir," and keyed in something to his console. Moments later a soft chime came from his monitor.

  "Sir, Gallipedia says the following. That the nebula—unnamed, I might add, is one with very heavy particulate matter. Dust, yes, chemicals and colors, yes, but more than that—this one has been classified as a planetary nebula, and it is of a medium size, it says. But like many nebula, it has slowly encroached on systems that lie in its path as it moves along. The system with Memories as a planet in its Goldilocks zone was eaten up according to some estimates just a few short million years ago. The sun itself burned off the lobes of the nebula that came its way. Memories, however, was hidden by the giant areas that still moved on through that system, and it had been lost for centuries, Gallipedia says.

  He stopped reading and looked at Tanner. "Sir, Memories is, well, lost, Sir. No one's been there in more'n a thousand years. So I doubt the veracity of the claim by these refugees, Sir," he said. Everyone could tell that the Science officer put no faith in the story at all.

  Tanner nodded slowly and then turned to the helm. "Helm, can you put the Gallipedia images up on the view-screen, please?"

  Lieutenant Cooper pushed some buttons on his console, and the stars that had been on screen were suddenly replaced with huge swirling lobes of the magenta, green, and blue nebula. They could see it was lit from within as it glowed in some parts and not in others. Some parts were thick—you couldn't see through them at all—and yet others were so transparent the stars behind the nebula could easily be seen.

  On the sidebar, Tanner read that the average length of the nebula was almost five lights long and at least the same width. Deep space scans noted that there were two suns within same—one they knew was the Memories system sun. But the sidebar also noted the Atlas could not scan for the location of it or the other sun. Too much particulate matter was the asterisked note, and that too was an issue.

  Particulate matter was just that. Particles. Particles that were small, it was true, but ones that if hit at the speed of light even, never mind at TachyonDrive speeds that were three times faster on the Atlas, could damage the ship. Perhaps. Maybe. It would depend on the particle size, what was hit, and at what vector. Hence, the rule that in nebula cruising, one went slow.

  Tanner looked back at his Science officer.

  "Can you superimpose the last confirmed known location of the Memories system over top of that?"

  Sheldon nodded and after a few keystrokes, a single star shone on the screen, partly hidden by a big magenta lobe of gas.

  "Time stamp on that?" he asked.

  "That's," Sheldon said as he looked back at his console, "six hundred years ago, Sir. Not so accurate anymore."

  Tanner nodded, as that was the truth for sure.

  Six hundred years could mean huge changes in something as volatile as a nebula and its movements, and while it had no mass—or very little—it would only marginally affect a system as it moved over it. But marginally, Tanner knew, could mean a light year of distance from where that system had been six centuries ago.

  The XO chimed in. "Sir, this is only hearsay, Sir. We really don't know if these refugees even were in the nebula, never mind on Memories. And as you can see, we've no idea where it is even."

  Tanner turned to Bram who'd sat listening to the whole conversation. "Bram, can I ask—could you Ansible later to Gillian, the Sterling Adept officer? I'd like to know what she thought of these refugees and the veracity of their claims. We'll be there in four more days, so no rush," he added.

  Bram nodded and made a note on his wrist PDA.

  Good, Tanner thought. Let's find out as much as we can about this claim of refuge to make this a short little side trip. Then back to Neres for some shore leave. Tanner smiled widely.

  #####

  The Atlas once again re-sent down via Ansible that yes, they needed four landing pads in a row as the Atlas did not come down on her tail but on her side. Being eighteen hundred feet long was big—and the landing department here on KappaD usually did not see large ships. A smaller planet yet still a full member in the RIM Confederacy, KappaD was known for one major thing—the planet was the home of the Tanalorg, the largest predator on the RIM. Everyone knew of the huge beast—it was the one that parents used to scare their kids or school-yard bullies mimicked to cause their victims as much discomfort as possible. The beast was huge, had four big arms that ended in paws with long talons, long blue fur, and feet that were almost two feet long. They could run at forty miles an hour, climb trees, and dig down into burrows on the ground too. No animal on KappaD was safe, which was why the planet used force fields everywhere to protect their farms and livestock. KappaD, was the final stop for every hunter who wanted a unique trophy and would try to add a Tanalorg head to his wall. Many came. Some died. Some went home without trophies. But some did not.

  Tanner smiled. He'd had it with hunting just a few years back when, at the Duke d’Avigdor's insistence, he'd joined the duke’s hunting party to Anulet, and they had been attacked by the Jael, a giant bear-like creature. Tanner remembered that while the duke had killed the one that had gored and savaged Tanner, he had shot the Jael's mate right over the duke's shoulder before it had reached them. Cost me days in the robo-doc and then that huge ceremony. Saving a life is always a good thing—make it the life of a Royal, and the friendship was there still. Jaels were about ten feet tall—yet the Tanalorg was twice that height and more than a ton in weight.

  That's a lot of animal coming at you at forty—and he could understand how some could choke or freeze up and die.

  “Not me. My hunting days are over,” he said to himself and nodded.

  At the helm, Lieutenant Cooper said something into his throat mic and then half-turned to his captain.

  "Sir, they're going to re-align someone else, and we can set down in like ten minutes—is that acceptable, Sir?"

  He grinned at his lieutenant and said jauntily, "And what if I said not a chance, we're on our way in?" Tanner smiled at the crew in general.

  "Uh ... Sir, then that'd mean that we'd put down right on top of the Sterling, Sir," Cooper said quietly.

  Tanner nodded. Nothing more to say as the Sterling was the Barony ship the Lady St. August always used for her own yacht.

  Instead, he busied himself on his captain’s console, reading a report, asking for more information from the chief warrant officer in this case, and then going on to the next one and the next one and the next.

  He sat back and reminded himself that the captain of a ship was more about reports that battles.

  As the Atlas moved down, the blues of the oceans on KappaD went by slowly. White clouds looked like bubbles in a glass of soda water, all floating and alone but in groups too. Continents could be seen as well, and the green of foliage and the browns of desert lands were lit by the sun and brightly colored, solarized almost.

  Below, in the capital city of Capuli, on the inland edge of the city, the view-screen held the landing port for the city. As the Atlas dropped down—rather, as it glided down—the huge tarmac grew and grew. There were other ships there, though seeing them this way made any kind of identification difficult, Tanner thought.

  "Sterling there on the left-hand side, right, Helm?" he asked.

  Cooper nodded. "Sir, yes, Sir, that's her new spot—we're going on the far right-hand side against the whole edge. Big we are, but there's always a spot for us," he said as he guided the Atlas down.

  Tanner ha
lf-turned to his XO. "XO," he said, "which of the ships down there did the refugees come in?"

  The XO looked at his console and monitor and then smiled. "Sir, they're not even down—being held up in orbit—low orbit, I see," he said, and with a couple of button clicks, the view-screen split in half and a ship appeared on the screen.

  Tanner's first thought was that this was an unknown when it came to the design and look. That was part of any ship, but the important part was did it work for what you needed it to do?

  This, he'd heard, was a merchant marine style tramp freighter. That meant it could look like anything but a freighter and needed several cargo holds with sufficient space for cargo. And this ship had that.

  At eight hundred feet long, she looked like a hundred welders had had a bad day. It had been sleek with fitted panels and ports at one time, but now it was a patchwork quilt of odd-colored alloys and metals. A large part of the style was the shape, which was either bullet shaped or egg shaped with a big rear end. It had rounded corners all over, almost no arrays at all, and giant cargo doors, one of which Tanner could see was open with the blue force field holding back the ship's atmosphere.

  As a Navy man, Tanner looked for weapons, and he found only telltale signs of one. Up top on the ship was the barrel of an energy pulse cannon, and judging by its size, this ship could throw a wicked first strike. He took a quick assessment as the camera angle moved around the ship—no plasma weapons, no lasers—at least that he could see. They could be hidden, but then why do that—the Scavenger already looked so very under-whelming. Or, he grinned, maybe that was the facade they wanted to show. One weapon, honest ... and then a foe found out differently. He'd have to check on that too.

  He smiled, turned back to the captain’s console, and noted he had an incoming message on his wrist PDA from the Sterling. Before he answered it, he checked with Cooper and got the ETA of only twenty more minutes until the Atlas touched down.

  “And now,” he said to himself, “the Lady St. August.”

  He clicked the REPLY button, got someone down below on the Sterling, and then above his wrist a hologram of the lady appeared.

  She looked busy—well, in fact, she looked sweaty as she was in the gym, he figured, and on some kind of a rowing machine. And she was out of breath too.

  "Captain, welcome to ... KappaD ... ugh ... so glad to ... have you here ..." she grunted out.

  He smiled and nodded. "Lady St. August, I didn't mean to interrupt your workout—my apologies, I can call back in a while," he said as he tried not to look at her breasts and the way the sweat was running down into her cleavage. She was a beauty, and he continued to stare only into her eyes. For a fleeting moment, he thought that her eyes were very pretty but blue, and not violet, but he let that go immediately.

  "Nonsense, Captain Scott. Dinner tonight on the Sterling at nineteen hundred hours, please dress casually. And we're trying a whole new recipe too," she said and nodded as she signed off.

  Dinner. Like last time. He felt good.

  Two hours later, he was sitting once again on deck nineteen, in that same re-purposed conference room that doubled as the lady's kitchen. They had opened a bottle of wine that seemed to drink itself and they'd needed another one.

  The dinner was something he'd never tried before—something called Wildebeest Wellington, which was a healthy loin steak wrapped in Garnuthian side bacon with a layer of some kind of a pâté that had a liverish taste—all wrapped in a puff pastry envelope and then slow baked until the loin was medium rare. How she could tell that by simply inserting a chef's fork and then touching it to her bottom lip was beyond him. But she checked three times, and the third time, she said, "It's done!"

  They had eaten slowly. He told tales of Enki and how the citizens were so focused on the Muse that they joined. Nothing else counted, nothing else mattered. He explained some didn't care much about their Muse—they were the leaders of the cults. He told her that others who had no real Muse skills ended up as either a clerk in Resources or a soldier in the Militia. That's the real power, he said to her, behind the throne. The whole thing was skewed toward the loyalty to one's Muse—or not. He was more than honest, and he explained what he and Bram had worked on—and that the ambassador was certainly a factor to consider in the future.

  He made comments about some of the beautiful art he had seen and how Enki would be a welcome addition to the RIM.

  She nodded then and said happily, "And if our Barony records are correct, today is your fortieth birthday too. I asked your Adept officer, Sander, to find out which piece of that art you so loved on Enki and for him to get it for me—which he did nicely. And here it is," she added as she quickly stood up and went to the far counter and brought him a sleekly wrapped small thin present.

  Tanner was very surprised. He didn't know what to say and reluctantly took the present. At her urging, he unwrapped the small canvas. It was of an abstract type that he remembered from his very first tour of the Fine Arts Muse pyramid, done by one of their younglings, as he remembered, and yet the raw vibrant colors leapt out at him still. He smiled and looked at the lady.

  "Ma’am—Helena, I love this art! How you arranged that with all the other goings-on on Enki is beyond me, Ma’am," he said and smiled at her one more time. As he put the painting down on its edge at the side of the table, he couldn't stop smiling.

  "And yes, it is my official birthday—today I am forty! How nice to get a real present too. And so nice to share it with you too" He drank a large gulp of his fancy wine and added, "And all because of the refugee issue too."

  "Speaking of which," Helena said, "the refugees are still up in low orbit. I'd like to bring some of them down for you to meet with them and get an impression—an opinion of what you think they're all about. Something is nagging at me—oh and my Gillian too. When an Issian gets jumpy, that's worth a big second look. Tomorrow, say here on the Sterling at lunch. My treat," she said and he smiled widely as he covered her hand with his.

  "Go on with the Enki story," she said and so he did.

  She nodded when she should. She asked the right questions when she should. She laid a hand on his arm a few times when he became animated about Bram's trial.

  She was, he suddenly realized, a perfect companion.

  He stopped talking and leaned back. What had he just thought?

  No matter, and he slightly lifted his rear end out of the chair, leaned right over the table, and kissed her.

  On the lips.

  Fully on her lips, which opened moments later ... and the rest of the evening was another birthday present too…

  CHAPTER TWO

  KappaD was not what one might call a “leading edge” world when it came to the general state of their administrative offices. It was run as a simple royal monarchy, with the current big chair held by Gerent Northos Phtuki, which meant that most things of any importance requiring discussions and conferences were held in the palace—but this time, the size of the refugee contingent made that impossible.

  While Tanner had explained at some length to the KappaD administrative folks that there was no need for all the refugees to attend this first contact conference, the refugees stated it was a necessity and that as the Vitsa of Iron, all had a right to hear and to speak on their own behalf. The word Vitsa had to be translated and was understood as a “clan,” which Tanner assumed was the basis for the societal class of this group.

  He shrugged. The conference was up to KappaD to arrange, as it was their planet, but he knew if all the refugees, numbering more than two hundred, wanted to be heard, it'd be a damn long day.

  Walking across the tarmac on the landing port, he looked around as he aimed at the far drill hall, where the meeting was to be held.

  On the pad closest to the Atlas lay the Sterling and his eyes lit up, as he expected Lady St. August would be joining them shortly too. Aren't birthdays the best day of the year—or of the last forty years, he thought and grinned.

  Beside him, his Adept offi
cer Bram Sander elbowed him; Bram had known instantly what his special present had been from the Lady St. August, and while he'd never mentioned it, whenever Tanner grinned, he grinned back. Having a mind reader on one's crew was one thing; having him as a close friend was better.

  As the two strode along, the Atlas XO Kondo Lazar waved at them with some other Atlas crewmembers, who were loaded up with tablets and files and such. He waved back and was glad that he'd said he'd like to walk for a change. Captaining a starship was one thing, but he'd learned long ago that sometimes the best of times was with no technology, no FTL, and nothing at all but being outside and in the sunshine.

  Closest ahead were three shuttles he'd never seen before. Each had a large embossed icon on the side of a hammer lying on top of two gears, and he assumed the shuttles belonged to the refugees. Will know soon, he thought, but why three with so much space in each? He shrugged and continued to walk in the mild early summer sunshine.

  Beyond the Sterling, he could see easily now a Caliphate cruiser—he didn't know the name, but the Caliphate icon of the crescent moon over a ringed planet could easily be seen even at this distance. Between that cruiser and him, he also saw a RIM Navy frigate, the Skoali with its own logo of the dagger over the star. Beside it were some service droids, and the welding sparkle was evident too. Must need some work, he thought, and as the drill hall was closer now, he saw there was some kind of a to-do going on.

  Great, he thought, issues before we even begin, and he sighed.

  "Sir, I am sorry, but the placement of your own area had to be moved—we did not expect more than two hundred refugees to be here," some kind of KappaD administrative clerk said to Kondo, and that got another "unacceptable" from him.

  "We were told ahead of our placement and have okayed it—have you not heard of protocols concerning first contact conferences?" he said as he glanced over at his captain.

  Tanner shook his head slightly and Kondo went on.