Ruined Memories (THE RIM CONFEDERACY Book 7)

by Jim Rudnick

  "Agreed, Hawsepiper, carry on," the chief said and led the way back out to the corridor to continue their tour of the ship.

  Tanner smiled and said calmly, "Your crew seems pretty capable, Chief. Do you work your labs and shops all the time? That is three shifts per day for a full week? Guess I'm asking about normal shipboard labor routines?"

  The chief nodded. "No, Sir, as we are only slightly more than fifty officers and crew—the rest of the two hundred odd of us are non-working families and such, we run these labs and shops only one day a week. Then we rotate to other areas, like salvage of equipment and stripping of new assets too; there's our selling teams that go down to KappaD with goods for a trading session or to the duchy for their annual fairs or the Alex’n hegemony for their monthly trading fairs. We also, of course, do a fair amount of trading—mostly newly found technologies—with the Leudies or the Faraway trade groups and as always with the Pentyaan empire as well. So really, there are few of us doing all the various tasks—not to mention the upkeep of the Scavenger herself. I'm sure the captain would agree that keeping a ship space-worthy can be a daunting task, yes?" The chief smiled and Tanner noted that was the man's first-ever personalized comment.

  Tanner laughed and nodded as they went farther down the corridor, thinking he still had much to learn here.

  They moved though the ship still quite slowly, working their way back to drive engineering, and the Atlas group was pleased to note that this area was well populated with crew and engineering officers as well. Neat. Clean—spotless in fact. The drive bays were at a par with any navy ship's comparable area, he noted, and he was happy to see that. Capable and clean—all good navy comparisons.

  They stopped for a quick overview of the engineering master control panel, and while it was not in universal English, it was easy to see that it had a sense of being well laid out. It was color coded and even the big monitor had icons—some steady and some pulsing too. Some of the icons were very odd looking Tanner thought as he glanced over the boiling kettle, the triple-ringed planet, and something that looked like a huge fish or whale.

  He shook his head remembering that the value he placed on an icon was obviously not shared by aliens—at least as far as he could tell.

  As they began their way forward once more from the rear of the ship, they passed through the core areas of the ship—the areas that had the most protection from the other decks between them and hull. Here, the chief had said that their families had been placed, and he was right.

  Huge rooms lay spread out across the ship with groups of children and adults and even some oldsters too, all enjoying the huge view-screens of entertainment and music too. Some of the children ran up to them and spoke to them in another language, which Tanner assumed was their native tongue. Others just waved and went back to their crafts and colorings and the like.

  Farther ahead was a large closed double set of doors, which the XO pointed at and raised an eyebrow to the chief.

  "Yes, this area is always kept closed—it is where our Kris is held—all important decisions on the ship-wide or community level are made by the Kris, or council of elders. So we keep it closed ‘til it's needed—sort of as a remembrance of its importance."

  They walked on and in a few more yards were at the edge of the landing bay where their shuttle lay.

  Captain Rossum was waiting for them and touched her hammer and cogs icon too to show her respect for her visitors.

  "Captain Scott—we are glad to have offered this little visit to you and your crewmen," she said.

  He nodded but asked a final question. "Captain, you did say when we first met, that you 'knew' of me—and I have to ask why, Ma’am? Of all the billions of citizens on the RIM, why did you look into me?" he wanted to know.

  She nodded and one hand dropped to her side. "We had to find a champion, Captain. Someone who would over feelings, follow duty. Someone who would obey the statutes and laws over and above his own personal emotions. We asked around, Captain, over the past few weeks—and one name, one name only, came to people’s minds, Sir—your own. And each one we asked who named you simply said that they knew you were such a man—considering the Halberd prison planet rebellion. It's even in Gallipedia now too, Sir. So we think you're our champion ..."

  He shrugged. No matter what he said, it was likely that was exactly what happened, and he made another mental note to look that up in Gallipedia too.

  "Thank you, Captain. I see now why you looked for me, but in all honesty, Halberd was simple and no real task either. I was there to protect the heads of state of the RIM—so yes, as a Navy man, I just did my duty," he finished off. Lame excuse, he thought, and he once again shook the Roma captain’s handand thanked the chief.

  Slowly, he and his group mounted the landing ramp back inside the Atlas shuttle. Moments later, they were out and away, and the shuttle was filled with talk about what they'd seen, heard, felt, and yes, learned too.

  As he took part in the conversation, he realized he'd need to compose a full report on this and deploy it to the Lady St. August and gerent of KappaD, and it would find its way to the RIM Council too.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Admiral McQueen was not impressed—not even a little—with the Agenda today, and as he was a full voting member of the Executive Committee of the Confederacy Council, he intended to speak his mind. Rifling through his folders, he found the one with the reports as tendered by Gerent Phutuki on the initial contact information with these Roma refugees, and he put it down in front of him but at the bottom of the pile. Above it sat the very detailed report by Captain Scott, who'd actually been picked by them to be the first to visit their ship.

  He shook his head. Scott was—if all the scuttlebutt was true—a changed navy man. His alcoholism had disappeared, and medical reports that he'd been able to coddle from his contacts on the Barony Hospital Ship reported that his PTSD was also on the wane, and the admiral knew his navy skills were beyond most.

  Should'a found a way to keep him in the Confederacy Navy, he thought as the chairman of the committee, the Alex’n Gramsci walked in as usual carrying multiple stacks of files in all of his six arms. He nodded to the admiral, took his usual seat at the round table, and began to sort out his folders and files just as he always did. Following him a moment later, the Master Adept walked in, looking better the admiral thought than she had in months. Things over on Eons must be better so kudos to her.

  The Baroness of Neres was next as she and the Duke d'Avigdor walked in together. Today she was a vision in teal starting with some kind of a tint in her hair, eye makeup, gorgeous gems on her necklace, and a heavy thick teal leather top with matching boots too. Teal appeared to be her color of the day, and she was one of the reasons the admiral had to always be on guard in all things, as she was an iron fist in a velvet teal glove. The duke finished his story, and laughing, the two took their seats as the Doge of Carnarvon appeared followed by the Caliphate's Caliph—both of them lost in thought, it appeared.

  Looking around and seeing full attendance, the chairman got right to it. "We've a long day perhaps—so you will see on your Agenda, I have structured our list of topics by their needed timelines. And yes, today we will get to them all, and yes, all will be heard—as usual. Clerk?" he said, and he turned over the agenda delivery to their clerk.

  "Chairman and committee—first up today, as you'll note, is the current state of the relations between the Leudies and Faraway—trade wars is what I've called it—and things, as you will note, are getting more serious between these two members ..."

  Talk began. Talk ensued. No one could really come up with much more than agreeing on the basics. Leudies had always been a major member of the Confederacy who seemed to own the trade between the other forty members. Faraway was new to this kind of commerce, yet had forced their way into same with faster FTL ships, better deals, and more choice. The Leudies hated that since they were all entrepreneurs who were only loosely connected at all. Yet the Faraway traders were all supp
orted and even subsidized by their government. Individuals against a realm was how the Baroness put it, and there was no doubt that she was a Faraway supporter. Yet the duke took the opposite side and made a solid argument, the admiral thought, for the rights of the individual entrepreneur and how that was the real basis on which to vote for that side.

  Yet, no vote was called. The Doge of Carnarvon dryly mentioned that this kind of a trade war would only be good for the whole of the Confederacy itself—when competing sellers vie, prices go down, and he simply asked to table it for “further study,” which received some nods, so it was agreed by all.

  The clerk read the second item on the day's agenda—Eons and the changes to their naval academy, and she looked to the Master Adept as the first speaker.

  "Sorry, my apologies to the Master Adept, but I would like to just say something up front—before we hear from her. As you all know," the Baroness said as she leaned forward at her place, "we—the Barony—are in the process of closing down our own academy, in order to move all of our students and professors over to the Eons Academy. This is a major change for us—but we believe that the simple truth is that the best navy education can only be had there. We are paying for all the costs too for such a move, which is considerable for more than a thousand students and staff. I just wanted to say that upfront, is all." She leaned back.

  The clerk nodded and then turned to the Master Adept, who slightly bowed her head at the notice that she could now speak.

  "I thank the Baroness for her interruption and would only add to that, that a part of our request for a look at our navy academics for budgeting purposes might take place soon. We are fine so far—yet we do not know the final costs of such a large influx of students and staff. Nor for that matter, where and how we will expand after that influx. We also note that there are still other naval academies here on the RIM like over on Novertag and Ttseens and the twin ones on Duos. We continue our program of trying to get them all to come to agree that for the best of all the RIM Confederacy members, every single naval personnel be communally trained and taught only the best—by the best. It is what we've always strived for, and hopefully, they will come over to our way of thinking too. So I just ask that in, say, three months we revisit this agenda topic for further discussion," she finished off and then smiled at everyone.

  Sitting on a committee with someone—the best on the RIM—who can read minds was a topic all of its own, the admiral thought, and he nodded at that himself.

  The clerk, however, asked for a show of hands for the vote on that topic, and as the smile on the Master Adept's face had shown, the vote was in unanimous favor.

  They moved on and covered the recent successful referendum over on Olbia, which had moved that planet out of the Caliphate and on its own as a pro tem member of the Confederacy. That would come up for more study at a later time, and it was voted on and passed with the usual abstention by the Caliph. Losing a planet from his realm had not been a reputation-building experience, the admiral thought.

  The Barony planet, Throth, was up next, and it was handled with aplomb by the Baroness. All appeared to be going as planned. The Ikarians were settling in nicely, the committee was told. The Ikarian children were taking well to their new home planet, and they had begun to slowly add—after testing, the Baroness added—new flora and fauna to the planet too. Including, she said, for a reason she could not understand, some large predators that seemed to take especially well to the climate and ecosystem too. In a few weeks alone, she reminded the committee, there would need to be some kind of thought spent on the final end use of their ship—the Keshowse, which still lay less than two lights off Novertag. She invited the committee to come up with ideas on that as the fifteen-hundred-foot ship was a millennium and a half out of date in respect to technology. She added, the admiral noted, that they could simply drop her into the Novertag sun if that was the answer most sought.

  "No interest at all from the Ikarians themselves in perhaps saving the ship by moving it to their new home planet? Perhaps," the doge said, "like some kind of a monument or a museum even?"

  The admiral had to agree here—that too made more sense than dropping her into a sun.

  "We've asked that question dozens of times—and each time we get the same answer. They have no interest in that at all—and as the tech is so old, pre-FTL, I remind you, it has no value that we can see at all," the Baroness finished.

  No vote was called on that, but the admiral noted that all at the table made notes on their tablets or wrist PDAs and finally, they moved on to the next item.

  The clerk read the topic off simply. "We have been asked to consider the admittance of a group—umm, two hundred or so—of refugees into the RIM Confederacy, under the realm of the Barony. As this all is happening on KappaD, we sent through to you earlier reports on this by the gerent of KappaD and also by captain Tanner Scott of the Barony Bavy ship the Atlas. He is there on KappaD, and he was invited personally by the—the—leader of this group to visit the refugee ship. Full reports are also in front of you as well—Baroness, will you speak to this first?" she asked.

  The Baroness nodded. "Yes, as my stepdaughter the Lady St. August is also there on KappaD, I have the added knowledge that this is a plain and simple request. Much like the refugee claim made just a decade or so back, when the Confederacy had a larger group from Pentyaan space make that same request. As I remember, we admitted them fine, allowed them to look over the Confederacy, and they are now full members over on Zadra. Sidebar too? That group of refugees is also apparently somewhat responsible for changes to our force field manufacturing too—a real boost, the Zadrians say. Same here, I believe, and while there are only a couple of hundred, we would still be pleased to accept them on a pro tem basis. Final citizenship can come later," she said.

  The admiral chimed in then—this was the spot, he knew. "Except, Ma’am, that you perhaps have not been told that there are other things in play here. I understand from our own navy captain of the Skoali, Herb Landish, that there are some issues with the 'why' this claim was made, Ma’am. I've been told that they are scared—as they are running away from something. So I would add that the last thing the RIM might want to do is to take in someone who has been chased—hunted even—as that would open us all up for conflict. Ma’am," he said, and he looked at her directly.

  She nodded to him and held out a hand palm up. "Admiral, yes, forgive me, please. They have said to my daughter as well that they are scared of what they found on that hidden planet of Memories in the nebula just below our RIM Confederacy borders near Pentyaan space. That planet has been lost for hundreds of years—Ansible unable to pierce the nebula due to its composition, I've been told. Yet they found it. And something there—outside the RIM itself—scared them. How much trouble could a single ship with a couple hundred women, men, children, and oldsters have gotten into. And surely you're not indicating that the RIM Navy is not up to protecting our borders—are you, Admiral?" she said, the edge of steel coming out in her tone.

  He fumed for a moment and then answered her back. "Ma’am, not at all. It's just that we're not aware of what happened on Memories. Even Captain Scott's report, which I thought might have asked that question and gotten an answer, is blank on that aspect. We need more, Ma’am—and I officially request from this committee that we hold off on any claim acceptance until, at the least, we go to Memories with these refugees to see exactly what we might be facing. Ma’am," he said, and his words hung heavy over the committee table.

  Everyone was looking at the Baroness when the Master Adept spoke up. "Admiral—we agree. While it's just good management of our Confederacy to always try to determine what might be a threat to our well-being, I would like to add a small caution here. We Issians, as you all know, can often sense things that are in our future—not often, however, collectively. While it's true that an Issian with this skill can tell for instance which elevator will come to the lobby first or what corner to go and stand on for the next robo-cab to sh
ow up—the ability to see the future of the Confederacy is a whole other matter. You perhaps will remember that less than a year ago, before our sortie to Enki, that at a meeting of this committee, I told of something that few of us had seen coming—war. While that did not prove out to have anything to do with our diplomacy mission to Enki—that feeling of war here on the RIM is now even stronger. Before you ask for more—I have no more than that ... but something is coming to our Confederacy that will be war. I wonder if this refugee and Memories might be the instigator—so I preach that we all consider our next move wisely," she said, her voice like a calm before a storm.

  Everyone sat back at that caution and was alone in their thoughts for a few minutes.

  The chairman finally spoke up. "So, if I have this right then, here's what I believe we now consider as the way to go forward. Until further notice—the refugees are not being granted status at all by the Barony or the RIM Confederacy. We would like to, instead, investigate what the circumstances are for their claim. As the biggest and best ship on the RIM is the Barony Navy Atlas, I would suggest that we empower the captain—and perhaps even the Lady St. August—to take a small group of those refugees back to Memories. To learn as much as is possible and to send off a probe as well with information as it arises, for our Executive Committee EYES ONLY. In that way, we will be gathering information, weighing what it is that has so scared these refugees and seeing what we think of same. Would that be acceptable to one and all here?" he added.

  Nods went almost around the table.

  "But if I could add one more thing please, Chairman? That you allow me—the chief of staff—to also send a small contingent to act as the official RIM Navy cadre on this mission. I believe that the RIM destroyer the Nugent is lying off of Hope right now—she could be on KappaD in less than eighteen days? Having more navy men onboard is a good thing, I'd agree—and also that they would be the official mission leaders as our own navy men."