by Rob Buckman
The admiral answered, “Morgan later sued the publishers and Exquemelin for libel after he was acquitted of piracy and was awarded £200. Exquemelin was forced to retract his statement and reprint the subsequent editions with a disclaimer that all characters in his book were fictional and bore no relationship to any person, living or dead. We still have that little bit of history in the front of fiction books today.”
“I see, but what has Henry Morgan got to do with me?” Mike asked.
“You might want to read the historical account of his adventures and use it as a template, or basis for your own plan.
“Yes, sir. But I’m going to need crews for those ships, crews I can trust.”
“True, and I think you will find them at the Royal Navy stations I’m going to have you visit. Sadly, their lordships at the Admiralty saw fit to strip the home fleet of most of its loyal officers and crew.” He held his hand up before Mike could speak. “I have managed to purge most of the unreliable officers and enlisted personnel from some key ships, mostly the heavy cruisers and battleships, so I have the core of a fighting force the Sirriens won’t be expecting.” The admiral was painting a bleak picture. If most of the home fleet surrendered, or turned tail and ran, the admiral would be left with just a few ships to fight a combined Sirrien Fleet.
“So what is your plan, sir?”
“Oh, we’ll put on a good account of ourselves, but in the end, they will annihilate us.”
“There is the Pluto WP, sir. You could run for that at some point and save some of the ships.”
“Yes, I know. That’s my one ace in the hole. If possible, I’ll arrange for the best ships' crews to be on certain ships. At the right moment, the captains will have orders to disengage from the action and run for the Pluto WP. The Sirriens won’t be expecting that, thinking they’ll have nowhere to go. I’ll order them to head for Avalon to boost your complement.”
“If… when that happens, and they have to run to Enright’s Folly, as I mentioned, the ships entering will have to follow the directions very carefully, otherwise they’ll end up getting sucked into a black hole or being pulled into a class II giant star.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“There’s only a small margin of error, Admiral.”
Admiral Rawlings didn’t look happy, even with the news about Enright’s WP.
“You don’t look happy about it, sir.”
The admiral nodded and sighed, “I have no way of knowing if those captains will obey the final order. They just might want to stay and fight one last battle. Can’t blame them really.”
“I can understand that, sir. They would be forever branded as the ships that ran away from defending Earth, their homeland.” It was a bleak picture, and a decision he’d hate to face, “And my written orders, sir?”
“You’ve just received them. The written orders will be in the Letter of Marque.” He looked straight at Mike when he said it, adding nothing.
“Yes, sir.” It was as clear as day that the admiral was giving him a free hand to do whatever he considered necessary to get the job done, and no one would be the wiser.”
“Seeing as we have been officially ordered to provide an escort for the resupply fleet, I’m going to take the opportunity to send the youngest, and most reliable crews I can on those escort ships. I’ll also include sealed orders for what to do once they reach their destinations.”
“In what way, sir?”
“I’m thinking that they and their crews could act as your core team to man those new ships. You’ll have to weed out those you think might not cut it, or seem unreliable.” Mike nodded in agreement. It would solve the problem of finding crews for the new ships.
“It’s no good leaving RN personnel at those bases. The moment war is declared, the Sirriens will take over those bases, and as things stand they don’t have the defenses to fight off an invasion fleet.”
“They wouldn’t have much choice, fight and die or surrender and probably die in some stinking POW camp, knowing the Sirriens.”
“That will be in their sealed orders. Once gathered up they can man your supply base and supply additional crews as needed depending on your losses.” That was a chilling thought.
“That’s a great idea, sir. Depending on how many people we can pick up.”
“A couple of thousand I should think. Oh yes, there is one odd thing. I received a flash report of an unexpected explosion out in the belt.”
“Odd.”
“The message that came in a few moments after that said there was a Sirrien spy ship lurking around out there. Could your ship be the source of that message?”
“It very well could be. I ordered my XO, Standish-Owen to move the Nemesis out to the belt. Very hard to pick up anything among those wandering asteroids,” he smiled.
“Well, whoever sent it gave me a good excuse to send picket ships and patrol craft out there to have a look. We did capture one damaged Sirrien spy vessel, not that we got much out of her. They’d purged her data banks, and as they were in uniform we had no option but to treat them as POWs instead of spies.” The admiral sighed, “As no state of war exists between Earth and the Sirriens as yet, all we could do was hold them until an exchange could be made for some of ours.” Mike could see that didn’t sit well with him.
“Anyway, I’d say the picket ships and patrol vessels should be on station for at least a week, if not longer. That should give you the opportunity to get out of the system without much trouble. How you are going to get by the OWP at Solar North, I don’t know.”
“Thank you, sir, that will help. I’ll just have to figure out a way to do it without getting into a shooting match,” He grinned at the admiral.
“Hum! I should bloody well hope so.” He returned the smile. “I’ll be on my way. Good luck and good hunting.” Mike stood and came to attention. He wanted to salute, but without a cap on, he couldn’t. The admiral understood and reached over to tap him on the shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Captain Bear.” Rolly did salute him, his face working with unspoken emotion before turning and following the admiral out.
Mike sat for a while before going to bed to listen to the local news feed on Earth and outer systems news. None of it sounded good. The Sirriens were intruding more into sovereign spaces, border skirmishes, disputes over planetary claims, just to name a few of the top stories. How soon outright war would be declared was anyone's guess, but the smart money had already bet on less than a year.
The prospect of seeing Anna pushed most of the gloomy outlook to the back of his mind. He had a job to do and he chafed at the delay of having to sit around the Guild Hall and twiddle his thumbs while he waited. In the end, he went to the gym and worked out for several hours before showering and going to bed wishing there was a certain, warm, compliant body in there with him. As promised, the invitation for Max Tregallion arrived first thing the next morning while he and Jenks were having breakfast.
“Ha ha! At last,” he grinned, feeling as if a load had been lifted from his shoulders, “get your best bib and tucker out Jenks; we are going to the palace.”
Jenks looked at him, startled for the moment. “What me! he spluttered. “You have to be kidding me. My dear old dad would turn in his grave if he knew I was hob knobbing with the gentry.”
“How so?” Mike asked, a bit puzzled.
“He was a diehard Labor man and a Union steward to boot.”
“Anti royalist, huh?”
“What… well, I wouldn’t go as far as to say that, but he thought all those upper class blokes were a bunch of blood-sucking ponces, if you take me meaning.”
“Well, my old son, your dear old dad will be positively spinning after today, as I’m going to introduce you to his nibs himself,” Mike laughed at the expression on Jenks face.
“You mean… the King… Himself?”
“Yes, and you might just find he’s not such a bad sort after all.”
“Not ruddy likely,” Jenks muttered as he dug back into his oatm
eal and fruit. Even so, Mike could see the bemused look on his face at the prospect.
All told, it took them and hour to prepare, and turn Mike back into Max Tregallion, Victoria used her makeup kit to apply the finishing touches. They exited the Guild Hall with all due ceremony as befitting the owner and founder of Avalon, and there were even a few news reporters on hand snapping photos as Max and Jenks entered the armored ground car. Max grumbled loudly about everything, while Jenks acted as the long-suffering servant complete with surly look and snide comments. The drive to Buckingham Palace was uneventful as Mike knew it would be. He could have taken the bus or walked and been just as safe. As much as the Sirriens wanted to drive a wedge between Earth and Avalon, taking out the founder of Avalon would probably have the opposite effect. Without knowing exactly what Avalon had in the way of a Navy, the last thing the Sirriens wanted was a bunch of pissed off supermen at their backs. The car slid through the ornate, gilded front gates of the palace with all the ceremony of a visiting dignitary and he was soon ushered inside.
“Struth! That’s the bloody King,” Jenks muttered behind “Max”.
“Suck it up, Marine,” Mike whispered back as he hobbled up the short staircase.
“Mr. Tregallion. Welcome to Buckingham palace,” The King intoned as he stepped forward to shake hands. For a moment, Mike almost fell out of character as he saw the Lady Anne standing behind and to the side of the King, now dressed as the Princess Royal, and looking her normal frosty self, every inch the ice princess.
“Hmm, yes, well. Glad to be here, your Majesty,” he muttered, trying to stay in character.
“It’s been a few years since we last met.” For a moment, Mike froze. He didn’t know that Max and the King had ever met. No one had ever mentioned it.
“Yes… it has, but for the life of me, I can’t remember the meeting very well.”
“Understandable, it was over seventy years ago.”
“That long huh.” They finished shaking hands. “I’d like to introduce you to my companion, your Majesty, Mr. Jenks Silverman of London.” He said, stepping to one side.
“Mr. Silverman, you are more than welcome here if you are a friend of Max Tregallion.” The King held his hand out.
“I… well… Yes… pleased to meet you as well, your Majesty.” They shook and Mike had to suppress his grin seeing the bemused look on Jenks’ face.
“May I introduce you to the Princess Royal and the Prince of Wales.” Anne curtsied, and the prince gave a slight bow before they each shook hands. Mike did hold the princess's hand a little longer than protocol dictated and managed to pocket the slip of paper she palmed before he shook hands with the prince. A chamberlain led the party through the palace to a comfortable looking sitting room, where the King motioned toward a group of easy chairs set around a large coffee table.
“Please be seated, Mr. Tregallion.”
“Thank you, your Majesty. Be good to get off these old legs of mine,” “Max” huffed and he plonked himself down in the closest chair. As he did, the door opened again and in walked, Seaford, Ross, Taffy, and Jimmy Bettencourt, all four grinning.
“I believe you already know these four layabouts,” The King said as he sat. Mike struggled to his feet and shook hands all around.
“Yes, I’ve had the dubious pleasure of meeting them before, your Majesty,” he laughed. After shaking hands Seaford took something out of his pocket, placed it in the center of the coffee table, and switched it on.
“Are we safe, Seaford?”
“Yes, sir. We are now.
“Thank goodness for that, though I must say, if I hadn’t known, I would have sworn this young fellow was Max Tregallion,” the King chuckled. “You carried that off to perfection, Mike.”
“Thank you, sir. Having met my great grandfather and discovering that I looked like him, it was easy. Just a skin mask, some padding, and makeup and… Well as you can see,” he said, patting his ample tummy, and wondering what old Max would say if he could see him, as Max’s tummy was flat and as hard a iron.
“Well, it fooled me. I thought you were Max from what I remember of him. He was always a bit cantankerous, even back then,” the King mused, “anyway, to business, but before we do, a private word, Mr. Tregallion.”
“Of course your Majesty.” Mike answered, pretending to struggle to his feet again. The King motioned him to follow, and led him to a small sitting room off to the side. As he did, Mike took a brief moment to look at the note Anne slipped him …I love you – tonight… was all it said.
“On the request of my daughter, I have had your Letter of Marque drawn up. All that remains is for me to sign it.” He looked directly at Mike for a moment. “I know you as an honorable man, Leftenant Gray, courageous, loyal, and dedicated to your duty, but what about Captain Bear, can the same be said of him?” For a moment, Mike didn’t know what to say. “I ask this, as what I am going to give you in the Letter of Marque in essence is a license to do anything you please, under the color of law.”
“The name might be different, sir, but Leftenant Gray and Captain Bear are one and the same when it comes to protecting this kingdom. I will do nothing, nor permit anything to be done that will bring disgrace, or dishonor to you, your family, or your kingdom, sir.”
The King nodded, “As I thought, Michael, but these are hard times, and who can say what position you will be placed in where those words might not apply.” The King looked out the window for a moment. “As things stand now, the Royal Navy can’t stop the Sirriens from taking this system as much as they’d like to think so. There are projects afoot to make sure they take nothing of importance when they arrive.” He held his hand up before Mike could ask. “I’ll say no more, but rest assured that everything that can be done to help you is being done.”
Mike took a deep breath, “I’m only one man, sir.” Suddenly, it felt as if a great weight had landed on his shoulders, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for it.
“I know, Mike, and it’s a lot to ask of one man. You will have to wage an undeclared war on the Sirriens, and continue after this system falls. As far as anyone outside this building knows, you will be a privateer; if captured; you will probably be hung as a pirate. But, you have shown you are a resourceful man who can think on his feet and take the initiative where needed, and that’s all I can ask.”
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
The King walked over and gripped his shoulder, “I know you will, and keep my daughter safe.”
Mike stood up straight and swallowed the lump in his throat. Those words confirmed that the King knew full well his relationship with the princess, and approved.
“So, off you go to your meeting. I won’t be there for obvious reasons. What I don’t know, I can’t tell.” He smiled, and with one last squeeze of Mike’s shoulder, left the room. With those thoughts swirling around in his brain, Mike strode back into the sitting room, seeing Jenks take up his usual position right behind his chair as he sat.
“So, where were we?” Someone had brought in coffee and brandy, and Mike took a little of each.
“To bring you up to speed, Mike,” Princess Anne started after a quick look around the group, “since the um… reorganization of the intelligence section, Seaford has taken over as head of the new combined intelligence services. Ross and Taffy are his number two's, respectively domestic and foreign, so to speak.”
“I wondered why everyone was pulling their hair out trying to discover who was in charge now,” Mike chuckled.
“We thought it best to keep everyone guessing and not to present a target of opportunity,” Seaford smiled, “anonymity has its rewards.
“I won’t go into what they are up to for security reasons, but I will say they are preparing for the inevitable invasion,” Anne added.”
“So there’s no way we can stop them, I take it,” Mike asked, seeing Seaford, Ross and Taffy shake their heads.
“Damn it, I wish to hell I’d killed that little twit when I had the chance.”
<
br /> Seeing the puzzled look on Seaford’s face, “He means Prince Philippe,” Anne added.
“Yes, it is a pity, not that I think it would have made much difference in the long run. There is something in the French/German gene that makes them want to go invade someone else’s territory for no apparent reason.”
“Oh, come now. We Brits have done that a time or two,” Ross put in, thinking of his native Scottish highlands.
“True, but some like to do it more than others,” Taffy grumbled.
“Anyway,” Anne snapped, bringing everyone's attention back to the meeting at hand, “Mike has his marching orders, and so do we, so let’s get on with it.”
“One point I’d like to make, actually a request,” Mike held up his hand.
“Go on,” Anne smiled at him that spoke of many things.
“It’s about the shipyard crew that built the Nemesis. They know how she was built, armament, armor, and propulsion and a lot more besides.” That made several of them sit up.
“Good heavens, we forgot about them.”
“As the admiral said, there are no official records of her existence anywhere, but those people could give up everything if they or their families were threatened.”
“So, what are you proposing, Mike?”
“I’d like to get them all and their families out of here. There is room on the Orion Dawn, but I’d need some cover to get them out of there without anyone being the wiser.”
“You think you can convince them to leave?” Ross asked. That was a thought. Most of the men and women were born and raised in and around Devonport; some might not want to leave the place they called home.
“I honestly don’t know the answer to that. I’ll just have to go down there and ask them.”
“I can arrange to move and hide those that don’t want to go,” Seaford offered, “but where would you take them?”