by Jim Rudnick
One man turned 180 degrees immediately and began to step quickly to turn the log beneath his feet, while his competitor also quickly turned and began to tread backward. As the speed increased, Tanner noted that it was the challenger who’d started things off, and he increased his speed trying to run last year’s champion off the log to no avail, as the older champion’s feet moved like the wind. As the challenger continued to try to speed things up, somehow the past champion was able to slow the spinning somewhat and then he leapt up and turned and came down to immediately try to increase the speed himself.
That was enough for the younger man as the log burled only for a moment, and he flew off and into the water amidst cheering and catcalls from the crowd around the tank.
Tanner grinned at his lieutenant and nodded toward the champion who was holding up clasped hands over his head as the log slowed beneath his feet.
“Any way to tell that he was going to do that?” he asked.
Sander shook his head.
“Not in the least, at least not to my abilities, Captain. He was simply quoting a nursery rhyme in his head and then he turned to attack when he got to the end of a verse. I’d suspect that he had planned to do that, right when the verse ended, but it wasn’t a conscious thought that I could see ... just that dang nursery rhyme over and over.”
The two men left the tank area and slowly moved by the log cutting and climbing areas. As they moved through, they saw crowds at most of the various competitions, cheering and egging on the competitors. Going around the crowds was easy enough, and then they found themselves at the Issian Adept area, with various displays and tables and chairs set up for anyone to watch or to get their fortunes told. As all Adepts were Issians from Eons, they were always in black, always in robes and not shirts and pants, always with that black shawl on their head that sometimes covered their entire face or sat perched on top when they were communicating. For hundreds of years now, this religious cult had been the birth ground for the ability to see into another’s mind; to be able to look inside to see what the conscious thoughts were that were out in the open.
Tanner knew that you could hide your real thoughts for a while, behind nursery rhymes like the log roller they’d met for instance. If you could consciously think of one thing, while holding your true thoughts off to the side, no Adept could find out what you were truly thinking. And he also knew that this was hard to do for any length of time. And when faced with a dangerous situation, he also knew that you just couldn’t keep your thoughts away from what faced you and on nursery rhymes. It just didn’t work.
Some Adepts called Masters, he knew, could sometimes get a feeling of your overall tone of mind, for instance were you happy or were you sad. And some of the very best ones could somehow measure your own mind against others they’d met and somehow come up with a generality about you and your future. But never with any guarantees or for the most part even a surety. Here at the festival, he thought, it’d be mostly done to impress the locals and not much more.
As they moved along the fringes of the various participants, Tanner saw an older woman, located at the very center of the area in a roped-off area, who was looking straight at him, who never took her eyes off him as far as they made their way along the outside of the area. He nudged Sander and arched an eyebrow at him.
“Yes, Sir, she is a Master Adept and she wishes to talk to you is all that I get, but she is very, very strong, Sir. Her skills are far advanced from my own,” he said quietly, as he led their way through the displays and other Adepts who were scattered throughout the area. As they got closer, they went by other Adepts who sat talking with a seated festival goer, telling their fortunes for a price or reading their minds for fun.
Coming up on the roped-off area, Sander looked at the Master Adept, then nodded, and moved the rope to the side to let them enter. As they did, the woman pushed out the chair opposite her with her foot to allow the Captain to sit, which he did. He looked at her and waited. She would do the talking, and he’d do the listening.
She stared into his eyes, her face blank and impassive. Around her head she wore the shawl of the Issian faith and at her collar the icon broach of a ringed planet. Dressed all in black, she was a normal-sized woman of Eons, short in stature. Her only really unique feature was her staring green eyes, Tanner thought as he gazed back at them. Barely wrinkled bronze-toned skin surrounded those eyes, and her eyebrows sat over her eyes like skinny caterpillars covered in sparse fur.
“Well, it’s our guest of honor,” she said and dipped her head as a sort of ceremonial bow to him.
So he smiled back at her, bowed down a bit further, and then sat up to stare back at her.
“And I see that our honored guest has had trying times in the past few years, times that found him unable to remember much of those years.” Her gaze never wavered, drilling into his own as thoughts of the Scotch years drifted by in his head.
“And I see that your current quest is a bit delayed; you await developments that you do not control,” she added and then held out her palm on the table for him to place his own within her grasp.
He did so, gently placing his hand on top of hers and looked down as her fingers slowly curled around his own palm.
“Um ... yes, and I see ... I see that your quest involves Royalty here on the RIM ...” she added as he raised his sight to again look back at her.
“Well, yes ... Ma’am. The Duke and I are, well, I would suppose that we are fairly close after our last few days together,” he said with a simple smile on his face. After all, he was the Duke’s guest of honor.
“Not the Duke, Captain, but someone else of Royalty holds much of your future within her hands—but be careful, Captain, if you choose incorrectly ...” She dropped her gaze with that and pulled her hand away quickly.
“But wait, what do you mean ... what can you see?” he questioned her, as he leaned forward over her small table that stood between them.
She shook her head and looked away, and it was Sander’s pulling grasp that he next noticed.
“Captain ... Captain, she is through. She will speak to you no more, Sir. Come, we must leave. Sir, please ...” he said as he pulled Tanner to his feet and away from the table. Walking away, Tanner looked backward and saw that the Master Adept had now covered her head with her shawl, and at tables around hers, other Adepts were silent, watching him and Sander walk away.
They walked a bit farther, until they were able to find a seat on a bench opposite a wrestling match between two Leudies, all that bare blue flesh rolling and twisting before them, their neck snakes trying to snap at each other too. Tanner sat quietly for a moment and then turned to Sander.
“Sir, sorry, but no. I was totally unable to read anything from the Master but what she directed to me to hear. All I can say is that she believes she is totally correct—that she was unable to hide from me,” he said, shaking his head.
“So, what did she mean ‘her hands’ Sander? The only Royalty that could be is the Baroness, and I’ve no idea what that meant, nor what kind of choice I’ll face either,” he said with little conviction. What the Master had said meant little to him, he realized, without some further explanations.
“No, Sir, actually we can’t go back to see her as she will not speak to you again was the last thing I got as we walked away. I am afraid that the caution you received was all that she was willing to pass along. Course, there is one small item you may not have thought of,” he added, looking at his captain.
“Um ... then I assume if you’re offering same here, Lieutenant, that you know I’ve not thought of it. Out with it please,” he said.
“Sir, she mentioned Royalty and ‘her hands.’ Perhaps she meant the Lady Helena, the Baroness’s step-daughter?”
Tanner closed his mouth, and instead of interrupting the lieutenant, he sat and watched the wrestlers in front of him. Paying little attention to them, he nodded after a moment and half-turned to Sander.
“Yes, that too fits within the
Adept’s answer, but I can’t imagine her playing any kind of role at all in my future. Of course, the real trick would be which one of them the Adept meant,” he pondered as the sounds of a referee’s count just ahead of them began in a loud voice. As the cheers and catcalls of the crowd rang out, the two sat and watched another whole match before Tanner shrugged and stood to leave the area.
“Come on, Lieutenant, back to the ship and let’s dress for the big dinner tonight, dress whites all around,” he said as they began the long walk back to the Marwick picking their way through the even bigger crowds to get ready for later this evenings feast.
As they moved through the festival grounds, a pair of eyes from a small tent near the Adept area followed them as they went by; green eyes that never wavered until they were out of sight ...
# # # # #
“Come, Tanner, one more, I insist,” the Duke said, as he held out the new bottle of single-malt Scotch above Tanner’s now empty glass as the steward retired from the room.
Tanner shook his head and noted that it felt much much larger than he ever wanted it to feel again and held his hand over the top.
“Sorry, David ... just couldn’t, don’t need any more at all ... got far too much aboard as it is ...” he said slowly to avoid slurring his words.
The feast had gone well, and he and the rest of the Duke’s party on the dais had enjoyed roast oved and sirloins of beef and boar ribs from the royal farms here on d'Avigdor. There had been some speeches, and he’d had to accept a nice medal from the Duke and a scroll that made him an honorary member for life of the Duke’s hunting lodge on Anulet. He’d kept his remarks short and thanked the Duke graciously for providing the hunting education that allowed him to save his host. Once that was done, the stewards had brought out bottle after bottle of various local and galactic favorites, and his officers had really partied well as only Navy men can do. The Duke seemed not only to not mind, but often went over to their tables and sat with them for a period of time, toasting and truly being just another Navy man at a party.
Later, they’d been entertained by dancing troupes of Alex’in; more than fifty of these insect-looking aliens had danced and fluttered in the royal banquet room for almost an hour. Then a choir of Altos had sung deep tenor and bass quatrains while Quarans had then cavorted and jumped almost to the ceiling in their own acrobatic manner. Off to one side, an orchestra provided much music throughout the evening and now into the late hours heading toward dawn. The Duke had let everyone go when they had pleased, and now the room contained only the two of them and that new bottle of scotch. So far, Tanner had only had to have one drink throughout the night, trying to not succumb to the temptation of his favorite liquor in all the worlds.
“Nonsense, Tanner. Gotta have one more, let’s call it a night-cap, and then we’ll retire,” he said as he poured a bit sloppily a good three inches of Scotch into both glasses.
“Fine ... now, where were we,” he said as he sipped the fresh drink.
“We were ... were ... we were talking about how much of your time is spent in meetings to ... ah ... to do what?” Tanner queried.
“Um ... um ... to manage my kingdom.” The Duke smiled as he suddenly remembered where the conversation had been left off before that new bottle of Scotch had been brought in.
“Sure, that’s where we were. It’s tough to know what to do in all cases, but I learned most of what I know by being my father’s heir. I try to do what I think he would do, and in most cases it’s worked out very well. Our citizens are happy, our worlds flourish, and for the most part, we’ve no real problems on the horizon,” he said proudly and only once did he stammer as his alcohol-laden brain tried to keep up with his mouth.
Tanner nodded in agreement.
“Right, David ... right. Uh ... say what was one of those ‘cases’ where things didn’t go so well,?” he questioned, wondering what the Duke might have had trouble with. After all, this Duke ran six worlds in his Duchy where his word was law—what could cause him any troubles?
“Well, ITO, of course. We found her, tucked along the edge of the Nerian nebulae, in a pocket of old star matter and dust that hid her from mostly everyone else—including the damn Baron,” he said with what might be called steel in his voice. “Yes, Tanner, we found the planet. We approached them with standard first contact procedures too and quickly learned that the planet held not a sentient on it ... but that our sensors quickly detected large deposits of Lawrencium close to the surface. We began to arrange for colonists to go and to mine that rare earth metal for us, as I readied for our announcement of first claim to present to the Rim Council. But we were stymied by the Baron when he quickly noted that he already had established a colony on the other side of the globe about three weeks earlier than our own. It wasn’t true, we felt, but we couldn’t prove otherwise against their Adepts and colonists, so we lost out on one of the richest finds of Lawrencium anywhere out here on the Rim,” he said as he took a short swig from his glass.
Tanner nodded and took a minute sip from his own glass.
“I see, so it was a matter of a few weeks at best. Too bad, because as I understand it, the Lawrencium they have offered for assay has been high in percentages and quality too.” He shook his head, a world lost for a few weeks. He sipped his Scotch.
“Right again. The loss of riches, because we were unable to prove the Baron had lied,” the Duke said, tossing back another mouthful.
“Was that the only case where things didn’t go well?” he said.
“That’s the big one, course, there’s others too. Like we lost a whole ducal ship of colonists to the Pirates last month, passengers, crew, the works! Off Alex’in, skirting Pentyaan space, of course. She’d filled up on Skogg with big construction equipment and all, some drilling rigs and some ore moving equipment and then she was gone. 110 souls in total, and one of my father's original frigates too, the Priam—all lost—and so far, my Navy can not find a trace of them or her.” He shook his head.
“But until I know what happened, she’s not being claimed as lost nor the crew or colonists missing as yet. We’re still searching and we will find them soon ...” he said, his voice trailing off as he looked across the huge banquet room at nothing in particular.
Tanner nodded and swirled the liquid in his glass. More missing colonists and this time crew and ship as well. And nothing had been sent out to the rest of the Rim about this loss. The Duke had held this information very close to his chest, allowing no one to learn about this event.
Tanner nodded again and swept the glass up and the Scotch down his throat in an instant. Standing, he pitched the glass as far as he could toward the far wall and turned to the Duke as he heard the sounds of the smashed glass.
“Your Highness, permission to retire—I’m in need of rest, David,” he said slowly and succinctly. As he did, the Duke grinned up at him as he too rose and hurled his own glass after Tanner’s.
“Well done, Tanner. And yes, see you tomorrow,” he said and looked for the helping arms of two stewards that had suddenly appeared and began to slowly move him toward the inner chambers doors.
As Tanner strode down the long banquet hall, he had much to think about and pondered as he walked what had become of the Duke’s ship and its colonists and crew. A question he knew that would have an answer, just not one readily available.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Landers Station was what anyone with a sense of aesthetics would call ugly. As the low-orbit station that hung above ITO, she’d been built at the Barony’s shipbuilding yards on Neres almost three years ago. Moved here when the colony had registered with the Council only a few months ago, she’d been added to and then added to again. Wings of quarters and warehouses for materials angled off her like branches off a tree. In some areas, she was hundreds of feet thick with bulkheads and interior space, and in others, it was a spiderweb of single passageways and life-support plenums.
Much of the traffic to the station was incoming empty transports that we
re meant to pick up ore and ship it back to Neres for smelting and refining. As there was now a quarantine on the planet itself, those transports had stacked up awaiting the cargo pipeline to begin to flow again soon. Colonists also were held on the station awaiting tenders down to the planet when that quarantine was lifted, whenever that might be, as no one really knew, it seemed.
“At least that’s what their comm officer said, Sir,” Lieutenant Rizzo reported after chatting with Landers Station. He turned toward Tanner and had a questioning look on his face.
“Sir, shouldn’t they always know exactly when a quarantine is over?” he asked.
Tanner nodded.
“Yes, normally that’s true, Lieutenant. And especially for the Natrium Flu, as its length of incubation is well documented. But as I see here in the bulletins we received last night on our way in, the problem seems to be with the colonists themselves. Due to the heavy earth metals and their high concentrations near the surface, it seems to have somewhat changed the normal period of incubation for the influenza. Which means that they’re going on a case-by-case basis down there—which in turn means quarantine exists ‘til their medical staff can lift it. So until then, Landers Station is as close as anyone can get. Ansible back and let's see if we can get a berth or we’ll have to use ashuttle,” he said, and he turned back toward the front display with the station calmly positioned in front of them.
“Lieutenant Greeley, any idea on the number of those transports stacked up over there? Are there others we can’t see being held off somewhere else?” he said as he mentally counted the ore carriers he could see.
“Sir, there’s only fourteen there by sensor count. And I did a quick scour, and there’s no more to report being held anywhere else, Sir,” he added as he looked down at his display.
“Not a lot of transports for when the quarantine comes off, I think,” Tanner said, and he drank another swig of his coffee.