Hunter Legacy 5 Hail the Hero

by Timothy Ellis

  “Admiral Hunter please,” said Bigglesworth from his place beside the Queen. “Front and center.”

  I glared at him, feeling betrayed. Both he and the Queen were keeping their faces straight, but their eyes were gleaming.

  I hauled myself out of the chair once again, and hobbled over to stand before them. Bracing to attention wasn’t an option.

  “Admiral,” said Bigglesworth, “if you need your scooter or a chair, please let Colonel Jane know, and she’ll bring it to you.”

  I nodded.

  “Nice to see you on your feet Jon,” Queen Liz whispered to me. “You look a lot better than when I last saw you.”

  I nodded again, not game to say anything.

  “Admiral Hunter,” she said in her Queen’s voice. “You placed your life and assets on the line, in defense of the Monarchy and me personally, without being asked or ordered to. Your people have been thanked by a grateful Queen, planet, and sector. We are in your debt. How may we reward you?”

  For a moment I thought it was just a rhetorical question, but she stood there waiting for an answer.

  “Release me from service, so I can go home,” I said.

  “Done,” she said. “Admiral Hunter, you are placed on the inactive list, effective immediately. However this is not enough. Can you kneel?”

  “Kneel?” I parroted, feeling confused.

  “Kneel,” she repeated.

  Totally at a loss to understand why, I made an effort to go down on my right knee, trying to keep my left leg extended behind me so it wasn’t bent too much. I couldn’t hold it, and had to bend the left knee half as much as the right to keep from falling over. I wobbled, trying desperately to keep some balance, and had to place my right hand on the floor in front of me to stay upright. My left leg complained about its treatment, but didn’t feel to be taking damage.

  I raised my head as much as I could to see in front, but I could no longer see the Queen’s face.

  There was the noise of metal scraping on metal.

  “Jonathon Hunter,” she said, “I appoint you Knight Commander of the Order of the British Sector.”

  Metal touched me on each shoulder, and I saw the end of a very old sword flash though my limited vision range.

  Shock took my thoughts away. I desperately wanted to wake up now, as surely this was a bad dream having a go at me.

  “You may rise Knight Commander,” said Bigglesworth.

  I struggled to get up, but found I couldn’t. I pinged Bigglesworth for help. He reached a hand down and pulled me to my feet.

  I swayed precariously for a moment, but found some balance. He stepped back and left me standing there.

  My eyes opened wide as I saw not a medal, but what could only be called regalia, passed to the Queen, who seemed to cover me in it.

  I looked at her, my eyes pleading for this to be over. She grinned at me for just a second, and it was gone behind her Queen-on-duty face.

  “Sir Jonathon Hunter, we have one other presentation to make. The Dukedom of Norfolk is vacant, due to the unfortunate circumstances of the past few days. A family line which has faithfully served the Crown for hundreds of years, is ended by murder, treachery, and treason. As you have demonstrated all the traits needed to warrant your selection, we appoint you Duke of Norfolk. Congratulations.”

  Shock became poleaxed shock. I stood there, unable to move, unable to think, while more regalia was put on me, and the Queen handed me a plaque of patent. She held out her hand, and I reluctantly shook it.

  “I present to you,” she said to the room in her Queen’s voice, “His Grace, Sir Jonathon Hunter, Duke of Norfolk.”

  The room went crazy around me.

  Thirty Seven

  “So, how does this work?” I asked a short time later, sitting in the Queen’s sitting room.

  “How does what work?” she asked in return, apparently playing dumb.

  “This Duke thing?”

  Those present laughed. The Queen looked towards one of her aides.

  “A Dukedom is more of a ceremonial appointment than anything,” the aide said. “In the old days, a Duke was Lord of a Duchy, and ruled it as a vassal of the Crown. He taxed those who lived within the borders, and in turn paid tax to the State. As the Monarchy lost its powers, so did the Dukes. Most of them don’t have estates attached now. They represent the Crown for a specific area of influence, as do all titled Lords and Ladies. When the British sector was established, most of the Dukedoms were assigned planets of the same name. So the Duke of Norfolk, your good self, is the highest ranking Noble for the planet Norfolk.”

  “What duties are involved? I hadn’t planned on coming back anytime soon. So I’d rather not have duties requiring me here much, if at all.”

  “The Dukes advise the Crown about issues to do with their Dukedoms. They play a ceremonial role in the local parliaments. The Duke of Norfolk has always played a role on London as well. We see no problems associated with your not being here. There are other Dukes who will be delighted to take on the roles you aren’t here to perform. And on Norfolk, duties can be delegated to the local Earls, who’ll also be delighted.”

  “Sounds like it wasn’t a good decision to appoint me.”

  “The appointment,” said the Queen, “was my decision, and my choice. It has some downsides, but ultimately, the Crown needs loyalty and reliability close to it at the moment. I trust you. So do many others now. You’ll be called on periodically, but not for everyday matters which can be handled just as well by others.”

  “You will be sent information about your role in the British sector,” added the aide, “once it’s been finalized.”

  I nodded.

  “Besides Jon,” said the Queen, “you have title to systems now, and you need to consider how you run them. There are plenty of corporate owned systems, some even owned by individuals, but no-one else owns more than one. And all of them owe allegiance to a sector. Your space is unique. You’re already a Duke. If you call your space a Duchy, and run it as such, you’ll find yourself accepted far more readily than as someone setting themselves up as a King, or some sort of Despot. Think about it.”

  “I will. It’s all a complete shock to me.”

  “I know. We anticipated that. It’s who you are.”

  I waved away what I assumed was a compliment.

  “Your Battleship will be completed in the morning Admiral,” said Marshall Bigglesworth. “I think you’ll find your new title works in your favour as far as calming the fears of those who don’t like seeing real power in the hands of an unknown individual. Mercenaries were the way things went for good reasons at the time, but no-one really likes seeing a Mercenary company capable of being able to hold a planet for ransom, for example. It’s how pirates began. Mercenary companies becoming too powerful. If you set up a Duchy, having your own defense force is expected. But a powerful fleet in the hands of an individual, is something to make politicians nervous. Especially having a battle fleet. No-one can fault how you came by your fleet, but everyone will be happy when it has a defensive purpose, and constraints in place.”

  “To that end Your Grace,” said someone new, “we have documents here for you to consider.”

  “What sort?” I asked.

  “Non-aggression pact, and Alliance. Obviously these cannot be signed until your space has a structure, and a name.”

  I looked at him for a moment, wondering what I’d dropped into now. Diplomacy wasn’t my strong suit. It was looking like I’d need to have a crash course in it. Or find a good diplomat to hire.

  “Thank you, I’ll look at them on the trip home.”

  “I’ll pulse them to your aide. Once you agree to terms, we can arrange a signing ceremony at a convenient time and place.”

  “Does the ceremony need to be here?” I asked.

  “No Jon,” said the Queen. “We seek Alliance with you, so you can specify where the signing takes place.”

  “No doubt the Australian sector and Sci-Fi sector wil
l also wish the same Alliances,” said the official who’d first mentioned them.

  “Hmmm. Perhaps we could use my new station once its upgrade has been completed. That will be several months from now, so it gives time for due consideration. I’ll think about it and let you know.”

  “We look forward to it Jon,” said Queen Liz. She looked around the room. “Now, if you’ll all excuse us please.”

  The room emptied, leaving us alone.

  “Now Jon, follow me. Afternoon tea awaits us on my private balcony.”

  She led me upstairs and around into her private apartment. I scooted behind her through an ornate sitting room to, as she’d said, a balcony, overlooking a private garden. Here were two very comfortable chairs, with a small table between them. We sat, and a functionary offered us tea, and various kinds of cakes.

  I hadn’t had tea in years. In fact, I remember giving it up as a young teenager, when I figured out the reason I put so much sugar in it, was I didn’t really like the stuff. However, it wouldn’t be very diplomatic to refuse tea with the Queen. So I loaded in the sugar, and found the blend to be very enjoyable. The Brits really did know about tea. I’d have to think about importing some of the better blends.

  We said nothing for a while, while functionaries fussed around us. After a while, she went blank as if receiving a ping, after which she waved them away, and we were left alone.

  “I have two personal gifts for you Jon, a way of saying thank you for my life.”

  She held up her hand to silence me before I could say anything.

  “First of all, you sent me a belt which saved me first from injury when we were attacked, and then kept me alive when my own foolishness deprived us of air to breath. You prevented me from being taken, forced to disband the nobility, and abdicate. You kept me alive at serious risk to your own, even though you were barely able to take care of yourself. I owe you Jon.”

  I opened my mouth to say she didn’t. But she held her finger to my lips to silence me.

  “I do Jon. Stop being so selfless all the time. Anyway, my first gift to you is this.”

  She threw a feed to the wall behind us. I saw a shipyard, where the airlock doors were opening slowly. Once fully open, a ship emerged. It looked familiar.

  “Yes,” she said. “I’m giving you a new Gunbus. All your things from the old one which could be salvaged, have been put aboard. Including your kitten’s things, and the two figures on the control panel. It also has a set of butler droids, and two top of the line combat suits. By the way, before you go, I want to meet your kitten.”

  “As you command,” I said with a grin on my face.

  “Really?” she said with a grin. “Then follow me.”

  She led me back through the sitting room, hobbling not scooting, and into what must be her own bed chamber. It was so large, you couldn’t call it a bed room.

  “So,” she said with an impish expression. “Your second gift, is me!”

  My jaw dropped. She pushed me down into a chair, and proceeded to do a very sexy strip tease for me. I cancelled my arousal override. My suit changed shape slightly to compensate.

  When she stood naked in front of me, she pulled me out of the chair, and kissed me full on the mouth, her breasts pushed against my chest. The kiss lasted until we both gasped for air.

  “Now Your Grace, let me see how that suit comes off.”

  One does not say no to a Queen.

  Thirty Eight

  Precisely at seven that evening, I was guided into the main Dining Room, where I found the rest of my team already seated. I’d showered and been given a pain shot, which was somewhat late, given we’d not wanted to be disturbed for quite some time. I’d never experienced quite a mixture of pleasure and pain before. It was disturbing on one level, and enjoyable on another. Her Majesty had turned out to be a tiger in bed. Tigress in bed. Actually, bed hadn’t figured all that prominently, as we’d discovered ways of avoiding me bending my knees.

  I’d had a twinge of concern cross my thoughts at one point. I’d only just said goodbye to Miriam, and here I was in someone else’s bed. But Miriam had known she couldn’t hold on to me. Long distance relationships with no known next meeting point, were not likely to last. And after all, one didn’t say no to the Queen of the British sector. One said “Yes Ma’am”, and frequently.

  Amanda nudged her sister as I entered, who nudged Alison. They all looked at me as if I was the cat which ate the canary. I popped up a hollo mirror only I could see, in case there was obvious evidence showing of what I’d been up to for the last few hours. I was in Hunter Dress again, and my arousal override was back on. Hollo mirrors weren’t as good as regular ones, so there was nothing I could pinpoint, although I did seem to have a grin plastered on my face, and maybe that was enough for them to make assumptions.

  I took my place at the table, sending my scooter to a corner, and promptly had to rise again, when the Queen entered. Her eyes flicked to mine, momentarily. It was long enough for Aline to catch, and the other three caught her look.

  I wondered what all the fuss was about.

  Dinner was as good as the last one I’d had here. But this time I felt a good deal more comfortable. I chatted with those around me, and remembered nothing but the touch of a set of lips against mine, and several other things one doesn’t mention in polite company. Or in any company, if one wanted to keep one’s head on one’s shoulders.

  After dinner, coffees stretched out, and a sort of torture set in, being so close to her, and not being able to touch her once again.

  On the way back to BigMother, I was asked when we were leaving. I didn’t know, and told them it depended on when the Battleship came out of the shipyard, and how long it took Jane to figure out how to dock it with BigMother.

  I did tell them to be ready for a Royal inspection at ten in the morning. I didn’t tell them the whole reason was so Liz could meet Angel. I hadn’t asked why she hadn’t met her last time she was aboard, and while I was asleep. She wanted to come aboard, it was the reason given. If it wasn’t, I’d find out in due course.

  BigMother hadn’t re-docked with the station. As we flew past the front section, I noticed the docking clamps which had been cut off the station, were now gone. So she could now dock, but hadn’t. I guess my order to undock was still in effect. We were parked far enough away from the station not to interfere with ship movements, but close enough for short shuttle rides.

  I thought about that on the way down the lift. It might be a good idea to not dock BigMother in the future, or only dock long enough to unload and load, before undocking and orbiting further away. If the shit was going to hit the fan again sometime, I wanted my combat ships out where they could be most useful, not tied up at a station. Perhaps I could use Gunbus as an executive shuttle. Shuttle being the operative word. There was no way I wanted to go up against a Battleship again in something as small as a Corvette. Lesson learnt. Not only wasn’t I paranoid enough, even now, I seemed to be getting gung-ho as well. Stupidity kills on the battle field. It almost had.

  Back in my suite, I gave Angel some attention, and went to bed.

  I woke up alone the next morning. Even Angel was absent. By six fifteen, showered and kitten patted, I was in my Ready Room, reading emails. Rather surprisingly, I hadn’t needed a pain shot. The ache I knew all so well was there, but it wasn’t really outright pain anymore. My bruises were yellowing now.

  Amy had sent a copy of all the reports she’d filed with the media in the Australian sector. Me, big hero. Hero unavailable due to injury. Hero’s forces put down coup. Me getting knighted. Me getting Duke’d. It all came over like a bad soap opera.

  Then there were the stories coming from home. Surprise and happiness an Australian should be knighted and appointed as a Duke. Surprise and outright hatred an Australian should sell out to the British Monarchy. Shock that the Australian government had given away systems to an individual person, let alone a kid, especially when they’d refused the mining industry own
ership of Nexus since the sector was established. More shock over said kid having a battle fleet which could destroy the whole sector. Calls for the government to take back the systems. Calls for non-aggression and alliance treaties with the new mini-sector. Calls for close military ties to ensure the Australian sector’s security. Calls for the Prime Minister to resign.

  My eyes glazed over. I didn’t need other people’s drama. It’s why I pay no attention to the media at all. Never have, never intend to.

  Politics though, I was going to need to learn how to play that game. Oh joy.

  A headline caught my eye and stopped me completely.

  OUTBACK FILES TO JOIN HUNTER’S RUN.

  I pinged Amy to join me as fast as she could get up here.

  She came in five minutes later, looking like I’d roused her from sleep. It was a good look for her, but I doubt she would have agreed if I’d mentioned it. Which I didn’t.

  I threw the headline to the wall.

  “What is that?” I demanded.

  “What it says. Outback filed a petition yesterday to leave the Australian sector, so the system can join your new mini-sector. Outback’s status has always been something peculiar. They pay their sector tax, but have never participated in the sector government. They pay less tax than any other system, as they’ve never required anything from the sector. And as the first planet colonized in the sector, the sector constitution left them out of many things which bind the other systems. You should know all that.”

  “What the hell is Hunter’s Run?”

  She grinned at me.

  “It wasn’t me! Honest. Someone in the Sci-Fi sector wrote a story about your trip to Pompeii to rescue the team, and called it the fastest run through that section of space ever done. Someone else picked it up and called the stretch of space through Midnight and Bad Wolf, Hunter’s Run. When your ownership of the systems broke, everyone referred to the systems with the name. I think it stuck.”

  “Bollocks it has!”

  “Then you won’t want to hear the latest reference.”