by Peter Kenson
Star Base Runnymede was an artificial moon nearly five kilometres in diameter and the Admiral’s office was most of that distance from the Officers Mess. At regular intervals there were a series of moving walkways running from the perimeter in towards the centre of the base but, for anybody in a hurry, a one or two man scooter was by far the fastest option. Providing, of course, that one avoided the military traffic police who monitored the main thoroughfares.
At the centre of the Star Base was a shaft maintained at near zero gravity to facilitate vertical transfer to the various levels. The artificial gravity generators which maintained a uniform field throughout the base were situated at the bottom of this shaft. Shaping of the gravity field to restrict it to the sphere of the artificial moon was achieved by embedded interference generators between the inner and outer skins of the base; otherwise approaching spacecraft would be affected by the gravity field. The central shaft was likewise surrounded by interference generators to provide a null gravity environment.
Around this central shaft was the so-called racetrack where the network of moving walkways and the passageways used by the scooters and gravsleds, all terminated in a traffic cop's nightmare. From every tunnel, people were appearing, either on foot or on scooters, to dash around the racetrack and disappear down another tunnel. A proportion of them would make for the edge of the shaft, pause for a moment to align themselves with a tunnel mouth either above or below, and then launch themselves across the intervening space.
Anton skidded the scooter to a halt at the very edge of the zero-g field to allow his friend to dismount. Mikael took a deep breath to steady himself and then kicked upwards into the shaft.
The Space Admiral's office was on the second level from the top. Although there was no gravitational pull, there was still some drag caused by air resistance and it was not possible to travel the whole distance with one kick. Mikael had to land at an intermediate floor and re-launch himself several times to reach the second level. Down the passageway, he stopped outside the door to the outer office to check his uniform and his watch. It was one minute to nine.
The outer office was crowded with officers waiting to see the admiral and Mikael had to ease his way through the press of bodies. However, the grumbling at his progress quickly turned to smiles and handshakes as he was recognised. Officers he barely knew offered their congratulations and even the shapely lieutenant at the door to the inner office smiled as he approached.
“Lt. Cmdr. Boronin. You can go straight in. The admiral is expecting you.”
To Mikael’s great surprise as he walked in, Admiral Wei got to his feet and held out his hand.
“Congratulations, Boronin. I had no doubt that the court would reach the correct verdict but it’s always a relief when they do so.”
“Thank you, sir. I am very pleased that it’s over.”
“Yes, I’m sure you are. And I have some more good news for you. The Admiralty have confirmed the status of the freighter Monteparnassus as your prize. It should fetch a tidy sum at auction, even if it does need a bit of patching up. The prize money will be divided amongst the Cleopatra’s crew but the captain’s share is 25%. Along with the money for that smuggler you took a few months back, you’re now quite a wealthy man. So what are you going to do with yourself?”
“The Navy is still my life, sir. Now that I have some money, I do plan to get married. That is, I haven’t asked her yet but…” he tailed off.
“Hmph. Well, that particular lady is a prize of a different sort, Boronin. Make sure you don’t let her slip through your fingers.”
“I won’t, sir,” Mikael promised.
“Right, now that you’re restored to active duty, I have to decide what to do with you and your crew. That frigate you captured is still down at New London. The technicians have finished taking her to pieces and she’s being put back together as we speak. They claim to have fixed the problems with the stealth shielding as well. At least to the point of requiring space trials. As you and your crew already have some experience of handling that ship, what would you say if I offered her to you?”
“I’d jump at the chance, sir. She’s a fantastic little ship and I’d love to find out exactly what she’s capable of.”
“Hm. You have a nose for trouble, Boronin. So I suppose I’d better give you the best chance I can of getting out of whatever scrape you get into next. But I’m not having a damned frigate called Dominator under my command. The Admiralty agree and so, when she’s ready for space, she’ll be commissioned as His Imperial Majesty’s frigate Swordfish; the first of her class.”
“Swordfish! That’s a good name, sir. I like it.”
“Your likes do not really enter into it, Boronin, but your approval is noted. However, I cannot have a ship of that class captained by a lieutenant commander. Your promotion provisionally came through a few days ago but was held over, pending the outcome of the court martial. Congratulations, Commander Boronin.”
For the second time that morning, Mikael shook Admiral Wei’s hand.
“Thank you, sir. How soon can I get back to New London?”
“Not so fast, Commander. I have a lot of arrangements to make and you have a wedding to plan. Or had you forgotten that?”
“No, sir. It’s just that…”
“I know. If I was about to take command of a ship like that at your age, I’d be excited too. So let’s sort out some of the details. You’re going to need some more crew to replace the officers and men that were lost on the Cleopatra. And the Swordfish is going to need a higher complement of crew anyway.”
“If I may make a suggestion, sir.”
“Go ahead.”
“There was a young officer on the Dominator, a Lt. Freihaft, who was very useful to us in the attack on the freighter and on the way back to New London. Technically he is, or was, a citizen of the Empire rather than the Federation. I said I would speak to you about him.”
“I read your report… and your recommendation. You were impressed with him?”
“I think he’d make a very good Starfleet officer, sir.”
“Hm. That’s why I sent him for a full psych evaluation. I also ran a background check on those cousins of his on Timet. The psych evaluation came back clean; he has no adverse personality traits or particular attachment to the Federation. In fact they suspected there was some suppressed hostility there. They can’t give me any reason not to hire him. So you give me a reason why I should.”
“I lost my weapons officer in the assault on the Dominator so I need a replacement anyway. Lt. Freihaft is a specialist in that area. He not only knows the ship but he knows the modifications to the systems that we will be trialling and how to get the best out of them.”
“You realise that, even if the psych boys have declared him clean, he is still a potential risk to your command. If I put him aboard that ship, he will be your responsibility.”
“I accept that, sir. I don’t believe he will let me down.”
“Very well then. But I can’t commission him straight in as a lieutenant. He will be on the books as an ensign. Of course, once you have left space dock, if you see fit to make him acting lieutenant, that would be your prerogative.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Right, now before you put in your next request, I assume you’re going to need a surgeon.”
“Yes sir. Surgeon Commander Barasny was only attached to the Cleopatra on a temporary basis. While the Pushkin was undergoing a refit.”
“Yes well, the Pushkin’s refit is looking to be a little more extensive than we had originally hoped. So rather than have the damned man in and out of my office every other day, asking for a posting, I wonder if you’d be good enough to take him off my hands.”
Mikael fought to keep the smile off his face as he replied. “Well sir, the Swordfish doesn’t have anything like the same sickbay facilities as the Pushkin but I’m sure the surgeon could adapt.”
“Do him good to see h
ow the other half live,” the admiral growled. “Now then, let’s talk about your mission. It’s this new stealth shielding that I’m most concerned about. I want it tested in a near operational setting so I’m putting you in somewhere that might get a little warm.
“A lot of people are worried that the conflict between the Ystrad and the Belsi is going to escalate. I want you inside that system in full stealth mode, to monitor the situation. The Belsi don’t have much of a navy; half a dozen frigates and one capital ship that we know very little about. However, they’re obviously very nervous about this young queen so try to stay out of trouble while you’re gathering intelligence.
“We already know that the weapons systems work so keep your finger off the trigger while you’re in there. If you need to do any weapons training, draw another couple of target drones from stores and use them up in transit. I don’t want the Belsi claiming any sort of provocation in their home system.
“One final thing. We don’t know why or how Vostov got involved in all this but there seem to be an awful lot of freighters visiting the planet of Ystradis. We don’t know what they’re carrying but there is a resistance movement on the planet who might do. As with all resistance movements, they’re very difficult to contact but they are a telepathic race. So I’m going to authorise your young lady to accompany you. If she can make contact with the Ystrad on the surface, she may be able to give us a clue as to what’s going on. If you then identify the freighters involved, we can run a check on them here and, if any of them have a questionable history, I will arrange a stop and search. Any questions?”
“Only one, sir. What if there is an escalation of violence in the system?”
“Use your discretion. Officially we are neutral in this dispute but I know the Emperor takes a dim view of conflicts between member states. We may be called upon to perform some sort of policing role in the system but for now, I would prefer no-one to know you’re there.”
Chapter 12 - Marmoros
“She has to go,” David said. “You know that they will try again. They won’t care about her now. All they want is the baby. For her own sake, Yolanthe has to be far from here. For your sake and the safety of your throne, that baby has to be somewhere secure, where they will never find him.”
It was two weeks since the attack on the palace and David, Jeren and Falaise were huddled together in an alcove in the royal apartments. The last patrol had returned this morning and Ash had been forced to report that his scouts had lost the trail. The attackers inside the palace had all been killed but they had tracked the ones in the tunnels, back up into the hills. They followed them for days until another heavy snowfall had completely obliterated the tracks. Ash had split his scouts and sent them to circle around but there was too much snow. The trail had vanished.
“Is she able to travel yet?” Jeren asked.
“Yolanthe is strong,” Falaise replied. “At least as strong as Rachel and possibly more so. And the baby is healthy. Loud and lusty, I think my women reported him this morning. So yes, I think she should go sooner rather than later.”
“They’re both waiting outside,” David said. “Shall we bring them in and get started?”
He crossed the room and opened the door. In the antechamber, Seb and Yolanthe were sat looking slightly nervous, with two of Jorgen’s redcloaks in attendance.
“Seb, Yolanthe, won’t you come in please. You two,” he said addressing the redcloaks, “wait outside in the corridor. Nobody comes into the king’s apartments until I tell you otherwise.”
“Yes, milord.”
When they were all seated in the alcove, Jeren began. “Yolanthe, you look well but how do you feel in yourself?”
“I am recovering quickly thank you, your Majesty. I do still tire easily but that will pass.”
“And the baby? I think most of the palace can testify that he sounds healthy. Have you named him yet?”
“I’m sorry if he has disturbed your sleep, your Majesty,” Yolanthe smiled. “He can be quite demanding. And no, I have a name for him in my head but I will not use it until we are away from here.”
“I think that is very wise,” David said. “And we have to stop calling you Yolanthe. I have had some very skilful people draw up papers in the name of Isabella, Marchioness of Santa Monastral. Your husband the Marquess died six months ago and there was a disputed inheritance. You received a substantial settlement on the understanding that you would leave the family estates and move away.
“Seb is going to escort you to the city of Puerto Reis where I believe he has some personal business to attend to.”
Seb coloured furiously but said nothing.
“Once in Puerto Reis, he will introduce you to Master Angelo, a very well connected merchant who will help you find a property and establish yourself in the city. Seb will carry letters of introduction from King Jeren and from Josep and Agnes Benyahim, merchants here in Marmoros. Both of these letters must be burnt as soon as they have been read. Apart from Seb, the only person in Puerto Reis who will know your true identity will be Master Angelo.
“Puerto Reis is a long way from here across the sea. I believe that you and your son will be safe there and can make yourselves a new life. Master Angelo will be provided with a generous letter of credit on which you can draw for your living expenses, and will advise you on investing the balance of your capital to provide yourselves with an income.”
Yolanthe looked from David to Jeren and Falaise and to everyone’s great surprise, burst into tears. Falaise quickly went to kneel beside her and put an arm round her shoulders. “Yolanthe, or Isabella I should say, whatever is the matter?”
“Why are you all being so good to me? I was the wife of your greatest enemy.”
“Who is dead now. Should we blame you for marrying him? Does that make you our enemy?”
“Deribe is your enemy. She hates you. Mind, she hates me just as much. She was always jealous.”
“You are not Deribe,” David said gently. “You are a beautiful, intelligent woman and she is a witch. We treat people as we find them… and as they treat us.”
Yolanthe wiped away the tears with the sleeve of her gown and looked around the table. “Thank you. Thank all of you… not for my life but for the life of my son. I will never forget what you have done, are doing for us.”
“All right, now listen,” David said. “Nobody outside this room knows anything about this and that is the way it must stay. The problem we have is getting you away from here without anybody realising you’ve gone. If you leave here in a carriage, heading for Kell to find a ship, you will be tracked and intercepted before you get halfway. Even if we send an escort with you, we would have to leave you at the border of Keldis.
“So I am going to break all the rules and fly you to Puerto Reis.”
Yolanthe gave a little gasp of astonishment and even Seb sat back in surprise. “Fly? But how?”
“I have a special machine that will carry you there; you, the baby and Seb as well. It’s quite safe. Jeren and Falaise can tell you because they’ve already done it once. If you’re nervous, I can give you something to help you sleep and when you wake up you will be outside the walls of Puerto Reis.”
“I think I would rather stay awake, my lord,” Yolanthe replied.
“I agree,” Seb added. “I will need to be fully alert when we arrive. What will we do about horses? Hire them when we get there?”
David shook his head. “Isabella is a noble lady arriving from estates in the far northwest. We cannot have you walking into a livery stable on foot. It would cause too many questions about how you got there. And in any case, Isabella cannot be expected to ride into the city on horseback, carrying a two week old baby in her arms.
“So Jeren and Falaise have agreed to lend you the royal Lyenar coach. We’ve had to tone it down a bit; remove some of the excess gilt work and, of course, the coat of arms. But it should serve very well as a lady’s travelling carriage. Seb, you can t
ake your own riding horse with you but I’m afraid you’ll have to act as coachman until you can hire some servants.”
“We’d like the coach back at some point,” Jeren laughed. “Possibly when you bring your new bride to visit us, Seb.”
The colour rose in Seb’s cheeks again. “Of course,” he replied. “That is, if I’m allowed to return… and if she’ll have me.”
“She’d be a fool not to,” Falaise said. “You have more than proved your valour fighting alongside my son and you will always be welcome in Marmoros. In fact, I think Jeren has something for you which might help your decision.”
Jeren reached behind his chair and pulled out a bundle which he shook out on the table. It was a red cloak, richly embroidered with the insignia of a captain in the royal guard.
“This is yours whether you choose to return or not. We cannot have Lady Isabella arriving in Puerto Reis, escorted by a common mercenary. But I hope that you will return to take up the post that goes with the cloak.”
“I should be honoured to.”
“Right, then if that’s all settled,” David said briskly, “I suggest we go tonight.”
“So soon,” Yolanthe exclaimed. “I haven’t got anything packed.”
“Nor can you. I don’t want your servants to see you packing for a journey. When you have dismissed them for the night, you can throw a change of small clothes for yourself and the baby into a trunk. Everything else you will have to buy when you get there.”
“And my servants?”
“Will be given generous compensation and be assigned to other duties in the morning.”
Yolanthe nodded slowly. “I should like someone to speak to them on my behalf. To say that I was sorry not to be able to say goodbye in person and to thank them for me. They have served me well.”
“I will see to that myself,” Falaise said. “Rest assured, they will be looked after.”