by Peter Kenson
Jeren gave her a fierce hug before turning to David. “I sent Baltur and Carl on ahead to the quarry. We’ll meet them there.”
At the quarry they worked quickly to roll out the shuttle and load some essential supplies: food for the journey and some general clothing that David had asked a seamstress to make for them, which would allow them to pass on most civilised worlds.
“That observation platform will be over the horizon in thirty minutes,” he told them. “We have to go now.”
“Are we going all the way in this… box?” Carl asked.
David shook his head with a smile. “No, it doesn’t have the range. I have a much larger ship hidden on the far side of one of the moons. We go that far in the shuttle and then transfer. You’ll have a lot more room to stretch your legs on the Salamander.”
The trip out to the moon took longer than normal because of the need to stay below the horizon, relative to the observation platform. As usual Jeren took the navigator’s seat while Baltur and Carl sat on the floor in the back.
The design of the Salamander was based on a type of small merchant ship equipped for one or two man operation and commonly used for the rapid transport of high value goods on short hops between the central systems of the empire. The version which David had commissioned, had been specially extended for longer range transits with additional power for the jump drive and upgraded accommodation for the crew and for occasional passengers. There were also one or two other refinements in terms of military communications, weapons and defence systems that were completely undetectable to a casual scan of the ship.
David brought the little smuggler’s craft into the Salamander’s main docking bay alongside a more conventional shuttle, and sealed the outer doors. They had to wait a few minutes for the hangar to re-pressurise before they could disembark and go through to the accommodation section. The ship was designed to carry eight passengers on short transits but David had the original aircraft seating ripped out and replaced with more comfortable lounge furniture, with the cargo pods on either side of the lounge converted into individual passenger cabins.
“Make yourselves comfortable,” he told them. “You’ll be in here for four days on the first leg of the trip. I’ll show you how to use the food and drink dispensers at the back of the lounge or there’s a small galley if you want to prepare your own food.”
“Can I see the bridge?” Jeren asked excitedly.
“Later,” David assured him. “I will give you all a tour of the ship when we’re underway but for now, I need to get us away from here without being detected.”
“And are we going straight to Ystradis?”
“Not directly. I have a supply of weapons on board but the only armour I have is tailored for me. It might fit you but it would be a stretch for Baltur, and no use at all for Carl. So we’re going to stop off on the way and pick some up before we go anywhere near a warzone.”
***
By the time Seb arrived at the Temple of the Holy Cross, the sun had indeed burned through the mist and the day had turned pleasantly warm. Sergio had hired a coach for the occasion and he and Seb stepped down to a smattering of applause and some cheers from the crowd gathered around the steps to the church. There were a few ribald comments reminding Seb which sword he was to use today, but the crowd was in good humour and they joined in the general laughter.
With a wave to the crowd, they climbed the steps and entered through the main doorway, to be greeted by a riot of floral colour and scent. It seemed to Seb as though all the gardens for leagues around, had been stripped of every available flower to decorate the church. The priest who was waiting for them, frowned at the swords that both men carried but wisely decided to keep his mouth closed on the subject.
They took their place at the front of the congregation as the church filled behind them. Count Leonid arrived and stopped to offer Seb his congratulations before seating himself in the family pew. There was a flurry of comments around the church as Maria arrived next with Semi and baby Vido, and settled themselves down to wait.
Teresa exercised the bride’s prerogative to be fashionably late but her own eagerness limited it to no more than a handful of minutes. The waiting crowd greeted the arrival of the bridal carriage with cheers that swelled, as Angelo handed her down, to a roar of approval that burst through the doors of the church like a storm.
Her gown was silver with a satiny sheen that shone in the sunlight and, like Seb’s doublet, was covered with diamonds, pearls and rich golden embroidery. Her arms and shoulders were bare but covered by a veil of sheerest lace that reached almost to her waist. Beneath the veil, the bodice was moulded to the curves of her body but the skirt was full and slashed to reveal an underskirt of golden silk. Isabella’s gown was made of the same golden silk and the two beauties drew many admiring comments from the crowd.
Teresa took Angelo’s arm as Isabella arranged the train behind her and they started to climb the steps. When they reached the huge double doors, the congregation rose to their feet and Seb and Sergio stepped forward to the altar rail. As he did so, Sergio felt someone behind him press a note into his hand. He looked round quickly to see one of the altar boys disappearing around the back of the choir stalls. No one else appeared to have noticed anything as all eyes were on the bride processing down the aisle. Taking advantage of the distraction, he unfolded the note and glanced at it.
“Warn the groom to take care when leaving” was all it said. The note was unsigned. He looked round again but could see nothing inside the church to cause any alarm. Tucking the note into his sleeve, he turned his attention back to the bridal party.
The wedding ceremony was performed by the patriarch of the Temple Order, a spritely octogenarian with a charming twinkle in his eye. Sensitive to the impatience of youth, he led them through the responses at a pace that guaranteed a toast in his honour at the wedding breakfast. When at last he told Seb that he may kiss the bride, he did so with a smile as broad as any in the church. Seb performed his first marital task with evident enthusiasm before they turned to face the congregation.
As they started to walk back down the aisle, Sergio followed close behind and offered his arm to Isabella. He scrutinised each row of faces as they passed and Isabella sensed his distraction.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“I don’t know,” he whispered back. “I was passed a note, warning that Seb was in danger as he leaves. If I have to move fast, can you look after Teresa and get her under cover?”
“Of course.”
They reached the doors of the temple without incident and the happy couple paused at the top of the steps to wave to the assembled crowd. Suddenly Sergio caught a glint of reflected light from a rooftop opposite and flung himself forward, knocking bride and groom to the side. He gave a grunt of pain as a crossbow bolt embedded itself in his shoulder and he collapsed on top of Seb.
It was Isabella who reacted first, pointing to the roof where the shot had come from and screaming “assassin” at the top of her voice. The crowd started milling around in surprise but the watch were there to keep order and the sergeant and two of his constables headed straight for the house. Angry shouts began to emerge from the crowd as it surged after the watch and poured into the side streets to surround the building.
Isabella knelt by Sergio’s side as he pushed himself up one-handed, into a sitting position.
“See to them,” he told her. “I’ll be fine.”
“Angelo and Maria have got them,” she replied. “I’m going to look after you.”
“Are they hurt?”
“Seb’s pride may be bruised but you’re the only one who took an injury. Now lie still and let me tend to it.”
“Dammit woman, I don’t need tending to. I’ve had worse than this before.”
“What you think you need and what is going to happen to you, are not necessarily the same thing. And that, Sergio Ramirez, is the last time you will ever swear at me.”
Sergio stared in astonishment at the beautiful woman kneeling in front of him, calmly ripping strips off her underskirt to pad the wound in his shoulder. He looked up in relief as Angelo came hurrying over. “Are they all right?”
“Teresa’s a bit shocked but Seb is with her,” Angelo replied. “They will come and thank you themselves in a minute but for now, let’s get you back to the house. I have already sent for a doctor.”
The celebrations for the wedding feast were a bit muted to begin with as guests arrived, still shocked by the events at the church. The attempted assassin had been caught, although the sergeant had considerable difficulty in keeping him alive in the face of the furious crowd. In the end, Count Leonid had sent a squad of his personal guard to take the man to the cells in the palace rather than the watch house. The man was saying nothing about who paid him, but the name of Cortes kept cropping up in the knots of conversation around the room.
The atmosphere lightened considerably and a cheer went up as Sergio came into the room, his shoulder heavily strapped, one arm in a sling and the other around the waist of the second most beautiful woman present. Seb and Teresa rushed over to greet him. Teresa kissed him on both cheeks while Seb tried to shake his hand which he seemed strangely reluctant to move from its current resting place.
“I think I owe you my life,” Seb said.
“And I owe you my future happiness,” Teresa added.
“Nonsense my dears. I’m just sorry I couldn’t give you any warning. Anyway, it all seems to have worked out quite well,” he said, looking at Isabella out of the corner of his eye.
Isabella carefully placed one foot on top of Sergio’s and applied pressure as she replied. “Don’t pay any attention to the man. He is in great pain. I think he will be suffering for weeks.”
“Ow! Seriously though, you need to take great care on this journey. I will speak to the captain of your escort before you leave tomorrow, and tell him to hire some more trusted men once you reach Kell. Cortes, or his son, will try again.”
Chapter 25 – Swordfish & Sarnak
The Swordfish eased slowly into position, halfway between Belsia and Ystradis but high above the plane of the ecliptic and at the maximum range of any of the scanning platforms. Mikael was certain that they were safe from electronic detection but, to be doubly sure, they took a bearing on each of the long range satellites and then reversed the bearing to look behind them and make sure they were not obscuring anything from the satellites point of view.
“Nothing on the threat board, sir,” Frank reported. “There are two frigates in a patrol pattern around Ystradis; the third one appears to be in transit back to Belsia but not with any indication of urgency. The other two frigates and the cruiser are in parking orbit around Belsia and appear to be stood down.”
“Nothing on the scanners?” Mikael asked.
“I picked up a very faint signal just as we arrived, sir,” Lt. van Gelst replied, “but it vanished straightaway and I can’t find it again now. It could have been just a blip in the system.”
“And if it wasn’t?”
“It could have been a very small ship, close in to Ystradis. Possibly on an approach run.”
“A small ship such as a smuggler might use?”
“If it was a ship, it would have been that sort of size, but I didn’t have the signal for long enough to run an ident check.”
“Keep one of the scanners trained on Ystradis. If it was a smuggler, it won’t be dirtside for long.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“All right, Number One. Secure from general quarters but maintain a full comms watch. Let me know if there’s any increase in signal traffic. You have the conn.”
Mikael left the bridge and headed for the sickbay to find Anton sitting disconsolately at his desk with a row of empty beds behind him.
“You look bored,” he said as he walked in.
“I am. Honestly Mikky, your crew is disturbingly healthy. So far this trip I’ve had a total of one sprained wrist to deal with.”
“I see. You want me to go and stir up some action so that you can have some casualties to patch up.”
“No, I didn’t say that. Not having casualties is good. But a little bit of action would be fun, just to break the monotony.”
“Tell you what I’ll do, Tony. I get Frank to run an Evacuation Drill; let’s say a hull breach and life support failure in one of the major compartments. That will exercise the damage control teams and send a few dummy patients down to sickbay. How does that suit?”
Anton’s face brightened. “It’s better than nothing. How soon can we do it?”
“I’ll organise it with Frank when I get back to the bridge,” Mikael laughed. “Now…”
Any further discussion was interrupted as Mikael’s communicator bleeped.
“Captain, go ahead.”
“Sir, we’ve picked up that signal again. It’s very faint but it’s definitely a small ship leaving Ystradis. Looks as though it has some stealth capability.”
“I’m on my way.”
Mikael had nearly reached the bridge when the call to general quarters sounded. He darted through the open hatchway and hurried across to the command station. “Report”
“New contact, sir. Suddenly appeared directly in the path of that little ship. We’re running it against the database now, but it has to be that Vostovian frigate again.”
“What’s the little ship doing?”
“She’s turned and she’s trying to run. She’s fast but so is that frigate. They’ll have her within minutes.”
“And the Belsi?”
“Doesn’t look as though they spotted the little ship at all, or at least, not until that frigate uncloaked. Then they reacted; the two patrol frigates have turned towards the chase and the frigate on its way to Belsia has reversed course. What do you want to do, sir?”
“Nothing. We’re here to observe; nothing more. Get the report of that frigate off to the Admiralty as soon as it’s confirmed and request instructions. But until we get further orders, we just sit and watch the show.”
***
“Wow, look at that!” Jeren exclaimed from the co-pilot’s seat as they approached the Arthrides system. David smiled at the reaction, identical to the one Rachel had given a few weeks earlier. The two red dwarfs together, did make a spectacular sight, he had to admit. He altered course towards Sarnak, or to where it would be by the time they got there.
They parked the Salamander in the orbit assigned to them by Spaceport Control and took the more conventional shuttle down to the surface. David had taken the precaution of planting ident chips in each of their wrists that showed them as authorised crew and they had no trouble with the landing authorities. They hired a ground car at the spaceport and headed into town through a deluge of torrential proportions.
“Is it always like this?” Jeren asked.
“In some places on the planet, the rain is pretty much continuous but not normally here in the city. We’re lucky today,” David replied.
“Lucky! How is this lucky?”
“The streets will smell better when we get out of the car.”
The downpour had eased by the time David pulled up outside a nondescript shopfront but there was a still a faint odour of decay in the air, as though there was something rotting away nearby. They squelched their way over to the shop and Jeren tried to peer in through the windows. The outside of the glass had been washed clean by the rain, but the inside was so filthy that he could see nothing of the interior.
As they opened the door, they were met by a security guard who was at least as big as Carl and wearing full body protection armour. A laser assault rifle was slung casually over one shoulder and a heavy duty pistol was strapped to his waist. He scanned each of them for concealed weapons before waving them on into the shop.
“At least we know he stocks something that’ll fit Carl,” David remarked.
A small, tubby little
man came hurrying forward to greet them. “G’day sirs. What can I do for you today?”
“I want some body armour for my crew,” David stated.
“Ah! Going somewhere hot, are we?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“No no. Quite so. Well you’ve come to the right place, sir. I have some excellent armour over here.”
The little man led the way over to some storage racks at the back of the shop. “I even have something that will fit your large friend here.”
David gave the racks a cursory glance. “I don’t want this trash. I want the good stuff. Imperial armour.”
The shopkeeper’s face fell and he looked anxiously around him, although there was nobody else in the shop but the security guard.
“Imperial armour is very difficult to get hold of,” he said nervously. “And very expensive. I’m not sure I have any in stock. It’s a specialist market, you see.”
“Don’t waste my time,” David snapped. “If I wasn’t in a hurry, I’d have gone directly to Balthazar but I don’t want to go all the way out there if I don’t have to. Now you do stock imperial armour; your security guard is wearing some. So fetch it out here and stop jerking me around.”
“Yessir,” the little man gulped and disappeared through a door at the back of the shop. Seconds later he reappeared pushing a large rack in front of him.
“These are the standard sizes, sir. If you would like to look through these while I go and check what I have in extra-large.”
By the time he returned, Jeren and Baltur were armoured from neck to toe and were trying out the mobility of the power assisted suits.
“You’re lucky,” the shopkeeper said. “I just have the one suit that will fit your large friend.”
“Wrong,” David told him. “Your security guard is the lucky one. He gets to keep his own armour. Now get me a set of squad helmets with integrated comms and tactical channels. I will link them to the command channel when we get back to the ship.”