by CJ Williams
The second item is the earpiece. As you know, the implant that I provided at J99 gave you the same level-one authority as a First Family member. The new earpiece, which you just accepted, takes that a step further. For you to understand, I must give you some background.
In the event that the Bakkui, were to overthrow, or even exterminate the First Family, the king wanted his bloodline to survive.
This is one of the great secrets of my mission. Luke does not know, but the implant changed his DNA. His genetic code was modified to match that of the king’s children.
Unfortunately, I just learned from JF307 that a new and immediate threat to the First Family line has surfaced locally. I had no choice, therefore, but to use that same biological process on you.
This means that you are now the legitimate offspring of King Peyha. Your royal name is Princess Paeli Pokeuneo. I suggest that you arrange an audience with the planetary AI for additional information.
Finally, I am also leaving Teeny Jim in your care. I have noted how you cling to this toy so I hope it brings you comfort in the years ahead. As an additional safeguard, it also serves as a main power cutout switch for the new yacht; an ignition key of sorts. You can disable that feature if you so desire.
One other thing, just in case you travel to other Nobility worlds, this is how you access the royal treasury.
In closing the message, Sadie used a decidedly wry tone. Congratulations…Your Highness.
A set of account numbers appeared in Carrie’s mind, along with more information for establishing bank accounts on any Nobility planet. She put that material aside for the moment; she would review it in more detail at a later time.
For now, Carrie sat on the edge of her bed trying to absorb what she had just learned. Sadie had raised many more questions than she had answered. At the very least, the message did indeed sound like a final goodbye. Carrie had been nursing a forlorn hope that someday she would return.
Beyond that, Carrie harbored no feelings about the monarchy or their DNA one way or the other. Her personal feeling was, so what?
The main takeaway in all of this was that Sadie had given her the ability to create her own yacht. It meant her original mission was still possible. That goal had never left her mind, but after being abandoned on this world, the first thing she had to concentrate on was surviving in Nobility society.
She had done that. After the past few months, she was comfortable with daily life. She established a small business and every day she mixed with the population. With those skills in hand, it was time for the next step.
The question was how to get access to a large-scale replicator. Sadie said there wasn’t one on the planet and Carrie had confirmed that with her own research. That made things more difficult because it meant going off planet. She had been wondering if her access to funds would vanish if she left Japurnam Five. It was one of the fears that kept her from moving. With her new understanding of the royal banking system, that no longer appeared to be an issue.
Carrie scolded herself for being such a coward and not trying out the earpiece earlier. If she had, she could have hired Germander’s ship and already gotten past the blockade. She needed to hire someone to take her to a planet where they had replicator technology. In spite of all the bar talk about how expensive it was to run a blockade, Carrie didn’t care about the cost. She was on the king’s business. Once she had a yacht, she could head to Cerava Four and find the princess.
That must be what Sadie had in mind. Their original goal was to find the princess for background information about the Bakkui. But if that was the only goal, she could have done that with just the banking information. So why the upgrade to her implant? Sadie said there was an immediate threat to the Royal line. Was Carrie supposed to do something about that? It didn’t make sense. And her Nobility name was Princess Paeli Pokeuneo? It sounded more like a game app for a cell phone back on Earth.
Perhaps the new implant meant she had access to additional resources. But that didn’t compute either; Carrie was supposed to keep herself hidden. It’s not like she was going to announce herself to the local constabulary as a surprise princess.
In any case, it was time to reshuffle her mental to-do list. At the moment, she was feeling overwhelmed. She wanted to let all the information percolate in her mind. Any decisions could wait for tomorrow.
*.*.*.*
The following morning was the barmaid’s day off so Carrie kept busy getting ready to open. It meant a quick trip to the market for bakery products.
Japurnam five didn’t have an equivalent for peanuts but Carrie’s introduction of salted pretzels had proven to be a big hit. She was rarely given credit for her many innovations. Customers chalked it up to her luck in finding a location near the spaceport. Off-world captains were known to be an inventive lot.
Carrie just smiled at such remarks. She didn’t advertise that her pub’s location had not been driven by the real estate market. From the start, she wanted to attract local starship captains as regular customers, but not for their ideas about running a bar.
In spite of the embargo, there was plenty of traffic. Smuggling was another universal skill. She found that pilots were generally above average in intelligence and kept their eyes open. Selling alcohol to starship crews meant it didn’t take long for her to develop a better-than-average understanding about the local political and bureaucratic environment. It helped her avoid potential landmines while integrating into the society.
As the noon hour approached her regulars began drifting in. Today, the topic of conversation was all about the royalty. A normally quiet man named Monmoth started the discussion by slapping the local paper on his table. “Here it is,” he declared. “It says that King Peyha really is dead.”
His tablemate was unimpressed. “I don’t call that news,” he said. “How long since anyone’s seen him.”
“Well, it’s official,” Monmoth declared. “Now Prince Jinbo can ascend to the throne.”
“It was official years ago,” another man argued. “I’d like to know why hasn’t Jinbo already moved up. Why the delay? Not knowing is what causes all these idiot conspiracy theories.”
And that, of course, was when Julep came in. “They’re not theories, you fool! When will you open your eyes? One morning you’ll wake up and everything you own will be gone. I’m telling you, King Kkoli is behind this. He’s in league with Princess Gimi and it has to stop!”
Carrie groaned silently. It was going to be a long day. There were endless theories as to the whys and wherefores of royal succession. The most reasonable of these, and the one generally accepted, was that the royal family had a mandatory waiting time. But the truth was nobody cared. Why should they? As long as the AIs still functioned and the economy operated smoothly, people’s lives went on as before.
“Give it time,” a voice called out. “Eventually a decree will come down and hail our new king, Jinbo the First. He’ll become the supreme leader of the First Family and then what do you think will happen?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Monmoth answered loudly, eliciting a roomful of shouted agreements.
Carrie was grateful that Monmoth tried to put the matter to rest but Julep would not let it go. Throughout the afternoon he kept her customers stirred up.
One interesting aspect was that Prince Jinbo was not perceived to be as capable as his father. The underlying concern was that Jinbo would fall under the sway of King Kkoli, father-in-law of Jinbo’s younger sister, Princess Soultang. King Kkoli was feared, if not despised, by the general public.
There were other theories, of course; mostly it was just gossip. The juiciest concerned Princess Soultang, who had long ago married Prince Rakkaie, son of King Kkoli. The marriage was an acknowledged effort to bind the two leading families together. The gossip rags said it wasn’t working out.
The elements for intrigue were all there; a missing king, a soured romance, and an uncertain succession meant that rumors ran wild.
Each story in
turn sparked hundreds more:
Jinbo was dead.
He wasn’t dead but in hiding with Princess Soultang.
Jinbo was fine; someone saw him last week and Kkoli was in jail.
And those were just the most reasonable ideas.
The only aspect that interested Carrie in the long list of who-begat-who was that she liked the name Soultang. On Earth, a woman with a name like that would have moved to Nashville and leveraged it into a fortune in country western music.
After listening to months of royal gossip, Carrie knew more than she wanted. When the occasional senior bureaucrat wandered in, Carrie would probe their minds; she had learned how to do so discreetly. What she found usually verified the gossip. But no one knew anything about Princess Gimi’s status.
By closing time Carrie had heard nothing new except more of Julep’s convoluted theories. She crossed her fingers that tomorrow a new headline would ignite a different thread of conversation; one that wasn’t about royalty. It didn’t really matter what the topic was, it seemed to Carrie that Teeny Jim’s was a veritable clearing house for the latest scandals.
But now, with her new implant, perhaps Carrie could find out the real scoop. After all, Sadie had encouraged her to seek out the planetary AI.
Carrie waited until after-hours when she was alone in her room above the bar. JF307, can I set up an appointment to see you? Carrie had heard there were research rooms at the local library where a person could talk directly and in private to the planetary AI.
Affirmative, the AI responded instantly. What time would be convenient for you? He sounded a bit eager and it gave Carrie the willies.
Maybe this wasn’t the time to dig in to the royal family. But then again, when was it going to get any better? The bottom line for Carrie was she needed information. Royal problems, whatever they were, had nothing to do with defeating the Bakkui. Still…
I’ll get back to you on that, she told the AI. In spite of her own desire to hurry, she felt better by avoiding the bureaucracy for the time being. She went to bed thinking the last thing she wanted was another run-in with that captain from the secret police.
*.*.*.*
The next morning Carrie had been open only a few minutes when Germander shuffled in to lean against her bar.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, surprised by his appearance.
“The fool chickened out after all. What a mess! He wants a refund on his deposit too, but that’s not in the cards, I can promise you that.”
“Tell me what happened,” Carrie said sympathetically, setting a cool mug of beer in front of the frazzled blockade runner.
He looked at her with raised eyebrows, an unspoken question in his expression.
She laughed at his woebegone face. “Yes, we’ll consider that a free round for your return…even though you never left.”
“You’re a beautiful woman, Tolliver,” he said earnestly and downed the beer in one long draught. “I’m afraid that for me now, coins are going to be far and few between.”
Carrie refilled his mug from the tap. “Then here’s one more for luck.”
He chuckled but pulled out his purse. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m not a pauper quite yet.” He put a blue coin on the bar. “But I’ll take full measure for this.”
“So what did happen? I’m interested.”
“Just what I said,” Germander complained. “We were serviced and ready to load his cargo, but his merchant friends had filled his head with nonsense. What if he got caught? What about his family, his business? Well, what did he think, anyway? Blockade running is no picnic. But those friends are his competitors as well. I could smell something was wrong because he was late to show up. He finally arrived last night, sniveling like a rat.”
Carrie was sympathetic. “Maybe you’re better off,” she suggested. “You wouldn’t want to be on a long voyage with someone like that in any event.”
Germander groaned in misery before continuing. “Thank the Royal Blood we hadn’t already loaded his cargo. We would have had a dustup then, I can tell you. There were strong enough words as it was. He wanted a refund, as I said, but I sent him off with a curse instead.”
“Is he going to cause a problem for you?” Carrie asked. “What if he reports you?”
“He’d be turning himself in as well.”
“Don’t be stubborn, Germander. Haven’t you ever heard of the friend-of-a-friend-of-his-brother’s-uncle? I imagine more than one coward has gotten revenge through rumor or innuendo.”
The smuggler suddenly looked worried. “Could he be that foolish? I’ve friends enough around here who’d pay him back for such a betrayal.”
Carrie shook her head. “Never mind. Perhaps fortune smiles on us both. I’ve come to a decision of my own. Does this mean you’re available for hire?”
Germander snorted in surprise. “For you? My love, do you think a trip off planet is like going to the market? I wasn’t joking when I said blockade running is expensive. I suggest you spend whatever coins you’re saving on some more of these fancy wooden mugs. Or hire another barmaid. One with bigger…you know.”
Carrie rolled her eyes. Another universal male trait. “You stupid oaf. Do you think I’m just a pretty face? Why wouldn’t you imagine someone like me has a nest egg tucked away? Or two? What’s it cost? Tell me straight. If I can’t afford it, you can drink all night on the house.”
Germander gave her a suspicious stare, as though trying to decide if she was pulling his leg or not. His face grew serious. “I won’t even talk to someone without twenty-five thousand up front. That’s what I’m keeping from the idiot yesterday. It’s ten times that to just lift off.”
Carrie felt the trace of a probe from the man, something he had never done in her presence. It was one of the reasons she liked Germander. Most patrons, especially after having one too many, probed her or the barmaid, wondering if other, more personal services might be for sale. Rather than let Germander see anything at all, she erected a steel wall in her mind. Something stronger than he had ever known. She smiled at him like a cat smiles at a cornered mouse and a bit of doubt crept into his eyes.
JF307, transfer five hundred thousand credits into Pilot Germander’s account and let him know.
Germander jerked when the message came. He looked at her, aghast. She hoped she hadn’t scared him off. “Do we have a deal?” she asked.
He gazed at her for a full minute and then downed his second drink and took his coin back. “When do you want to leave?” he asked.
“I’m ready,” Carrie replied.
“I need some time,” he said.
It was reasonable considering the sudden turn of events. “How much time?” she asked.
“Three days,” he decided. “I have to convert my accounts to hard goods. I won’t be back here anytime soon, if ever.”
“What should I do?”
“Just be ready. If things go quickly, I’ll come sooner.”
Before she could respond a familiar troop of uniformed men barged into her pub. They bashed open the swinging saloon doors hard enough to leave marks on the plaster where they banged against the walls. It was the same group of secret police from a few days ago.
Captain Bimil casually pushed Germander aside. “Witnesses put you at the market square two days ago, Tolliver,” the Captain accused her without preamble.
“I’m at the market several times a week, Captain. I was there this morning to buy fresh bread. Were your men wanting a sandwich?”
“You were with Teacher Haadeu!” He made it an accusation, not a question.
“I told you he was giving me implant training. We talked about this the other day.”
“You will accompany me to the Municipal Hall.” The captain nodded at two of his men. They hurried toward the end of the bar. One of them roughly pushed her barmaid aside.
That was unnecessary, she thought. Carrie focused on the men and shoved. They tripped over their feet and tumbled to the floor.
&nb
sp; The captain’s eyes narrowed and she felt his mental thrust coming. She set up a mind barrier to block the attack. His assault was like a child tapping on the door to a bank vault. She wondered if he was holding back.
It occurred to her she should not return the attack in kind. He was a bully, willing to beat up on the helpless, yet the thought of hurting him in return was repugnant.
Mentally she calculated how to strike without permanently injuring the man. These were questions and techniques she would have preferred to go over in an academic setting. It was tough to make the decisions in the middle of battle.
The question suddenly became moot. With the Captain focused on her, Germander picked up one of the bar tables to bring it crashing down on the man’s shoulders. The captain’s last two men were fumbling for their holsters. Carrie didn’t want Germander getting involved and possibly injured or arrested. She still needed him.
“All right, all right!” she shouted, gesturing Germander to back away. “You’re tearing up my pub. Let’s go already.” She hauled the two guards behind her counter to their feet. They were embarrassed and made sounds about having “tripped.” By the time they reached the police captain, she was shepherding them more than they were dragging her.
Her other patrons scrambled for the exit. They had no wish to be in the vicinity of a battle with the secret police lest they be swept up in the follow-on investigation.
Germander was looking at her, astonishment in his face. She shook her head at him almost imperceptibly and nodded at her barmaid. “Take care of her,” she mouthed.
She stopped in front of the captain and straightened the front of his tunic as though a mother would for a toddler. “Let’s go, Captain Bimil, before anyone gets hurt.”
She marched out the door, forcing her captors to hurry and catch up.
Chapter 8 – Bloodline