by Jim Rudnick
He caught his breath as the right shoulder blade under him began to throb, and he knew he'd done some damage to that area. While he couldn't tell just how bad it was, the pain was sharp, like a knife, and it stabbed him with every breath.
He gritted his teeth even more, rolled to one side, reached out with his left hand to grab the edge of the bathroom door jamb, and pulled himself in toward the toilet and the shower cabinet. He was able to roll over the lip and into the shower.
Forcing his good shoulder into the corner, he was able to reach up and turn on the water that began to rain down on him. It wasn't purely cold, but then again, it wasn't warm either. It felt good.
It made him forget his hurts for a bit though that right shoulder hurt like hell. He let it rain for almost a half an hour, and the hurt dulled and the pain ebbed.
He still couldn't remember much past those Bacu shots of something, and that bothered him as the blackout of memory always reminded him he'd had far too much.
He got to his knees first and the throbbing was added to the shoulder blade that was being stabbed, yet he continued to rise. He hung onto the soap dish handle and was thankful for the ship's designer for adding that touch. He wondered if that man drank Scotch too. Getting upright, he turned the water full cold for a moment, which woke him up completely. Then he went to a much warmer mix and enjoyed the way the heat chased the cold away, warmed him, and made the smaller hurts disappear. Showers were good, he thought and he almost smiled.
He slid across the short distance from the shower to the bathroom counter and looked at himself in the mirror.
Tired. Drawn. Skewed off to the right because of that shoulder blade injury. His body was wet and a bit wan.
Still, he'd lasted an evening with David—the Duke—his friend, and that was a good thing.
Now, just to get through the day. A hangover pill or three to start would be first as he looked for the phial and knew he'd better see about that shoulder.
#
Wading in the shallow waters of the bay, Nusayr was careful not to stub a toe on one of the larger rocks that seemed to always be in his way. Sandy beach or not, the sand seemed to peter out as you waded in and turned muddy when you got up to your waist deep in the slightly less blue waters of the Rasp River.
He studied the shoreline ahead for the mile or so over to the Power Plant and the way the beach slowly frittered out, getting thinner and thinner as the shoreline got steeper and steeper as the cone of the volcano grew.
Where the current from the river hit Max Island, right here on this beach, it would carry whatever had fallen into the river from miles upstream, and that included the farmlands that held the farm owned by Tibah.
"Anything, lads?" Nusayr said as he looked around to his crew who were also wading with him.
Out deeper, Razin nodded and said, "Just that couple so far, Nusayr," and he continued to wade, now almost chest deep.
Ilias, much out of his element, nodded.
"We wade and wade, but—wait, got one," he said and swept up a gourd with the telltale mango side and smiled as he whooped.
Beside him, Muhibb nodded, grabbed two more of the floating gourds, and gave a muted whoop.
"Gourd count," Nusayr said and he listened and nodded when the last of the eight sounded off.
"Okay, we've got fourteen so far, but there are more, we know," he said and they continued to wade along the shallow waters of the beach.
Sunlight poured down on them and the waters were cooling, Nusayr thought, but more importantly, the culmination of the work that he and his Council of Nine and his sister Tibah had done was coming to a head.
We've worked long and hard. We're going to be free soon ... and these gourds will be our key out of Halberd ...
#
Wearing his best and brightest dress grays, Tanner rode the escalator down from the Marwick and took the salute from his lieutenant at the bottom with a degree of exactness. He snapped back his salute and marched across the landing port tarmac but had to swing wide many times as the pads were filling up.
Ahead of him was a sphereship named the Kreis from Alex’n, and he wondered that it could even balance so perfectly, yet he knew after a tour of one a few years back, that it had huge gyroscopic controls that kept its 500-foot diameter always properly aligned. The Alex’n were known all across the RIM as being a major force to be considered, and the fact that these aliens had six arms reminded one and all they could do things no one else could. “Including,” Tanner said to himself, “running the RIM Council as the realm with the most planets.”
He shrugged and as he went around the sphereship, he was able to stride through the gap between three of the Caliphate ships that had just landed. He had to dodge some of the chandler dollies and Customs officers who were doing their duty. He knew that the Caliph was still in transit but would be here for the big party.
Beyond those ships was a Leudi ship being loaded with some kind of cargo and a Ttseen ship that was getting an anti-matter fill, and he stepped carefully over the cables and lines that were plugged into the ships.
A few more pads were empty, and he wondered just how many of them would stay so with the upcoming 100th Anniversary Celebrations coming up. He realized that he'd need to check with his XO to find out the final numbers.
Approaching the duty officer of the frigate the Sterling, he came to a full stop and saluted the lieutenant, who snapped to attention as well and returned the salute.
"Sir," Tanner said, "permission to come aboard at the invitation of the Lady St. August." He was making the choice he knew he would make and he was doing it right now.
"Sir, please take the ramp up and hit Deck Nineteen and then to port, Sir, to the conference room, 19-M, Sir," he said, made some kind of a note on his tablet, and Tanner took the escalator up. As he did, from the growing height off the tarmac, he could see there were at least twenty-five ships here for the event in a couple of days. He wondered which heads of state would still be on their way inbound, and he smiled when he realized that in a few days he wouldn't even care anymore about such things. One Royal, one life, came to mind, and he understood that meme now better than he ever had.
At Deck Nineteen, he turned to his left and followed the curved corridor around to room 19-M where as he suspected, an EliteGuard stood at ease, but as Tanner came into view, he snapped to attention too.
Pausing directly in front of the guard who looked right through him, he simply said, "May I enter, Sargent?" and then waited.
"Sir, as soon as the Lady admits you, Sir," he said and then continued to ignore Tanner.
Walking a bit around the curve to help kill time, Tanner saw the room that he and the Lady had that wonderful dinner in had its door open, so he peeked in and found it clean and spotless. Cooking pots and trays were all stacked up against one set of counters, and the stainless steel doors and panels of the cooking equipment were shiny and clean. Kitchen cloths were hanging to dry off a rack on the right-hand side, and there were empty bus pans all in rows too. Above the wooden butcher block station on overhead hanging racks, there was a display of clean and shiny pots of all sizes.
"Captain, what a nice surprise. Please have a seat," the Lady St. August said as she marched right by Tanner and moved a stool toward him. Wearing a matched set of some kind of leather pants and top in a shade of green he'd never seen before, she looked stunning. Tanner smiled at her and hoisted himself up on the stool.
"Ma’am, yes, I've come to see you about, well, about my future, Ma’am."
He looked directly into her blue eyes and noted that he had her attention.
But he couldn't sit, so he rose and faced her squarely.
"Ma’am—Lady St. August, I have been consumed by the kind offer that you have made to me—a captaincy in the Baronial Navy, and the helm of the new SupraClass Destroyer, and Ma’am, it's a job that I want. Ma’am," he said and almost saluted but held off on that.
She looked down at her hand and then back up at him.
>
"And I can tell you we're going to be glad to have you too, Captain. Consider this as your official commission—you are now a member of the Baronial Navy, Captain Scott."
She rose to come toward him, but he held up his hand to stop her.
"Ma’am, I do not want to leave the RIM Navy in the lurch, Ma’am—so may I ask that we keep this between just the two of us ‘til I can notify the admiral so as to not leave under bad auspices, Ma’am?" He wanted to make the break clean, but he knew he would need a few days to arrange his resignation of his commission, and he hoped that she would understand.
"May I ask, Captain, are you coming alone? Is there anyone else you might like to bring along with you?" she said and Tanner noted she evaded his request for some time, but he nodded all the same, his thumb toying with his side seam as he still was almost at attention.
"Ma’am, yes, my Adept officer, Lieutenant Bram Sander, would like to come along. His commission was up, um, four months ago, so he can resign as well. Would that be okay, Ma’am?" He wanted Bram along as he trusted the young man above all else on the Marwick except for his XO, and he knew in his heart that Templeton would never ever leave the RIM Navy.
"I believe that will be fine, Captain. You have been accepted and commissioned as a new captain, and yes, the lieutenant can also come along," she said and then she smiled at him with what he thought was a real smile and not the kind that a boss might give you as she sat again on the stool.
"But I will expect you to be on the payroll as of the day after the upcoming Anniversary event, do we agree, Captain?"
He nodded briskly.
"Ma’am, that is the best news. Ma’am," he said and came to attention and saluted her.
She nodded and then rose off her chair.
"Your new SupraClass ship is outbound to us and will arrive within the month, on Neres. So once this Anniversary event is over, I'll be leaving for home right after, so you can certainly ride along with the Sterling and then get all settled in on Neres ‘til it arrives. Oh, one more thing—the name of the new ship is under consideration by the Baroness herself, but if you have any ideas, we'd love to hear them too, Captain," she said as she went around him to the door of the room.
"Nice to see you again, Captain ..." she said and was then gone.
He'd done it. He had just made the deal with the Barony to come aboard and leave the RIM Navy, taking Bram with him.
As he retraced his steps back to the lift and then down the escalator to again cross the tarmac, he realized that for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel the need for a drink. That was a new thought, he realized as he strode along but then much in his life was new. Perhaps instead of a Scotch, he'd go down to the gym and see how much he could sweat ... doing everything he could to not think about that resignation EYES ONLY he'd be doing in a few days with the admiral.
That thought as it entered his brain made him suddenly want a Scotch, which he knew would help. He'd have to have a few of those before that confrontation, and he sighed as he stepped over the conduit cables that lay in his way and made his way back to the Marwick.
CHAPTER NINE
Rear Admiral Ethan Higgins was fit to be tied. Could no one follow standard operating procedures anymore?
"Sir," his aide said, scurrying back into the admiral's office up on Pike Station, "the dang Tillion ship with their leader, the Narrisol, won't take Pad Seventy-three because it's beside the ship from Skogg and they have female crew members ... so they're stuck in the queue, but that's not the big one, Sir.
“The Eran ship is in its down glide, but they have already announced that they will not accept accommodations in the Andros Hilton—because according to them, the size of everything has yet to be modified for their use, Sir. Hotel GM did say that, yes, they have made changes to the whole floor that the Erans have reserved, but that it's on the second floor, not up on the penthouse level. They are unable to modify the lifts that they have—they are of a fixed size, so the Erans would need to use the stairs and that's got them in a tizzy. Sir." He looked down again at the stack of paperwork he carried in one hand and his tablet in the other.
"ShitAss," the admiral said and leaned back in his chair.
He knew that having all the heads of state arrive so damn late would cause some issues, but the Tillions with their misogynistic tendencies meant that all the women on Halberd would be fair targets, as usual, he thought and sighed.
"Call landing pad administration and move them over to the far end of the tarmac, what, Pad Ninety-six, I think, is all alone against the far edge of the pads."
He swept his gaze over his aide and almost smiled.
"Hop to it, Petty Officer," he said and then picked up his PDA and called the Hilton to speak to the general manager.
After learning that the man was busy with trying to quell a small issue in the lobby with the Abstract cotillion that was refusing to check in without all their animals—pets, they called them—he was stuck dealing with hotel staff.
“Then you tell them that I expect the Erans to be accommodated and made happy. Today. And they'll be in your lobby within the hour," he barked out at the poor hotel staff member on the other end of the line, and he stabbed the off button to end his contact.
He rose then and went to look directly out at the curve of the station as it swung across the view-port.
With more than 400 crew and staff on Pike Station, one could literally live their whole lives here, he thought. We have living quarters, malls, recreational venues, and the best multi-planet cuisine on the RIM, but if there is one thing we do not have, it's a way off ... a way to go home.
He nodded at that thought even though he knew that he could simply book passage on the next RIM Navy ship outbound and he could go anywhere. So, he realized, could anyone here on Halberd except the convicts, of course. Best time to leave would be ... now, he thought and smiled to himself.
But few ever did leave, and he didn't know why that was either. The climate was moderate, and the planet hadn't had any kind of weather problem in recorded history. Jobs were plentiful as the prison system, which was the root reason for them all being here, had been in existence for over 100 years. The economy was always in an upswing, partially because the Andros council was always passing new zoning bylaws to allow expansion outward from the city. Farms were farmed, pods were made, and the power from the volcano went on forever.
He shrugged and noted that the cruiser from Lurdar had just sidled up to the edge of the station. He chuckled as he remembered the Lurdarians hated to land anywhere. They'd take the EL down as they always did. Way out, he saw a lit ship but couldn't tell which world it came from other than it was a destroyer, and he watched as she yawed to port and swung slowly toward the station.
The more the merrier, he thought and turned toward his petty officer who was hustling back into the office with more papers in his hand—more issues to be handled. He almost grinned and thought, tomorrow's Anniversary party had better be a good one ...
#
The Provost Guard was almost past his ability to hold it together, and he showed it to everyone who came near him at the supplier access entrance at the west side of the stadium. Coping was a skill that had value in his job, but this was just too much.
"Ma’am, Ma’am, I am sorry but you cannot just show up with thirteen dancers when you have only eight tickets," he said again in an exasperated voice. He held up his hand again, palm toward the woman who was obviously from Bacu. Her dress, hair, and jewelry screamed gypsy. and the girls around her were all giggling and jumping around, which had made it hard for the guard to have counted them.
"We were invited," she yelled at him and thrust a wad of papers at him but he ignored that ploy.
"Eight, Ma’am. When you come back to the line with only eight dancers, you can come in."
He closed his eyes as she screamed at him, but he opened them as her voice slowly diminished as she moved away, still yapping at him.
"Next,” he said a
nd then took a moment to smile as he knew the next group in the access line.
"Countess, how nice to see you again. Your papers, please?" he said and held out his hand to accept the sheaf of invites. Counting them, he noted the farmers in front of him were all coming in—fourteen of them anyways. He checked them off on his tablet and nodded as the Countess and her crew manhandled the dollies piled with cases of fresh fruits and vegetables and even moved the stanchion on one side to let a big dolly sidle by. He nodded and as he turned back to the next entrants, a bunch of buskers, and sighed, he felt a nudge on his left arm.
"Provost, here, Tibah says this is for you," a tall Nerian he'd just let in placed a fresh fancy—part strawberry, part kiwi into his hand, and he smiled back in thanks.
"Okay, buskers … one by one, invites, please?" he said and the first of them, some kind of a juggler, judging by the huge bag of balls and clubs, presented himself at the head of the queue. Better check that bag, he thought and dropped the fancy into his pocket as he reached for the bag. At least behind this lot, he could see some Altos from Randi, who only sang so wouldn't have much to check, but behind them, he could see some of those six-armed unicyclists from Randi, and his smile disappeared. He'd have to check each of those bikes.
As Tibah and her crew moved across the pavement to the tunnel from the back rear of the stadium, the dollies moved easily, but she knew that as soon as they cleared the stands in the west side end zone, the grass would bog them down … and moments later she was proved right.
"Faisal, we're going to have to hand-bomb these all out to our stall, Mari-ah, find out which one is ours, and we'll catch up," she said, grabbed a case of something, and led the way to the roped off Farmers Market with its 100 stalls. It took up the last thirty yards of the field at this end plus the end zone, and while corridors along the sidelines were maintained, the market space was large. It had interior aisles so the Celebration event goers could shop, and there were even a few sit-down patios for patrons to take it easy. The Market would be open all day and close just as the Celebration event speeches started at dusk, but until then the whole stadium was going to be a festival for all to attend, and many of the Andros citizens would do just that.