I came prepared with a translation device and mechanically gave stock platitudes to the masses. A quick scan showed that the peasants or townspeople, or whatever they called the working classes around here, were better dressed than during my previous trip here. I made a mental note to keep my eyes open and see if trade and access to the basic manufacturing and colony supplies on Messene were actually starting to improve things here.
Akantha seemed to once again blossom at the adoration of crowd, walking into them and in that stiffly formal way of hers, placing a hand here or bestowing a smile there and pressing a few coins into a hand.
Eventually we had worked our way through the little crowd and a line of warriors still dressed in that strange armor of theirs. Just like last time, from torso up, the local guard looked like they could have come from any of a number of old earth medieval societies. Those chain mail mini-skirts they wore on the other hand were unique in my experience, and once again I was forced to bite back a laugh.
Kastor Kephus at the head of the welcoming honor guard was a semi-familiar sight. I’d only been here once but the former commander of the outer gate warriors was decked out in that same pebbled Stone Rhino armor.
As we arrived at the line of honor guards, our own power-armored Lancers trailing along behind us, I turned up the wattage on my smile while Akantha gave Kastor Kephus a regal nod followed by a small smile after he matched the gesture.
“Hold-Mistress Adonia Akantha Zosime, it is good to see you once again. Warlord and Protector of Messene Jason Montagne,” he said in an official sounding voice, which came through clearly even over the dry mechanical voice of my translator.
“Protector of Argos Kastor Kephus,” Akantha said sounding happy, “Messene extends its greetings and warmest regards to its Mother Polis in Argos.”
Kastor Kephus being Protector of Argos was new information to me and I raised an eyebrow. My understanding of native culture was sketchy at best. Partly by design, as I had little interest in getting sucked back into the hornet’s nest of local politics, and partly due to a lack of time. I’d been focused on saving multiple worlds and keeping the border of this sector of the Confederation from going up in flames.
I shot a glance at Akantha. From the look on her face, my Sword-Bearer was in no way surprised by this development.
“All of Argos is overjoyed at your success, Hold-Mistress Akantha. Their joy only tainted by the knowledge that your success in Messene decreases the chance their Land-Bride will return to them,” Kephus said cutting a half bow in that stiff, pebble skinned, creaking armor of his. The smile on his face I judged as genuine.
“Warlord,” he said, cutting his eyes over to me.
“Protector,” I pasted on a smile, wondering if for a Hold-Mistress a Protector was both Warrior and Husband, like with Akantha and myself, or if I’d somehow misunderstood things. These native customs were maddening, at least when you were trying to sift through them for meaning. But if my speculation was right, this might be the new father-in-law of Akantha. Her mother sure hadn’t wasted any time grieving over the loss of Akantha’s Uncle, but such was politics.
“I give thanks for the kind words,” Akantha said, a small hint of color blooming on her naturally pale cheeks.
I gave my girl a sharp look. Was she only happy at the words like she said or…I glanced back and forth between Akantha and Kastor suspiciously, before firmly reminding myself that the man was probably my mother-in-law’s next husband. Jealousy was not the hallmark of a man in command of himself and in control of the situation, I reminded myself.
“Please allow me and my men escort you to the Palace,” Kastor said, sounding just like what he was: a competent warrior fully in charge of both himself and the men around him.
“Certainly,” I cut in before Akantha could say anything and then motioned for our own men to fall in behind us. “If you would lead the way, we would be happy to follow.”
Akantha shot me look that was two parts puzzlement and one part irritation before turning back to Kastor with a gracious smile.
Kastor gave me a nod and Akantha a grave smile, one appropriate for an honor guard who might be her new father-in-law, and started barking orders to the native Argos honor guard.
While no one was looking I took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. I probably mis-stepped when I agreed to let him lead us to the palace. Must have been more off my game than I expected.
There were bound to be a few holdovers from the old regime under Hypatios Nykator, former Warlord, Protector and Uncle, and I was sure they would love to cause me no end of trouble if given half the chance. In Akantha’s culture it was probably expected that a man didn’t worry about insults and simply cut his foes down in the challenge ring if things got out of hand. I, however, had no interest in fighting a bunch of bloodthirsty natives with revenge on their mind.
Avoidance of blood and carnage was the watchword of today. A shadow moved across the street as we walked through the city. Glancing up at the sun, I winced as I watched a passing cloud and took in the position of the system primary. It was getting late. We’d spent more time in Messene than I’d expected, standing there holding hands and taking in all the improvements and activity in the new citadel.
I just hoped Akantha didn’t expect us to stay the night at her mother’s castle. My mind could all too easily imagine all the myriad ways the locals could try to put a spike in my Montagne wheel while I was out of my power armor and ensconced in bed with my lady love. Which instantly brought another worry. Akantha’s mother had seemed to approve of our liaison and Akantha taking me on as her Protector, but what if I was wrong? What if sleeping in the same room upset her somehow?
I started sweating bullets as every nightmare scenario my brain could come up with flitted across my mind’s eye.
Almost before I knew it we were through the main part of the city and standing at the main gates of the palace. The harsh stone exterior leading to an entrance filled with murder holes failed to improve my mood, but there was nothing for it. I couldn’t very well bail out now and return to the Clover.
There was also the small fact that with Bethany now on board the Flagship, that my every character flaw, failure and indiscretion would soon be known back home on Capria. I would be eviscerated by relatives in every conversation, with the juicier bits being inevitably relayed to the media for my public embarrassment.
I couldn’t help the whoosh of air that escaped me once we were past the murder holes and out of the kill corridor leading to the main hall.
Akantha shot me a look of concern. Perhaps she was afraid I was going to do something to embarrass her. “Do not shame me in front of my Mother, or I’ll gut you like a river fish,” Akantha hissed out of the side of her mouth.
I looked over at her tight features and glared. “You’ll try,” I muttered back.
Akantha’s nostrils flared, “You have to sleep sometime,” she threatened, her features icily perfect and composed.
I was about to reply with something appropriately scathing when we made our way into the Grand Hall.
Like before, the walls were covered with weapons, shields and tattered banners, some with old bloodstains that were never cleaned off them.
The milling crowd of courtiers from before was no longer milling. This time they all looked expectantly at us from the very first moment we entered the hall. The path down the center of the hall was clear, all the better to bring me to my waiting doom.
I gave myself a shake. I needed to get a grip and smile for the metaphorical cameras.
The same scheming old advisor as before was standing on the dais behind and to the side of Akantha’s mother, the Hold-Mistress of Argos. I think his name was Nazoraios and he reminded me of my Royal uncles, far more than was comfortable.
“Hold-Mistress Polymnia Sapphira Zosime greets her Daughter, the Hold-Mistress of newly re-settled Messene,” said Nazoraios with a sanctimonious tone in his voice I didn’t particularly care for.
Akantha surreptitiously kicked me in the foot, which meant the thunk of metal striking metal as our two power armored boots clanged together was very much audible.
I was upset at once again being forced to make things up as I went along, but I did my best to improvise. “Hold-Mistress Adonia Akantha Zosime greets her Mother the Hold-Mistress of Mighty Argos, whose name echoes even among the river between the stars,” I was trying to lay it on as thick as I could to make up for any mishaps I made along the way. On the outside I’m sure I looked cool, calm and collected but on the inside I was sweating bullets.
A glance over at Akantha’s face revealed I’d made a mistake somewhere along the way, but from her reaction it was only an irritating one. I didn’t think it was going to cause problems here and now.
“Akantha, my little thorn,” said her Mother rising from the imposing and elegantly carved wooden chair and coming down the steps, her arms raised as if for a hug.
“Polymnia, Mother,” Akantha replied with a sweet smile of happiness. I found myself wishing I had the ability to put that kind of pure joy on her face.
After their embrace Polymnia, Hold-Mistress and Mother-in-law, turned to me. I resisted the urge to gulp. She still looked like a person more suited to grace and fine music than a warrior, but I wasn’t about to underestimate anyone who was a product of this culture and able to survive for multiple decades as the leader of a city-state.
“Despite the fact that my little thorn is a grown woman and Hold-Mistress in her own right,” said Akantha’s mother with a warm smile, “I hope you won’t take it amiss when I say I’ve never seen her so happy.”
My eyes widened in surprise. I couldn’t help it; those words were so very unexpected. “Thank you, Hold-Mistress,” I managed to stammer formally.
“So proper,” she said, before lightly placing a hand on my shoulder. She dropped her voice and continued in a softer tone, “I also hope you don’t take it poorly when I say that should that light in her eyes ever wither and die, my own brave Kastor will be coming to pay you a visit, River of Stars or no,” she said with the same warm smile still on her face.
“I understand, my Lady,” I replied, my courtly training throwing out the wrong title for her in a moment of stress. And boy did I ever understand her. Not that this was entirely unexpected, but the way my mother-in-law managed to deliver a threat like that without blinking and acting as if we were just in the middle of a pleasant conversation. She played the musically inclined, slightly ethereal and partly not of this world Lady of the Realm very, very well.
She reached up and placed her hand on my cheek. “Such a good boy. I have no doubt you’ll make a fine Protector for my daughter,” she said giving me a second pat before turning, light on her feet as if a dancer, and with deceptive speed captured Akantha’s hands in her own.
“Come, it's been too long since we talked,” her mother said, sounding for all to hear as if she had not a care in the world.
I was not deceived. Especially not after her mother took Akantha away for a ‘private’ meeting and I was left in the Great Hall, surrounded by Argos courtiers.
Chapter 37: Scream Like an Eagle, Drop Like a Rock
Flying in diamond formation, the half dozen shuttles screamed through the atmosphere on a high speed orbital insertion.
“If we’re going to do this, we might as well get the benefits of a proper training exercise out of it,” growled Hansel.
“What was that, Sir,” yelled the shuttle pilot over the atmospheric turbulence.
“Steady on, Coxswain,” he yelled back sternly.
“Aye, Aye, Sir,” shouted the Coxswain before focusing back entirely on his task.
The six shuttles currently engaged in the combat drop insertion were a company and a half of the men he’d handpicked for this assignment. Each and every one of the men he’d ‘volunteered’ for this job was among the steadiest of his native compliment.
Hopefully that would be enough once the shuttles came down and they all got their blood up. It wasn’t going to be a pretty sight if he had to personally kick the butt of each and every one of his volunteers in order to keep them in line.
After all, he could only be in so many places at the same time. Who knew what kind of mischief the ones temporarily outside his reach could get themselves into while he was busy cracking heads together with the other half?
Lady Akantha had been careful up till now, not to put his oath of service to the Admiral in direct conflict with the duty he owed her as a newfound citizen of Messene, but that woman loved to ride right up along the ragged edge of it.
He used to think the tales his Grandfather told about Queen Abella before she settled down to service and the crown to be complete fabrications created specifically to get his goat. But after having to deal with the Admiral’s Lady, he wasn’t entirely sure his Grandpappy hadn’t been giving him the straight download from the get-go.
“We’re just about here, Colonel!” yelled Coxswain.
He would have clasped the shuttle pilot on the shoulder if he wasn’t wearing power armor; instead he gave the man a nod the pilot completely missed, as he was rightly focused on the task of not crashing the shuttle into the planet.
Staggering out of his chair and back into the hold containing his Lancers he activated his suit to suit comm. device.
“All right boys, listen up!” he barked over the channel, “The Lady gave this assignment to me, because she says I can do the job and get it done right. I’ve called on you blokes because I feel the same way about you, so don’t go making liars out of the both of us,” he paused.
“You can count on us, Sir,” growled one of his Caprian non-com’s, “we won’t let you down.” This assertion was quickly followed by a rumble of agreement from the rest of the men in the shuttle.
“Alright then, the lot of you seem to think that since you beat an outnumbered foe on the Imperial Cruiser and smashed a bunch of pirates and up-lifts that you’re pretty hot stuff,” he said in conversational voice.
There was an echoing silence. When he had first said things like that to the men, especially the Tracto-ans, they’d been full to overflowing with bravado and bluster, but now however they were somewhat more cautious. Not that it would save them now.
“That being the case,” he grinned, “you won’t mind qualifying on a piece of technology, so sturdy and reliable, not to mention durable, that my Grandpappy would’ve been proud to call it his own,” he said with a laugh.
“What in the World of Men,” muttered one of the Tracto Lancers over the open channel.
“We’re not on the World yet, boy, but we soon will be,” he roared, “I’ve told the shuttle pilots 'thanks, but no thanks' for his fancy taxi service down to the surface,” he said as the shuttle shook and lurched around them, “no need to strap on a Confederation-style gravity harness or fancy-pantsy Imperial grav-belt for stone cold killers like you lot. No Siree Bob, the Caprian full body gravity sled is more than adequate for our purposes.”
“What are you talking about,” muttered another native Lancer, “is this mission being aborted already?”
The Lancer Colonel signaled for the Shuttle pilot to cycle open the hatch at the back of the shuttle.
“World of Men,” cursed a number of Lancers, surprise and concern entering their voices.
“Get the emergency seal,” screamed another.
“Time to learn how to fly, boys!” hollered the Lancer Colonel, “that six foot metal surfboard behind your chairs is real simple to operate: once your arms are locked in, there’s no way it will release until you hit pay dirt!”
When no one moved to get out of their seats, Suffic first turned white, then red with rage.
“Did I just hand pick the yellowest bunch of bona fide cowards this World has ever seen, for a mission personally handed to me by the Hold Mistress of Messene herself!” he snarled, “or are you lot about to show this world you’re some of the meanest, baddest, most rootin'-tootin' killers this galaxy has ev
er seen!”
When this still didn't do the trick, he drew himself to his full height and stood unmoving on the turbulent deck, no easy feat during a fast approach like this.
“Anyone too chicken to leave the safety of these metal walls behind, just stay inside,” he snapped, grabbing hold of his own grav-sled and heading for the rear, symbolically turning his back on the lot of them, “you are free to go join the gunnery department when we get back. They like to fire their weapons from behind the safety of hull-strength battle armor, and are more than willing to take any dropouts who can’t hack it in the Lancer Contingent!”
So saying, he clamped his arms onto the grav-sled and using his power armor assisted strength, pushed through the wind turbulence and jumped out the back of the shuttle.
A few seconds later he started hearing shouts over his short range channel.
“Clover and Messene!” screamed a number of Lancers as they learned how to fly for the first time in their lives.
Suffic grinned as the only truth he'd ever known was proven by the rookies behind him: the only way to lead men like this was from the front.
Chapter 38: Separation Anxiety vs. The Circle
I waited while the vultures circled, reminding myself that these carrion eaters often confused themselves with raptors and were known to not wait until their prey was down before going in for the kill.
I maintained a haughty expression on my face. Surreptitiously I looked around for Kastor Kephus. Instead of his steadying presence, I found Nikomedes Minos, the former owner of the Minos Blade which was currently strapped to my back. I never let that sword far from my person when I was in potentially hostile territory.
I unintentionally caught his eye and Nikomedes turned to lock gazes with me. While cursing myself on the inside, I let a slow smile creep across my face.
Admiral's Gambit (A Spineward Sectors Novel:) Page 37