He Who Dares: Book Two (The Gray Chronicals 2) (8 page)

CHAPTER FOUR:

“Every time I turn around, the bloody Navy comes up with another load of shit not to do what they are told.”  He grouched.

“Yes, sir.  It would seem so.”  Gordon Atkins murmured.

“We have to get as many of those ships retired to the breakers yard as quickly as possible, and their crews on the beach.”

“Yes, sir.  The First Space Lord is doing his best, but going too fast could cause more trouble than we need right now.”

“Yes, I know.”  The PM sighed, eyeing his calendar.  If the promises he’d received were to be believed, the clock was ticking.  If he didn’t deliver what he’d promised, the question of his ‘advancement’ would be null and void.

“A rumor has come to our attention the Navy is building a new warship, sir.”

“How creditable are the rumors?”  The PM asked, looking up sharply at his secretary.

“At the moment, nothing more than a whisper.”

“We’ve heard these stories before.”

“Yes, sir.  The last time we managed to nip that little plan in the bud.”

“Yes, we can’t have the Royal Navy building new warships without the Government approval, now can we.”  He smiled slightly thinking of the last time the Royal Navy tried that when he was just a lowly MP.

“No, sir.  Wantonly spending public fund without prior approval of His Majesties Government is a serious matter and should be looked into immediately.”

“Yes, good idea.  Get in touch with the Inspector General’s office and have them put someone on investigating this rumor.  Do we know where this ship is being built?”

“Not yet, Mr. Prime Minister, but if it exists, we’ll find it, even if we have to search every shipyard on Earth, and in orbit.

“And if he or she should find something?”

“Then he, or she, has the authority to shut the project down and arrest anyone involved.”

“Including Naval Personnel?”

“Hell yes.  Throw them in jail for a while, or better still, go up the chain of command and prosecute anyone, and everyone involved.”  The PM snapped.  “Let's show those arrogant bastards just who the hell they are fucking with.”  The PM’s beefy face took on a reddish hue as he let his emotions get away with him, something he didn’t usually let happen.  He was an old political combatant and knew the value of holding onto his temper in the political arena.

This being his third term in office, he’d managed through a variety of dirty tricks to gut the loyal opposition to the point it was nothing but a shadow of its former glory.  Through a constant winnowing of his own party, he’d ensured his continued leadership by eliminating anyone who posed a threat to his position.  Gradually, all the social and political elements were coming into position for his final move, and he’d be damned if he’d let a bunch of jumped up toy soldiers and sailors were going to screw up his plans.  He would be the first President of the Republic of Earth, and send the English Monarchy into the trashcan of history, once and for all.

“How are our plans for nobberling the Royal Navy when the time comes?”  The PM looked across the room to the silent, nondescript man sitting on the other side of the room.  The PM Chief of security looked up from the report he was reading and gave the PM a tight, thinned lipped smile.

“The R & D weenies have completed the new operating system for all classes of ship.”  He straightened up in his chair and leaned forward.  “The new hard drive units are ready to ship on your orders, sir.”

“Have them shipped at once.  I want all RN ship to have them installed as soon as possible.”

“They might also serve as a deterrent if this rumor of a new ship is correct.”

“How so?”

“If they are building one, they will need an operating system for it.  As none of the current ships in service have the new systems, it would be a simple matter to send the trigger code on the RN communications frequency and disable the ship completely.  They would never get her off the ground, let alone into space with it installed.”

“Might be a bit premature, don’t you think?”

“No, sir.  Any ship that received the new system would simply think it’s just a computer glitch, at least that’s the way it's supposed to look.  Just a series of cascading problems with no central point of origin.  It’s only when we send the second priority code that the ship’s system shuts down completely.”

“Sounds like a plan.  Do it.”

“It’s already underway, sir.”

“Good.  The sooner we get control of the RN, the happier I’ll be.”

“That still leaves the question of what to do about the military, and especially the units such as the Royal Marines, SAS, Guards Units, and the Ghurkhas.”

“Yes, I know.  I’ve been reading your report, and it’s clear that our stalking horses aren’t doing too well on the recruiting side.”  The PM frowned at his security chief.

“Sadly no.”  He sighed, ignoring the PM’s dark look.  “There seems to be a streak of loyalty within those particular units to the King and the Royal family that surprises me.”

“Coming from the Republic of America, your association with Kings and Queens is a long time in the past, and like your forbearers did several hundred years ago, this country needs to get rid of all this bowing and scraping to a bunch of over weaned pompous assess that think they are better than the rest of us.”  The PM’s private secretary and his security chief sighed inwardly, knowing from experience when the PM was going to get on his soapbox and start pontificating.

“It’s time that the common man took his place at the helm of the ship of state and march shoulder to shoulder into a bright, happy future.  We can no longer afford to carry the so-called elite, self-aggrandizing pretentious upstarts who have the temerity to claim they are the ruling class…”

“Yes, sir.  We all understand that, and agree with you.”  Gordon Atkins cut in, hoping to quell the long-winded condemnation of anyone he thought was better than he was.  Thankfully, it worked, and the PM cut off in mid sentence.  The PM gave him a dark look.

“I’ll have you know that was a popular speech.”

“Yes, sir, I am aware of that, and it did go down well with the great unwashed and get you elected… again.”  He left unsaid that most of the educated majority had fled Earth for greener pasture on other Planets.   Those that were left were too old, sick, or stupid to leave in the first place.  The remainder would elect anyone who promised more handouts, unemployment benefits, or free anything.

“I feel it is my duty, even considering your opinion of the Royal Navy, to bring several disturbing items to your attention, sir.”  The PM took another sip of his brandy and waved for Gordon Atkins to carry on.

“We have numerous reports from the Department of Transportation concerning an inordinate number of bulk carriers vanishing into the ‘Rift’.”

“Do we now.  And pray tell me what we are supposed to do about it?” For a moment, he suspected he knew where the ships had vanished.  “Wait!  You said the ‘Rift’?”

“Yes, sir.  Several of the large interstellar shipping lines have filed reports of missing ships with the DOT.”

“But… but the ‘Rift’ is outside anyone’s territory.”

“No quite, sir.  It actually comes under, or is claimed by Avalon, sir.”

“Those damn people!”  The PM snapped, thinking of the last Governor he’d sent, who came back with his tail between his legs.  “Those stupid colonials and all crazy.  Good God, man, they ran the last Governor out at the point of a gun for Christ sake.” 

  “It could be they have turned their hand to piracy to help sustain their colony.  At least two ships were carrying colonist to a new planet in the Taurus System.”

“Colonist?”  He asked in surprise. “From where?”  Not that he cared, it just meant less mouths to feed.

“Actually, sir, they came from the British Isle, Germany, Australia, New Zealand, Canada,” he coughed, “Western Canada, that is, and South Africa.”

“That is odd… Western you say?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Humm, that meant no French Canadian’s”

“Yes, sir, you could interpret it that way.”

“What were the other ships carrying?”

“Their cargo manifest showed they were carrying agricultural equipment, industrial machinery, NC machine tools, and general cargo.”

“No exactly high value items, PM.”  The Security Chief put in.

“No, you’re right.  You expect pirates to hit high value inbound ships.”  Gordon Atkins murmured.

“How many ships are we talking about?”

“At least fifty-six at the last count.”

“Good God!  That many?  You think the shippers would stay clear of the area.”

“Difficult, sir.  The ‘Rift’ offers a short cut by jump gate to a vast network of shipping lanes.”

“Damn the man.  Why the hell did Max Tregallion have to stumble on such a potentially lucrative planet?”  He immediately waved his hand to stop his private secretary from answering.  “I know, I know.  Interstellar survey didn’t think it worthwhile at the time to investigate the ‘Rift’.”  He sighed.

“It does pose a problem for Earth shipper, what with Alpha Centauri firmly in the hand of the Sirriens.  It’s either pay the high tariff to transship through their jump points or risk going through the ‘Rift’.”

“Hopefully that will all change shortly.”  He looked meaningfully at the other two men for a moment.  “After that, I’m sure we can come to some mutually beneficial agreement with the Government, if you could call it that, on Avalon.”

“Yes, sir.  It’s not as if they have any Navy to speak of, more like a custom and planetary control system, like the coast guard.”

“It’s a pity we can’t send a naval unit to Avalon, to show the flag and all, and remind them they are a Crown Colony.”

“I’ll see what their Lordships at the Admiralty can do about that, sir.  I’m sure they have one or two ships that can travel that far without breaking down.”  He gave the PM a sly smile.

“See to it.”

“Remember, sir.  You have a 10 am meeting with the King tomorrow morning.”  The PM immediately pulled a face.

“I hate having to bow and scrape to that man!”  He snapped.  “The arrogant snot won’t even let me sit!  Damn it!”  His face reddened again thinking back to his last meeting with the King.

“I’ll like nothing better than to go up there with a squad of policemen and run the whole pack of them out of that Royal Apartment block they live in.  All at the taxpaying public's expense I might add.”  Gordon Atkins cut him off again before the PM started on another tirade again the Monarchy and all it stood for.  Even so, the thought of doing that did bring a smile to the PM’s face for a change.

CHAPTER FIVE:

The Princess Royal was smiling as well, the first time in many days, having just received a message from the Palace Traffic controller.  Mike was inbound to the Palace, and her stomach did a flip-flop.  She no longer mopped around the Buckingham Palace in moody silence, but rushed around her apartment, opening one draw after another searching for things to wear, and scattering a trail of clothing behind her like confetti.  Mary sighed, then smiled tolerantly as she started picking things up.  Her baby was growing up.  At least this was better than seeing her moping about and snapping everyone’s head off.  Gone was the ice-cold exterior, she’d carefully built up over the years, as one fortune seeker after another knocking on her door.   She’d quickly learned to see through the facade to the real person behind, finding them all lacking.  Mary despaired of her finding the right man, and wondered if she’d end up in some loveless marriage like so many Royals before her.  Now it seemed that she had found someone to match her own fiery temper, and control it.  At first, she hadn’t really approved of the young man.  Seeing him as nothing more than another fortune hunter, a colonial one to boot, but not anymore. He was the real thing, bold, dashing, strong, and compassionate.  If half the stories she had heard around the Palace about him were true, he was a young man going places.  If so, so much the better.  Mary knew something of what the Princess was up to, and knew she would need all the help she could get.