Prison Planet (THE RIM CONFEDERACY Book 3) (21 page)

"Anything of interest, Captain?"

Reading the list, he said nothing but then held it out and pointed at the items, his finger scanning the list.

"Umm, okay, so, wait," the lieutenant said, "there is, what, more than a dozen and a half of those new palm Needlers gone. A couple—three actually—of those compact stunners too. Probably could'a hid them under your shirt and shoved the stunners down your pants," he said and sighed.

"Looks like they just grabbed what they could," the captain said as he turned to scan the street scape around them. He looked back one way and then the other.

"No cameras for video?" he asked and received the answering shake of the head from the lieutenant.

"No witnesses?"

Another shake of the head from the lieutenant.

"No cameras inside the shop?" he asked on the off chance the Ishtarians might have thought ahead, which gave him his third head shake.

"And so ... what to do?" he finished off and received a shrug in response.

He nodded and handed the list to the lieutenant.

"I'm done," he said, spun on his heel, and wheeled off, the robbery all history to him.

The lieutenant watched as the glaziers pushed the yellow tape out of their way and moved up to the window to take their measurements and fix the windows. He stood and watched for a bit and then caught the next LRT that went by, figuring whatever happened to the shop was karma and not his problem.

#

Knock! Knock!

More than a bit surprised, Tanner rolled off his bed and went to the door of his quarters. No one ever knocked, and the knock had been loud and strident. He pushed the open button, and as the door slid open, the almost blinding shine of the blue boots of the EliteGuard at his door made him wince.

"Sir," his steward said almost apologetically, "we had to admit this emissary from the Barony. My apologies, Captain," he said and almost winced and wouldn't meet Tanner's gaze.

The EliteGuard simply held out a blue envelope complete with the twin crowns of the Barony on the front, turned on his heel, and marched away to the lifts.

"Sir, can I—is there anything you'd like me to get for you?" the steward said and waited patiently.

"'Nother bottle is all," Tanner said and pushed the close button on his door, knowing the steward would be back in less than a minute. So he stood at the door, that envelope clutched in his sweaty hand, and the bottle was delivered with a new bucket of ice and a fresh plas-glass.

"Time for another, then the mystery envelope ..." he said, poured a stiff one, and slurped it down, realizing that he'd been hitting the bottle hard this afternoon, but not too hard, he rationalized, because he was off duty only until early tomorrow. He slouched back onto his bed, as it was the softest place to sit, and propped up a couple of pillows behind him as he looked at that envelope once more. Tearing just the corner off with his teeth, he blew into the envelope so that it swelled up, and he reached inside to take the folded letter from inside. Unfolding it, he had to use the back of his hand to sweep across his eyes once more to get them to focus well enough to read the letter.

It appeared to be an invitation to dinner to be held on the Sterling, with the Lady St. August
. No one else was named, nor was there any mention of why the dinner was to be held, nor mention of dress either. No real information, just a request to have him attend for dinner.

He smiled at first, figuring this might be her way of trying to get him to agree to join the Barony Navy, or, perhaps, to discuss the Barony offer and terms, or to get her Adept to read his own point of view on the matter. Perhaps she just wanted to spend some time with him, but that thought made him grimace, and he shook his head to dislodge that thought.

Most likely not that
, he surmised and then realized the requested dinner hour was in just three hours, and he had a bit of a load on. That meant he'd need to stop chugging the Scotch now, or soon at least, as he quaffed the slug in the plas-glass and reached for the bottle once more.

Figuring he might need a bit of help, he used his wrist PDA to summon his steward who let himself in and hustled away with a set of dress grays for a quick press and a request for more ice with the promise to come back one hour before Tanner would have to leave to walk over to the
Sterling
.

My steward is my lifeline, for sure, Tanner thought. Wish I could take him with me when I go.

The realization that the decision might have already been made scared him a touch, but then he shook that off and just blamed the Scotch, like always. He dozed and suddenly the steward was back, shaking him a bit and telling him there was barely an hour until that dinner, his dress grays were hanging on the chair, and he'd better get a move on.

Slowly showering a couple of minutes later, he let the lukewarm water wash over him while he wiped on and then washed off the facial depilatory. As he toweled off, he only stumbled once against the counter top and knew that jar would leave a bruise. He smiled to himself in the big mirror as he wiped the glass to see a bit better. Face shaved, check. Clean body, check. Hair combed, not yet. Teeth brushed, doing that now. A few minutes later, all the items for his personal toilet were done and complete, and he admitted standing naked in front of the mirror, for a Navy man in his late thirties, he looked pretty good. Hair still black with only the teeniest of a sprinkling of gray at his temples, his eyes that bright blue of the tropic seas, his chin strong with a cleft that dimpled it, and looking down, he could see he still could lose about five more pounds. That made him smile a bit more broadly—a solid navy man is how he felt.
Of course, whose Navy might also be an important question, and that made him laugh loudly.

Fetching some clean skivvies, he donned his dress grays and made sure the ribbons and badges were all straight and level. Wonder, though, he thought, if I should wear a sidearm? He moved to stand in front of his arms cabinet and decided he should wear one, so he picked his tried and true Navy issue Colt, from a line that went back almost a thousand years. The R1911 in the desert sand finish had been with him since his graduation from the Navy Academy inward in the Earldom of Kinross more than fifteen years ago. It had his name and graduation information on the one side, with the blued Nimschke engraving surrounding that personalization, and as usual with all Navy Colts, it held seven of the .45 rounds in the magazine and one in the chamber. Hefting it, he worked the action, checked the rounds, ejected and then re-inserted the magazine, and was happy as usual with the weapon. Projectile sidearms were generally frowned on on board a spaceship, but as the captain, few could complain and he liked that. Wonder what the rules might be over in the Barony Navy, he thought for a second as he strapped on the soft leather holster and seated the Colt with a degree of efficiency. Never used it to ever hurt a human or an alien either, he thought, and that was a good thing. Something so powerful would knock down anyone, even one of the natives of Eran, big as a house who had a real hatred of humans.

In the mirror on the back of the bathroom door, he presented well. Everything was straight, neat, and … wait, he thought, and he went back into the bathroom to rummage in his bathroom shelves. Yes, there it was. Grinning, he splashed a liberal dose of cologne—from Bottle, as he remembered, and he could still smell the scent of that leave from three years ago now and that made him grin even more.

He moved off the twenty-ninth deck onto the lift, and moments later, he was coming down the landing escalator to the tarmac. A distance away, on Pad Sixteen, sat the
Sterling
, and even from here, he could see a wad of EliteGuards hovering around their own escalator. Past them was a Leudi trader ship he didn't recognize and four Duchy ships too, and he wondered what they were doing on Halberd and made a quick PDA message to his XO to find out more. A few more ships were over against the far wall that was shared with the sub-station power plant and those he knew were from both Bacu and Elbo, as they were painted in their realm’s colors.

He ambled over but did check his PDA to make sure he was a bit early and eventually reached the
Sterling
.

Arriving and meeting the officer of the fay, he saluted and said, "Captain Tanner Scott, and I believe I'm expected, Major," to the ranking EliteGuard member who returned his salute.

"Captain, yes, we've been expecting you. However, before I can have you admitted, I would need to ask you if you'd like to check your weapon with us? Barony Navy rules, I'm afraid.”

And there it is, Tanner thought and smiled.

"The line here, Major, would be only out of my cold dead hand," he said, but without a smile and his tone and volume rose.

"Major, please inform the Lady that you have refused her dinner guest admittance to the
Sterling
, even though I am the acting head of the RIM Navy. And give her my regrets," he said, and he spun on his heel and strode off.

Behind him, he did hear some chattering, and he only got a dozen steps off when someone behind him shouted, "Sir, please?"

But he did not stop, and after a few more strides, he could hear someone behind him running him down, so he stopped and turned to face the EliteGuard lieutenant who caught up to him and was puffing slightly but remembered to salute him.

Tanner stared at the lieutenant and did not return the salute at first, and the lieutenant followed Navy custom and had to hold his salute frozen, which he did until a full minute later, Tanner snapped off his own salute, and they faced each other.

"Sir, sorry, there was no attempt to make you uneasy at all, just our own
Sterling
Navy custom is that, well, Sir, when you guard Royalty all day, you get used to forcing all armed men away from the Lady, but in your case, we'd like to 'bend' our rules. Sir. If you would care to come back, Sir, we can admit you, with your Colt on your side, Sir. If that's okay, Sir?" the lieutenant offered and then waited.

Tanner smiled at the lieutenant and said, "Shall we?" and they both went back to the bottom of the landing escalator for the
Sterling
. The major wouldn't even look at him, but Tanner smiled at all who did and then rode the escalator up behind the lieutenant whose job it appeared was to escort him to the dinner. Up they went, then down the landing deck to the lift, and all the way up to Deck Nineteen where the dinner would be held. Mentally, Tanner compared this standard frigate with the RN Kerry, his previous ship that was also a frigate and yet still so different.

Here, he was reminded a Royal owned the ship, as the finishes were so luxurious and posh yet in a refined sort of way. As he followed the lieutenant to starboard as they left the lift, the carpet was plush and the walls covered with small objets d'art, sculptures, and paintings. He recognized a beautiful wall carving of a Randi waterfall done in some kind of a wood and bronze mélange that he knew would be a year's pay for a captain like him. Rich is as rich does, and if the Barony thought that walking him down this corridor wouldn't make him up his price, they were wrong. Royalty, he thought and snorted. The lieutenant, who may have heard, didn't say a word.

At the doorway to one of the rooms that on the Kerry would have been a large conference room, the lieutenant knocked gently three times, then turned, and simply walked away, so Tanner just stood there.

Moments later, the door flew open and the Lady St. August stood there, grinning at him and motioning him to come in. In one hand, she held a sauté pan, and in the other, she held a knife that had a big glob of butter on it. She wheeled away from him to return inside, so he stepped in and stopped cold.

He was at the edge of what could only be a true gourmet kitchen, but that was not all he could see. There was a bank of stoves and grills and several more stainless steel appliances, all with a huge hood over the top. The Lady scurried behind a well-littered counter of some type of wooden block construction, and he could see bowls, ladles, and some kind of scaly looking crawling live foodstuffs too. On the counter was a propped-up tablet that had a movie running. Closer to him as he eased up to the edge of the counter was an upper-level dining bar that looked like it was set with only two place settings. Two wine glasses each, he saw, and that made him thirsty, but he just stared at the Lady.

Wearing an apron that had some stains on it, she looked, well, she looked pretty, he thought. He knew she had the normal beauty that went with Royalty, but now, the chef in her made her look, well, more human, he guessed. He smiled at her and pointed at one of the bar stools at the front, and she nodded as that glob of butter hit the hot sauté pan. She pointed to the bottles of wine standing at one side of the counter. He smiled and still having not spoken a word to each other, he went and got busy with the opening of a bottle. Red, full bodied, yes, there was one he knew from Quaran, and while their Chablis were the finest, this red, a Petite Verdot was an excellent choice. He opened it, poured, and then walked around the edge of the counter to put her glass close to her.

Smiling, she nodded and then hit the tablet to stop the movie. With a gloved hand, she lifted the lid of a huge Dutch oven on the stovetop, and he could hear the liquids inside it boiling away. Into that pot, she scooped up the various live crab-looking creatures and tossed them right into the mixture, and after a couple of more trips between the counter and the pot, she put the lid back on top and adjusted the gas flow to turn it down. She looked at Tanner then directly.

"I thought it time to meet socially, Captain—may I call you Tanner, please?" she said nicely.

"Of course, Ma’am," he said in return and held up his glass of wine to give her a toast.

She did the same but held up a single finger toward him to emphasize what she was about to say.

"Then, Tanner, please ... tonight and here, please call me Helena." She tossed off a big mouthful of the wine too, nodding to him at the smooth finish and the long-lasting fruit flavored bouquet.