Time Commander (The First Admiral Series) (27 page)

“
If I don’t come back from this, you go to my Private Quarters, you set the sphere against the screen of the monitor on my desk and move this switch from black to red; that unlocks the encryption on the file that holds my last will,” Billy told the half-truth.

Billy knew that there was no hidden file in the memory in his desk, and that the moment Lokkrien moved the switch to red, the Thought Thief would activate. Marrhus Lokkrien would feel a sharp, intense pain as the Mind Profile lanced directly into his brain. And then, all would become clear for the second incumbent of the role of First Admiral.

“Understood, sir.”

“
Well then, no point postponing the inevitable. Let’s get this show on the road as they say back on Earth...”

It was only a few steps to the Fleet Infantry Hover Bike that was set next to the main side hatch of The Black Rose. All the provisions and equipment that Billy was going to need for the two-day Contemplation were strapped against, or lodged on, the circular anti-gravity plate that provided the lift and momentum for the vehicle. There were packs and bales of all shapes and sizes crammed onto the Hover Bike. However, he did immediately recognise the shape of the Martini-Henry rifle that was latched onto a light blue bale. It struck Lokkrien as odd that here was a twentieth century human, wearing a nineteenth century human uniform, about to clamber onto a piece of technology that it would probably take the humans on planet Earth another two hundred years to develop.

Following the First Admiral, Lokkrien watched Billy clamber onto the Hover Bike as he hit the switch that opened the side hatch. The bright orange sunlight of Chronos; reflecting from the bluish-white sand, bathed the interior of the Black Rose with a sharply pale blue light that accentuated every shadow and detail in the vessel.

Setting the Fleet Infantry green safety helmet onto his head, Billy dropped the sunshade visor down to protect his eyes from the glare. Yet another detail that struck Lokkrien as odd: a Fleet Infantry helmet, and a nineteenth century uniform. With one deft push of a button, the anti-gravity generator aboard the Hover Bike whined gently into life, and the vehicle lifted a few centimetres from the deck surface.

“Ready to go?” Lokkrien called over the whine of the Hover-Bike.

Billy nodded, and held out his right hand to his friend.

“When you get back, I can call you “Your Imperial Majesty”!” Lokkrien grinned cheekily, shaking Billy’s hand, giving a mock bow.

“
You do that, and I’ll put you on a charge!” Billy winked.

The First Admiral then broke the handshake, and leapt the Hover Bike clear of the hatch of the Black Rose.

It was going to be the less-than-perfect end to a perfect evening for Elizabeth Caudwell.

The dinner at the hotel had been wonderful, and perhaps, if she were being honest with herself, she had drank a little more of that lovely red wine than had been good for her. However,  her mood could not have been better. Peter Lindstrom had been the perfect host and dinner companion. His choice of wine had been superb for the dishes that Elizabeth had been guided towards.

Avoid the fish
, he had advised, it was high summer in New York, and Peter Lindstrom had no trust for the vagaries of frozen fish.

Beef and pork were too heavy for Elizabeth Caudwell on such a hot, humid, and oppressive evening, so she elected to go for the chicken. Chicken Marengo, Peter had suggested, mentioning that it was the chef’s speciality. The chef at the hotel, having been informed by the Maitre D’ that the famous Missus Caudwell was dining in his restaurant, had strode proudly from the kitchen and taken her order personally.

It was a splendid main course, followed by Baked Alaska; another of the chef’s specialities, for dessert. Elizabeth was astonished that something that had a warm meringue coating could have a frozen ice-cream centre. The red wine had, however, taken its toll on Elizabeth, and feeling slightly dizzy, she made her apologies as she rose slightly unsteadily from the table. Like any good professional publisher, Peter Lindstrom had an eye for public relations, and what he did not need was for a possible new client, with huge money making potential, to be seen falling-down-drunk in a public restaurant.

Calmly, he took her by the arm and led her to the door through the sea of diners. Folding a fifty dollar bill into his right hand, he shook the Maitre D’s hand, and politely thanked him for a fabulous meal. Elizabeth had smiled and giggled like a naughty schoolgirl, but had retained enough composure to thank the Maitre D’, and to compliment the chef on a wonderful meal. The Maitre D’, wise in the ways of people, smiled politely and wished them both a good evening.

Slightly unsteadily on her feet, and being supported by the powerful arm of Peter Lindstrom, Elizabeth Caudwell found herself being guided back through the crowded lobby of the hotel, and back to the elevator. With three other people in the elevator, Elizabeth, still reeling from the effects of the potent red wine, stood in silence, gripping onto Peter Lindstrom’s arm. For the first time in so many years, Elizabeth Caudwell felt relaxed and comfortable with a man.

That was the problem with John Caudwell
, she considered as she stood and watched the numerals on the floor indicator slowly climbing until they reached her destination.

John Caudwell just didn’t know how to talk to her, and, although she had to admit to herself that she didn’t know how to talk to him either.

At her floor, Peter Lindstrom gently guided her towards her suite; away from the prying eyes of the other elevator passengers. As she walked arm in arm with Peter Lindstrom, Elizabeth Caudwell did not have a care in the world as she tottered along the corridor in her new red high heels.

For once, all of the stresses and strains of life with John, worrying about Billy and how she was going to finish off the latest chapter of her new book. All the worries and heartaches of the last few weeks, months and even years had flowed out of her this evening. She wanted to live simply for the moment. It was a beautiful evening, she had a handsome man escorting her, and the cares and worries of home life were on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.

“I think you’d best get some rest now, Missus Caudwell. Remember, you’ve got your book signing tomorrow morning.” Lindstrom helped her regain her balance as they arrived at her door.

Elizabeth, her head spinning from too much wine, didn’t want the evening to end. She had found an element of freedom in her life. Freedom from the mundane life she had back in Britain. She could be whoever she wanted to be here. She could do whatever she wanted to do. It was a different world and almost a different universe for Elizabeth Caudwell.

And, my, didn’t Peter Lindstrom look handsome in a dinner jacket
, she thought to herself.

“
Do I really have to?” She pouted and slid her arms around his neck, trying to put on her best mock disappointed expression to convince him otherwise.

“
Erm, yes, Missus Caudwell.” The clipped Ivy-League accent slipped for just a moment, as the shocked and embarrassed Peter Lindstrom gently tried to prise Elizabeth’s arms from around his neck.

“
Then, I’d best say goodnight, then.” She jubilantly smiled, rising onto her toes, and kissed him squarely on the mouth.

To Elizabeth Caudwell, kissing Peter Lindstrom seemed like the most natural thing in the world. As she kissed him, she noted that he was not exactly resisting. She could smell his aftershave, and feel the cool skin of his neck as she pressed her lips against his.

Oh yes, he’s a much better kisser than John
, she thought.

And, it was that thought of John Caudwell that caused her to break the embrace.

“Oh, my God!” She blankly stared at the dumbfounded Lindstrom. “I... I... I...” She tried to put her thoughts into words and failed dismally.

“
Yes…Missus Caudwell…Yes…we’d better say goodnight, then.” A blushing and astonished Lindstrom nodded, trying his best to avoid looking at her face.

“
Oh, Mister Lindstrom…I am so sorry...” Elizabeth began to feel her own face redden even deeper.

“
No need, Missus Caudwell...I’ll meet you for breakfast at eight o’clock tomorrow morning,” he hastily requested.

With a potential multi-million dollar book contract on the line, Peter Lindstrom knew that he would have to act as normally as possible, and do his best to pretend that the incident had never happened.

“Yes, eight o’clock.” Elizabeth smiled as best she could in her embarrassment, fishing in her handbag for the key to her suite whilst wishing the ground would open up beneath her and swallow her whole.

Without another word, Peter Lindstrom turned and hurried away from the situation.

“Oh dear God, what have you done, Elizabeth?” she asked herself.

Through the wine-hazed confusion, she realised that the next few days were going to be more than a little difficult. Peter Lindstrom was going to be at the book signing, the press conference, and everywhere else she was scheduled to appear.

Opening her door quickly, Elizabeth Caudwell bolted into the darkness of her suite and quickly closed the door behind her. Leaning back against the inside of the door, she closed her eyes and realised she was breathing very heavily and that her heart was hammering against her ribcage, as if trying to escape. The next few days were going to be very difficult indeed. Here she was, a married woman, with a family to consider, and she was running about like a lovesick schoolgirl. Somehow, she would just have to try to pretend that the whole thing hadn’t happened. Deep down in her soul, she knew that was going to be a lot harder than she could ever imagine.

Sitting on a large, white rock in the middle of a blue-white expanse of sand, Billy Caudwell watched one of the bright orange twin-suns of Ganthus drop slowly below the horizon. The last rays of the setting sun cast a deep red and orange glow across the cloudless sky, and Billy considered that the first day of The Contemplation was over.

There were only nine more hours to go before he faced the challenge of the Time Warrior ritual. The Ganthorans worked on the premise of a fourteen hour day. Unlike Earth, the day did not change in the middle of the night. It changed when the twin-suns had passed their peak in the day sky, which happened at mid-day.

It had been a pretty hectic and busy day, Billy considered, sitting on a gigantic rock, watching the dying rays of the sun streak the pale orange sky of Chronos.

It would be pitch-dark soon on Chronos, and the temperature would rapidly drop to minus six or seven degrees Celsius. So, Billy Caudwell decided wearily, he would have to set up camp for the night. Clambering reluctantly down from the rock in the great ocean of bluish-white, he felt his black one-piece knee length boots sink gently into the soft, gentle sand. He had been compelled to give up the Personal Environment Suit by the Time Warrior ritual’s rules, and now wore the dark green Fleet Infantry fatigues overall. In a few steps, he had reached the dark green Fleet Infantry Hover Bike, which was his only companion on this two day Contemplation.

The Hover Bike was not too different in construction to the motorcycles that darted around the roads of his home town back on Earth. Whilst the earth motorcycles had two wheels and a petrol driven engine, the Fleet Infantry Hover Bike had no wheels and was driven by a small proto-star power-pack. The shallow curving dish-like anti-gravity plate was two and a half metres in diameter, and drew power from the proto-star power-pack to generate an electro-magnetic field that levitated the Hover Bike and allowed it to move. With an operational ceiling of over one hundred metres and a top speed of over eight hundred kilometres per hour, Billy Caudwell suspected that there would be more than a few motorcycle enthusiasts back on Earth who would give their right arms, and more, for the chance to own one of these machines.

Parked beside the white rock in the middle of the bluish-white sand wilderness, the Hover Bike hummed softly as the anti-gravity plate held the vehicle a few centimetres above the soft, sinking ground. Night fell very quickly on Chronos, and with an absence of cloud cover, the temperature fell very rapidly. Billy knew he had less than thirty minutes to get his shelter constructed before hypothermia would begin to claim him.

Not that it would take him thirty minutes to construct his particular shelter. From one of the tough Fleet Infantry dark green hold-alls, Billy lifted out a large, heavy metallic spike. The spike, about thirty centimetres long and ten centimetres thick, had a broad, circular flat head; like a heavily weighted nail. Five centimetres from the top of the spike was a flashing blue pressure plate mechanism. Pacing around the Hover Bike, he took one pace beyond the machine and knelt down on the soft and pliant sand.

With a firm downwards movement of his arm, Billy drove the spike fifteen centimetres into the sand and touched the flashing pressure plate with his thumb. Instantly, there was a loud buzz, as a transparent dome-shaped force-shield canopy was deployed. The canopy, three metres high at the centre, spread around the central spike for a distance of four metres in every direction. When the canopy was activated, the flat head of the spike began to turn red as the small proto-star power-pack initiated the heat generation sequence.