Prison Planet (THE RIM CONFEDERACY Book 3) (24 page)

Tanner watched him go and turned to go back to the
Marwick
realizing that at the Duke's invitation, as if it were an invitation that could be refused, he would be drinking tonight. Again. It'd been almost twenty days since his last Scotch night out, and he knew that tonight he'd not be able to say no to a Duke.

Of course, he thought, if I am trying to find allies out here on the RIM, then the Duke would be one of the best to have. It appeared that their hunting trip of a couple of years ago had made that a reality. The evening would be good for his future.

As he thought that, he was reminded about his soon-to-be-made choice about what to do about the Barony captaincy offer—and that the Lady had said a couple of times that they didn't care if he did imbibe, as long as he did his job—captaining the newest fastest super-destroyer on the RIM.

That made him smile again as he stepped up on the bottom stair of the
Marwick
's escalator.
Scotch with a Duke. How bad could that be?

#

He struggled to roll over to the edge of his bunk and found he couldn't get there before his stomach churned again. He puked all over the edge of his bed, and some slurped over onto the floor. His eyes fluttered a few times and the ceiling above him, rivets, deck steel, and all came into focus. It hurt to focus, he realized, and then the retching started again.

The Scotch wasn't the problem as his liver was still working on oxidizing it, but it was those stupid shots of that damn liqueur from Bacu, one of the Duchy planets, that really was the problem. Bacu was a planet he had been told was the home of the gypsies of the RIM, and they had some of the most interesting food and booze items. “That didn't matter right now,” he said to himself and made the mistake of shaking his head.

The pain traveled all the way down his scalp from the top of his head along the back of his neck to curl around to his chest, and the resulting muscle spasm in his neck caused him to tilt his head backward so quickly he smacked it against the bare steel wall.

He knew this should have hurt more, but he was sure the pain would come soon, so he rolled off his bunk and fell to the floor.

“There,” he said to himself, “that has got to ...” It hurt so bad he had an idea he should call for help but moaned instead. And he moaned again, lying in the puke that had pieces of whatever they had dined on last night.

He knew to try to lie still. He knew to grit his teeth to wait while the pain lessened, and he knew that it would lessen too.

But it did not.

He ached, and ached, and wondered how the Duke felt this morning, but then he opened an eye and saw that the view-port was pitch black, so it was still nighttime and the eastern sky was only marginally lighter.

Still night. Still hurting. Still a sucker for Scotch ...

He moved a foot trying to find the bunk support. After a moment, he got his instep pushed up against the steel column and slowly pushed steadily against it, and that moved his body along the floor toward the bathroom door. But once his leg was outstretched, he lost the ability to push against anything else and had to lay there as the pain caught up to him.

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.