Prison Planet (THE RIM CONFEDERACY Book 3) (11 page)

He eased his lips with a touch of Scotch and realized that he’d told himself earlier that this was it. He’d taken his officers out for the evening under orders and had meant then that this was his last time to ever have a drink.

Back on Juno at Navy Hall, Admiral McQueen had told him that either he beat the alcohol on Halberd or he’d be cashiered out of the Navy. Here, the rear admiral had embarrassed him greatly by bringing up that same story in front of some of his men, and he meant it too.

Wish there was a simple pill to take to get Scotch to lose its hold on me, Tanner thought and shook his head. But there wasn’t. We have FTL, we have mind readers, but not a simple pill to get away from the addiction that alcohol could have on anyone ... on me. He waved once more to the barman, who moved down the bar, reached to the back bar for a bottle, and poured another double in the same glass. He looked at Tanner and then shrugged and left the bottle on the bar.

Earlier in another lifetime, inwards in the Earldom, a mistake he’d made in the assault on an alien invader had caused his ship then to crash into a friendly and had killed hundreds and hundreds of the Earldom’s Navy men. That, he well knew, was the start of his reliance on Scotch for help, to get over the feelings of being the captain who had murdered crewman and had lived.

Guilt he supposed could do that. Guilt stared him in the face with every new crewman who faced him, from ensigns to privates, from lieutenants to the ship’s Provost Guard. He wondered if they thought he would sacrifice them to save the mission and himself. He wondered as he sipped.

Bram said quietly, “Sir, permission to speak?” and stood rock still at Tanner’s elbow.

Tanner nodded.

“You think that others under you back in the Earldom worried because you might need to make a decision only a captain can make—and it might cost them their lives. Is that it, Captain? Because that’s totally missing what is true here—that is that each of us Navy men sign up for the duty, and that means that we know that our lives are at risk at all times, Captain.” He smiled at Tanner and laid his hand on his shoulder.

“Sir, you should know that didn’t happen. That not a single Navy man in anyone’s Navy would feel like that. Course then you can always remember that your assault on that alien ship, even though it cost you crewmen, killed the alien vessel, and is that not what your captain’s mission called for? Success, Sir. Yes, at a cost ... but such is how that battle went. Sir,” he said one more time and then turned to walk back to the XO who was now arm wrestling one of the girls and losing.

Across the bar against the far wall, a group of citizens was sitting, and it took him a moment to realize they must be Caliphatians, as they were extremely tall in their chairs around the big table. As he watched them for a moment talking, partying, and conversing, he noted that one of them stared back at him. From across the room, he could see the violet of her eyes. Certainly, an attractive woman the Countess was, and he thought further about getting up and going over but realized that he’d most likely just mess that up. He hoisted his glass to her instead, got a small smile back to acknowledge his toast, and realized that would have to do.

Tanner sat and let that thought percolate in his brain for a minute or two, and the grudgingly honest reaction he got was that Bram was most likely correct. Navy is as Navy does, and that is how it went for everyone from the lowest private to the captain.

He tossed the dregs of his drink down, looked at the bottle, and then pushed it away. Calling the barman over, he settled his tab for the foursome and then went to gather them up to go back to the
Marwick
. The XO wanted to stay to wrestle the girl from Thrones that Tanner thought he was sweet on, but looking at his captain, he simply sent her his
Marwick
contact information via his PDA. He bumped his PDA into hers to transfer the content and stood up to walk out with the group.

“Captain, that was a wonderful intro to Halberd,” Ensign Radisson said as he slowly walked off the sidewalk and almost into the path of a yellow pod that was zipping by, but Bram grabbed him and then pointed back toward the center of the sidewalk.

They walked together slowly on the almost empty street down to the south end and back through the entrance gate to the
Marwick
to sleep it off until tomorrow.

#

Lying abed, Nusayr glanced at the time display on his night table and saw that he still had more than an hour to await the alarm. Quarters here in the Royal enclave on Max Island were fair. He had his stewards and full privileges as well as a private chef and servers too. With Ansible plugged right into his desk out in the living area, he was actually comfortable, though he’d admit lonely. Still, it had been a calculated risk and one that he’d only lost by a hair. If only, he thought as he remembered back to the day he’d received the Farmers Guild ultimatum on Olbia months ago.

“Majesty, the guild members are all here and assembled as per your instructions in the large conference room up on the fourth floor. They ... well, they appear to be relatively calm,” the Ramat colonel said with not a single inflection in his voice.

Tall for an Olbian, he towered over the squad behind him, all spit and polished in their brown-suited uniforms with knee-high glistening boots. He waited and eventually Nusayr looked at him.

“Thank you, Colonel. I’ll be going up in a few minutes, just waiting for the damn printer to catch up,” he said as he looked at the offending machine tucked on his credenza behind the desk. It sat quietly, then suddenly powered up, and spit out a few more pages, which he added to the pile in front of him. he stapled them all together into a single stack.

Nodding to the colonel, who had been standing at attention all this time, he rose and followed his lead out the door and down the long hall to the stairs. Moving up the bank of stairs, he thought about taking them two at a time, but he decided this kind of a display might send the wrong message to his guards, so he went up in sync, boots loud on each step. Again, they marched down the hallway up on four, and at the doorway to the large conference room, the squad halted while Nusayr entered, and then they followed him to take up picket duty stations around the room.

And what a room it was, with its large table that would seat up to forty people, comfortable, big, well-padded chairs that were each set with desk pads, note-taking stationery, and styluses. Ewers of water and soft drinks were on trays spotted around the table, and there was a sideboard against the far wall with coffee urns and pastries. Nusayr nodded to himself. The setup for this meeting was well done, and he’d have to thank his Parliamentary secretary for knowing exactly what to provide.

Too bad, he thought as he made his way to the head of the table to take his seat, that the Guild members are not as impressed as I am. He didn’t acknowledge the stares of frank distrust and almost but not quite over rudeness, but then that was to be expected. He looked to his right and then left to acknowledge the other members of the Olbia Council of Nine, and then he looked down the long table to the far end and his foe for this meeting, the head of the Farmers Guild and his minions who were mostly simple yes-men. Let the games begin, he thought as he tapped his stylus against the already poured glass of spring water that sat in front of him. Not as good as a real gavel, but this wasn’t going to be a real meeting.

“Tawhid el-Karimi, you have requested this meeting with the Council of Nine, and I should start this meeting with the caution that this is an unusual circumstance, so we did grant this. One time. There will be no more of these ad hoc meetings, Chairman, do you understand?” Nusayr said with a no-nonsense tone in his voice.

At the far end of the table, the Chairman of the Guild nodded but said nothing. His face was lined, and it appeared that he had had little sleep in the past few nights. He ran a handful of fingers through his thick salt-and-pepper hair and then wiped his hand on the desk pad in front of him. Nusayr thought the man was surely tired, as the past few weeks had been anything but un-stressful for him and his millions of workers.

“So, Chairman, the floor is yours—why have you asked for this meeting?” Nusayr said, knowing the answer already, of course.

The Chairman looked down at the file in front of him but didn’t open it at all. Instead, he looked to his right, out of the large windows and down onto the Farmers Market that lay below. Evidence of that large uprising of students more than a month ago had been cleaned up, and while the Ramat still patrolled the Square in its entirety, the University still seethed as did the press.

“We have some issues, Majesty,” he said quietly and ignored the big head nods from some of the other members of his party at the table.

“We realize that the recent uprising of the students and their supporters had to be quelled, but we also feel that the—um, the level that was used was ‘beyond the pale’ as they say. There were deaths. There were many injured who still are hospitalized. There were mass expulsions. And the press on this has been brutal—blaming not the Ramat,” he said as he cast a glance at the colonel who was standing a few feet away at attention.

He paused and seemed to gather himself.

“But, Majesty, what this has done is to polarize the Guild. We lost loved ones. We have had sons and daughters come home in tears, their lives and futures destroyed. We have been to funerals, and more, Majesty, and I can tell you we will not live with this. Majesty,” he finished and unconsciously wiped a drop of sweat from his brow.

He stared down at the desk pad in front of him. He doesn’t want to look at me, Nusayr thought as he waited to see if the man would go on. But he didn’t, so he looked down at the stack of documents that lay in front of him.

“Chairman, we are lucky in that the head of our Ramat—the planetary head—is right here at this table. General Shihah, it appears that the Chairman and some of his advisers, it appears, have some issues with your stopping of the recent uprising in the Square. Shihah?” he said and turned to the brown-uniformed man at the table.

“Majesty, the uprising was both unexpected and sudden, and as we all know, it was led by university students who were going to run amok in our Farmers Market. We called an immediate alarm, got our troops to quell these terrorists, and put it down with no more violence than what we received at their hands. Yes, there were some unexpected deaths, and yes, we sent hundreds to the hospitals, but we also know that by responding with a higher level of violence than what we received, we will have prevented any further actions like what happened that day, Majesty,” he said quietly and turned to look directly at the Chairman. His stare was pointed. Nusayr knew no one at the table would ask any questions about what he’d just said, and yet like the rest of the table, he too waited for a response.

It came but not from the Chairman. Instead, an underling sitting down the table a bit rose, and while he was shaking, he had something to say.

“That is all lies,” he said, his forefinger though shaking was pointing right at the head of the Ramat.

“You know, General, that you had troops lying in wait of this event; you know that you had huge SWAT teams and anti-Terrorist teams deployed all in undercover mufti waiting for this student protest. You were waiting for this ... and we know and all of Olbia knows,” he spit out and leaned on the table as he stared at the general.

The general replied with a single word. “Nonsense.”

The man sat but the daggers he used as he stared at the general did not go away.

“Thank you, General,” Nusayr said, “but, Chairman, again I ask, why are you here?”

Again, he knew but had to act surprised.

“The Guild has decided that as of midnight today, we will no longer ship any foodstuffs to the Export Port. Any at all. No food will be leaving Olbia over the next noticeable period. None,” he said quietly.

The room was still. The Council of Nine looked at each other and then to the ruler of Olbia for guidance, and Nusayr took his time answering, toying with the stylus as he twirled it on the desk pad in front of him. His face was solemn when he looked up at his foe down the table, and he spoke with a degree of finality.

“Chairman, we appreciate that the Guild controls the growth, harvesting, and shipping of all foodstuffs earmarked to go off-world on behalf of the hundreds of thousands of farmers on Olbia. We also are indebted to the Guild for the huge support to our economy that such an industry—in fact, our singular most important industry is our ability to raise foods for sale throughout the Caliphate. We feed the realm—but according to you, as of now, instead, you will starve our Caliphate citizens. Do I have that correct, Chairman?” Nusayr said in plain tones.

“Majesty, until the whole handling of the uprising and the Ramat’s over-the-top suppressing of same are addressed, we will not ship one case of lettuce off-planet. We are united, and no threat or retribution will change our stance on this. None,” he said.

Nusayr knew the whole of the Farmers Guild was in fact behind this sanction, and he was pleased.

“Fine, Chairman, I do not as yet have an answer for you on this matter, but I do know that the Ramat did what they had to do to prevent the loss of life and property by those student terrorists. We will discuss same, and we may reconvene—you will be notified. And one more thing to realize, Chairman, is that while this issue is Olbia’s issue—in fact, you’ve just made it a problem for the whole Caliphate realm. I will, of course, need to converse with our Caliph, and I’m sure that he will have an opinion on this matter too. I just hope that he will not look at this as a treasonous act.”

When the word treason was voiced, the Guild members froze and they all stared at the Chairman, who nodded and held up his hand.

“We mean to speak to that when the Caliph wishes to hear us, and I’d assume as others do too, that this will be quickly, Majesty. We are done, I believe, and we will retire,” he said as he rose, and the Guild members rose and were escorted out of the room by some of the Ramat guards. Nusayr looked at the nine members of his Council and simply said, “Opinions?”