Prison Planet (THE RIM CONFEDERACY Book 3) (13 page)

“Fancies next,” Tibah said and grabbed an armful of now empty sacks to toss in the van at the same time. Pulling the last set of cartons from within the van, she slid the stack toward Andre and then picked up the larger one and hauled it out to the center of the display area at the very front of their stall. Opening the carton, she reached in and pulled out a hybrid direct from their farms. This one looked like a whole comet pumpkin. Its sides were mottled yellow and green spotted in stripes, but a huge round part of the rind was a bright, dark, deep green that was of a rougher texture. Tibah put it on the center part of the shelf and twisted it so the inserted avocado-colored circle would be seen, though she admitted that it looked odd.

Pulling fancy after fancy out of the carton, she arranged butternut squash with cucumber inserts beside sweet yellow peppers with red tomato portions on one half, which were next to butternut squash with fuzzy big peach inserts. All in all, there were more than three dozen of these special fancy vegetable-fruit hybrids that would surely attract attention, and she smiled at Andre as they finished the display and noted the bell that usually rang to open the Market hadn’t yet rung.

“And we’re early too,” Tibah said and clapped her helper on the arm.

Andre nodded and smiled.

“We are and that’s a first in what, like a month or so, Countess?” he said.

“No Countess today, Andre. Today—in fact every market day—I’m just Tibah,” she said, her violet eyes twinkling, and she laughed loudly. Together they hustled the rest of the packing materials back into the van and slid the huge rear door closed.

Tibah went back up to the side of the front display shelves just to one side of their fancy display, chatted with their cashier, and checked that all was well and how much change was on hand for cash buyers. As well, she was assured that the payment gateway direct into their account was up and live, and they would be able to handle any direct charges too.

Tibah moved in front of the stall and looked over its complete width; as a doublewide stall, it stretched more than twenty-five feet and was on the corner of a major intersection and the side of the Farmers Market that faced the farm prison yard. Across the large wide pedestrian-only lanes that separated the stalls stood a great spot to buy cheeses of all kinds, even imported from other planets on the RIM. Beside it was the number one charcuterie shop with meats from over 100 different animals and fowl as well. Tibah often went across to chat with their owner and had become somewhat a friend here in the few months that the Caliphatians had been here on Halberd. She nodded and waved to the owner there, a small alien from Duos, that double world that swung so oddly around its huge red sun. Duoites, it was said, were one of those alien races that took to commerce so easily that trying to bargain with one usually went south right away. She had stood and watched a few times when the owner had held firm on his pricing while customers had walked away. Profit did need to be made, but Tibah also thought that making a name for yourself by offering great products at a fair price went a lot further with a smile, and yes, she would often countenance cutting her prices somewhat.

Down the lane to the right lay a couple more sections of stalls and the city street that once more held traffic. On the other side was the EL elevator ground station that connected the planet with Pike Station more than 30,000 miles straight up. She tilted back her head to scan the black carbon fiber rails that did that climb. It disappeared way above her head, and she almost tumbled backward looking so far up.

Walking past at this instant, two Provost Guards nodded first to her and then sidled over to say hello.

“Ma’am, your stuff looks great. Hope you sell out today, Countess,” the one younger guard said, and then they both moved off.

“And I agree, Countess,” Tanner said coming up from behind her and circling to stand beside her at the front of the stall.

“Ah, Captain Scott of the RIM Navy ... so I would guess that you’re in need of some vegetables—perhaps you should have sent your ship’s chef,” she said as she looked directly into his eyes.

Violet is becoming my favorite color, he thought and yet remembered to nod in agreement.

“Yes, Countess, I should have but I will ensure to make mention of it later today—but by then you’ll have already sold out most likely. What I do see—wait, what are these, um, oddly marred ones?” he said as he picked up what at first looked like a sweet green pepper and turned it over to see the other side was pebbled, red, and had a bit of a dimpled rind.

“That one is part green pepper,” she said pointing at the one side with a slim finger, “and the other side is a strawberry—what we call one of our fancy hybrids.”

She reached back to the far side of the display shelf, pulled out a flat knife, and took the item from his grasp. Holding it lined up, she carefully cut straight through the hybrid. Smiling at Tanner, she held up each half.

“One side is plain green pepper—well, not plain, organically grown and sweet, sweet, sweet, and the other,” she said as she held it up, “is a solid strawberry, again sweet too!”

Tanner stared at the two halves. The pepper half was empty and up top held the seeds a normal green pepper would ... one used it not for the air it held but for the sweet green skin. The other was a strawberry, shaped, of course, as a green pepper might be, but a strawberry nonetheless. Solid fruit from the outer skin through to the halfway point of the hybrid.

He grinned at her.

“Now, that is so cool—but what prevents the strawberry from filling up the whole interior cavity as it grows?” he asked as he looked back and forth between the two halves.

“Our gene splicing using the best GMO secrets we could find is how. Seems the interiors fill only where they have direct skin contact. We call them ‘fancies’ and that seems to work.

Tanner smiled and threw her a salute.

“Ma’am, that is one different but so smart an idea. I bet you do sell out today and every day! My opinion on Caliphatian intellect just went up a huge notch!” He grabbed up the strawberry half and then reached in his pocket, but Tibah laid a hand on his forearm. The feeling alone felt good, he thought.

“Consider this one a freebie, Captain, but do send your chef next time!” she said and gently squeezed his arm before letting go.

He smiled at that, gave her a real salute, and then wandered off to look across the lane at the cheeses on display in the large glass cases. She watched him and noted that he appeared to like a couple and bought two small amounts and accepted them gladly. He waved at her one more time and then walked off toward the next section of stalls. She wondered
what that had been abouy, but she was glad he had dropped by.

#

Carnarvon was one of those worlds that when first viewed from space received a nod from all the new tourists to see it. The fourth planet from its large red sun, an M2 red super-giant star that put out so much spectral heat, Carnarvon, was a hot, hot place to call home.

Carnarvon’s oceans were blue, but the landmass continents shone red with the reflected light of that huge solar furnace. Adding to the overall red glow that was the daylight was the almost constant volcanic activity occurring along the tectonic plate junctures that coursed through the continents and the wide and sparsely separated islands. Carnarvon soaked up the red rays from the red super-giant star, ably supported by the hot gases from beneath the planet’s core.

Most of the cities of the planet were on Vulia, the largest continent in the northern hemisphere, with smaller regional cities outside the major population area. The planet’s capital city, Veloka, with over one million citizens was on the eastern coast of that large continent, and as the city with the planet’s landing port, it was where all the FTL ships ended up waiting for the planet to allow them to land.

Except for us, Captain Flannery thought, as he shook his head at his lieutenant and said dryly, “Acknowledge that we got that Ansible, Lieutenant, but then just tell them we’re on our way down.”

The lieutenant who was the Ansible officer of the day stared back. His face was a question, but he said not a word. He nodded, spoke into his throat mic, and shrugged a couple of times at the answers he got. His shoulders pulsed as he appeared to be now forcefully answering the ground officer at the Carnarvon landing port administration offices, but the bridge was quiet. Moments later, there was the tell-tale tapping of a heel as the Lady St. August, who had been sitting quietly, let all on the bridge know that when a Royal wanted to land, they would simply do so.

Nodding to the other man on the Ansible, even though it couldn’t be seen by the Carnarvon officer below, Lieutenant Symons turned back to the captain and smiled.

“Sir, we’re granted permission to land at our leisure, I’m told, and it’s been verified as well, Sir. Ma’am,” he said as he glanced between his captain and the Lady.

“Fine, Lieutenant. Helm, take us down, please, smoothly too I’d add,” the captain said.

The
Sterling
seemed to yaw at first, and then it’s pitch changed as thrusters on control of the helm officer took over, and the
Sterling
began to go down to the planet on its tail. The Lady smiled at her captain and nodded.

Below them as the world slowly came into view, just about every single building, roof, park, and roadway reflected the red light that shone back. Carnarvon was red and that color was seen off everything below.

Minutes later, the
Sterling
began to pulse with its mag-lev thrusters, and shortly thereafter, the landing fins rung out as they found purchase on the tarmac and the
Sterling
had landed. Smooth, free from any problems, and the Lady smiled once more at her bridge crew.

“Nice landing, and my compliments, gentlemen,” she said as she rose to go down to her quarters.

“Captain, please have transport ready for me in about two hours, please, to take me to the Barony Embassy. Thank you,” she said and left without a further word, but in five seconds, she was back.

“Sorry, Captain, but I forgot. Please contact the University. I want their best expert on our RIM Confederacy statutes to attend me at our Embassy. Best mind you, someone who I can ask anything and get some truthful answers—truthful legal answers. Arrange that now if you please,” she finished, turned on a shapely leg, and exited the bridge for the second time.

The crew was busy with their landing verification checklists, but Lieutenant Symons just had to say something.

“Sir, with permission ... she pushes for the ‘Royal’ privileges and then goes to her quarters for a nap? We would have been granted landing rights in most likely an hour or so, so it wouldn’t have mattered at all. Sir?” he said, and the rest of the bridge crew looked at their captain.

“Ours is not to question or query Royals on any matter ever. It’s what we do being Barony Navy men, and may I remind you that its orders we follow. Period, Lieutenant. That is all,” he said and turned to his right to look at his XO.

“XO, while I contact the University, put together an away team, EliteGuards need to be notified, couple of Provost officers as well, I’d think, and notify the Embassy we’re going to be received in about two hours. No hoopla, but still, it is the next Baroness we’re delivering, so stand on protocol, please. Comm to you XO, dismissed,” he said as he rose and left the bridge.

A soft sigh escaped the lips of a few of the crew left behind, but not a comment was made as they went back to their checklists and preparation of Customs, Health, and Cargo inspectors.

Less than two hours later, a visitor waited at the Barony Embassy, which was located on the second floor of an older and well-maintained mansion in the embassy row area of Veloka near the city center. Seated in the conference room were the Barony ambassador and his aide, a tall youngish looking academic in a neatly pressed suit with the usual Carnarvon red tint to his skin. One chair next to the ambassador remained empty.

The ambassador said once more to his guest, “I am sure that the Lady will be here directly, Professor, and my apologies—perhaps traffic has delayed their vehicle.”

He pointed to the sideboard table that held fresh coffee, tea, soft drinks, water, and the Lady’s favorite pastries and offered more to his guest.

“Not a problem, Mr. Ambassador, I was asked to attend this meeting, and in doing so, I got to skip out on lecturing a Statute Law 101 course, which is so boring that I’m happy to be here. Happy indeed and yes, I think I’ll have another of those Carnarvon muffins too,” he said as he rose, added a third muffin to his plate, and retook his seat to await the Lady St. August.

From down the hall, the striding sounds of boots on the tiled corridor could be heard, and the two men in the conference room rose to stand behind the large board table. Four EliteGuards men entered the room and spread out to picket the doorway. Behind them, the Lady entered the room and ignored the two men already there as she went to the sideboard to get a tea and take a dainty pastry—bright red icing, of course—and then took a seat down at the far end of the conference table.

Both of the men hurriedly scooped up their own cups and side plates and moved down to her end of the table. The ambassador looked directly at her, but the Lady was looking out the window at whatever lay there ignoring the two men.

As the professor leaned forward to introduce himself, a soft hand on his forearm from the ambassador quelled that introduction and they sat and waited.

“Being a Royal—at least from a non-Royal person’s point of view—seems easy, does it not?” she said, her voice soft, but it was obvious that this was a rhetorical question.

Both men sat still and waited, as they knew there would be more.

“And for someone like me, born a Royal, who is going to one day inherit the Barony with our nine—no, ten—planets with our billions of citizens, it is a lifetime of obligation and duty to the tasks of governing the Barony. Ambassador, is this the man who you have brought to me who can help me with what I seek to know about our RIM Confederacy law?” she said as she turned and leaned in to the table, picking up that red iced pastry.