Read Prison Planet (THE RIM CONFEDERACY Book 3) Online

Authors: Jim Rudnick

Tags: #BOOK THREE OF THE RIM CONFEDERACY

Prison Planet (THE RIM CONFEDERACY Book 3) (17 page)

BOOK: Prison Planet (THE RIM CONFEDERACY Book 3)
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#

Tanner marched with some care down the corridor between the lift on the
Sterling
and the conference room that the EliteGuards were leading him to. Like all cruisers, the decks were the same in number, but various Navy forces set them up as they needed to. On the
Marwick
, Deck Twenty-three held the gym, mess halls, ship’s library, movie hall, and a few meeting rooms. But here on the
Sterling
, the deck was off limits to all crew and officers, as notices said just that; only Royals were able to be on this deck along with their attending EliteGuards. Lost space, Tanner thought and then jammed the heel of his hand against his lips to quell the sudden burp. Either too much Scotch, he though, or maybe not quite enough, but the hell with it, all I gotta do is nod and say yes Ma’am.

The EliteGuard, a sergeant, stopped beside a closed door to port and knocked gently on it. From inside came a voice that said, “Send him in.”

Tanner waited while the sergeant opened the door, allowed him to enter, and then closed it behind him. He walked toward the table ahead of him that held only two people—the Lady St. August and her Adept officer, who didn’t even wear the ringed planet badge. He nodded to them, pulled out a conference chair to sit, and was happy to note this little faux pas received no response from either one. He looked around and saw the room was furnished with the large table, about a dozen chairs, and a luncheon spread out for a buffet over on the sideboard. Before he could even look at more than a few of the items, the Lady spoke.

“You were invited here today, Captain Scott, to listen to a, a proposition which I am to make on behalf of the Barony,” she said quietly but with a look on her face that Tanner knew meant something more was up than her simple sentence.

Easy, he thought, I have to nod and say yes Ma’am, but now I know that I have to think about what was said before I say yes. He slightly shook his head and then glanced at the Adept in the room and smiled. She might have caught that, and then he started thinking about which nursery rhyme to repeat. He turned more to face the Lady and nodded.

“I understand, Lady, that you speak for the Barony, so what does the Barony want with me? Or the RIM Navy?”

He almost burped again, but was able to bite the inside of his cheek to stop that one. Wonder if they’ve got Scotch on this cruiser, he thought and smiled.

The Lady never stopped looking at him but leaned a bit forward in her chair. Her long blonde hair moved forward so she tossed it behind her ear. She leaned forward farther and spoke to him.

“The Barony has commissioned a new vessel for our Navy—one of the first of those new super-destroyers from inwards beyond Pentyaan space ... from ... hell,” she said. “I’ve no idea where from, but I do know that this ship has three Perseus engines and will be the fastest ship out here on the RIM. Did you know that, Captain?”

She picked up the cup off the saucer and took a sip as she watched her luncheon guest.

Tanner’s mind was racing with the sheer splendor that would go with that new ship. With three engines, she could do a light-year in eight hours. Now that was fast! He nodded and waited, knowing more was to come.

“And what we want—both the Baroness and myself—we want that ship to be captained by the best captain we have in the Barony Navy. Which is our problem, Captain Tanner. One we hope that you can help us with,” she added and took another sip of whatever was in that cup.

Tanner sobered up a notch with that last comment and realized what they wanted was counsel. Just a name perhaps or what ... he had no real idea, but then what else?

“Ma’am, are you after a name? Doesn’t the Barony Navy have many competent and able captains to pick from, Ma’am, as I’d really have no idea on who to recommend from your own captains, Ma’am,” he said and smiled at them both. He wanted a drink, any kind of drink, but the sideboard was way over there, and he didn’t think getting up right now would be a good idea.

Gillian, the Adept officer, got up just then, went to the sideboard, poured a black coffee into a mug, and dropped it in front of Tanner with a simple nod.

Should have guessed, he thought as he took a quick sip and burned his tongue a bit. He still looked at the Lady and waited. He knew there was more judging by her stare back at him.

“Name? No, Captain, we are more than aware of our own Navy captains and their abilities. No, Captain, we do not need a name—we need a new captain. We need you,” she said, finished whatever was in her cup, and set it down with a clank on its saucer.

Tanner was in shock. He could have the newest super-destroyer to be his own, but yes, there was a cost. He would have to leave the RIM Navy, leave the admiral and what few friends he had, and that was a major issue. Then he realized that he’d be in the service of the Baroness—the one he knew was the perpetrator of the whole Pirate incursion almost a couple of years back. There was so much to put on the negative side of the ledger even considering such a move. Still, that captain’s chair on the fastest ship on the RIM was so strong on the other side. He gulped a large slurp of coffee and burned his mouth even more.

That burning mouthful made him sit back and think about his drinking and Scotch consumption and what that new captaincy would mean to him personally. He looked away from the table for a moment to the window port that was closed and stared at the blank black glass.

Gillian looked at the Lady and said simply, “Ma’am, may I say something?” and she waited to get a nod from the Lady.

“Captain Scott, it would be no surprise to you for you to learn that we—just like everybody else who cared to look into your posting here on Halberd knows—that you are here as a last resort to keeping your own captaincy in the RIM Navy. We know that the admiral has said you need to give up the bottle in the year that you’re to be here—else you will be relieved and de-commissioned. We know, Captain, we know all about that,” she said, looking straight into his eyes.

Tanner nodded. This was really no surprise. As the Adept had said, almost everyone knew he was here for his last chance at “rehab,” and he had yes, only a year.

“Well, then if that’s true, why would any Navy think about offering me a commission? A captain who is a drunk would surely not be a suitable candidate for the fastest ship on the RIM. Why would I leave one Navy that was going to get rid of me to take on a new job where I would also be fired? That makes no sense at all,” he said and that rang true for him.

The Lady looked at Tanner even more closely.

“Because we know—we really know—that you will beat the hold that the booze has on you, Captain. And we want you in the Barony Navy—captaining the newest, fastest ship we have. We know because we have more than studied you with our full Issian counselors, and they have looked ahead and have seen you in our Barony Navy uniform on the new ship. We know little more than that, of course, but we know it to be true. That, and we don’t really care about what you do with your life on your time, Captain. We want you, and I have a guess that you want that new ship. Am I correct, Captain?” she said.

The whole meeting came to a standstill as that question hung in the air.

Tanner toyed with his mug, took a sip, and then pushed it around again for a moment. No one spoke and he knew that he was being stared at, but he looked over at that black screen that held back the view of the Andros landing port tarmac.

He wondered what he might do and what decision he would make and then realized he couldn’t do that now. He needed time. Leaving the RIM Navy was a small point, though he would miss some of his crew mates. Leaving the admiral was more bothersome as he was his mentor. But leaving the bottle was the biggest factor—if he couldn’t, he’d be cashiered out of the RIM Navy. And according to the Lady, they didn’t even care. Scotch and the fastest ship on the RIM did sound good, and he knew that this side of the ledger was suddenly a mighty big factor to leave on the table.

He turned to the Lady.

“Ma’am, I thank you for the kind offer, but I am unable to make a decision on it right now. May I have some time, please?” he said quietly.

The Lady nodded but held up a finger.

“Yes, of course, Captain—but not months and months. You have probably heard that there will be a large 100th Anniversary Celebration here on Halberd ... 100 years and no successful escape. We would like to know your decision no later than say, that week, which is I think,” she said as she looked down at her PDA, “in about two months. Will that suffice, Captain?”

Tanner nodded. That would be enough time. It would have to be enough time to either defeat the bottle and stay in the RIM Navy or make the move over to the Barony and keep the Scotch as his best friend. He smiled as he realized this was a win-win situation for him, and he glanced over at the Adept counselor and smiled again as she dipped her head to him and smiled back. She must have heard that, he thought as he piled out of the room and left striding happily.

Later, the Lady knew she had to EYES ONLY back to the Baroness with the good news that Captain Tanner Scott would soon be in their Navy, and she smiled too.

 

#

Admiral McQueen watched with some degree of boredom as the majordomo finished his measurement of the last of the desk mats at each of the forty RIM Council member stations around the huge horseshoe council table and seemed to have at least satisfied that item on his list. He would go on, McQueen knew, to then do the same with the pads and styluses for each of the members and then again with the trays of refreshments for each too. Perches, water tanks, and chairs had been done first, and McQueen knew today’s agenda would be the final item the man in charge of the setup of each of the Council meetings would deal with. He and his chief steward moved on to those items too.

At least today was a pretty easy one.
He ticked off Agenda items on the page in front of him that had to be discussed. The normal Leudi and Faraway trade wars were on round 900 or so, and as such, they led off the items after the business of the various events that would be the openers as usual.

He frowned for a moment as he knew the budgets for the proposed 100th Halberd Anniversary festival was up early, and while the budgets weren’t that out of line, the simple fact was that his man on the scene, Captain Scott, was no closer to giving up the bottle than a one-year-old child.

“Pretty much the same,” he said to himself and shook his head slightly. His aide popped up with a raised eyebrow at that, and he waved him back and set his public face back to noncommittal.
Tanner would either give up the bottle or he’d be out of the RIM Navy, and I’ll have to cashier him out myself,
he thought. It was a hell of a way to pay back a man who had saved his life, as well as hundreds of crewman, in battles long ago.

He heard the treads of the DenKoss water trolleys coming in as he stared around the table and the majordomo placed the final few measured agendas. Sure enough, the three DenKoss members entered the Council chambers with staff doing the pushing followed by the lifting from the mobile trolley to the water baths placed at the table for this species. Slowly filtering in came the Quarans, those lizard-looking green-hide aliens that made the best wine out here on the RIM. The giant from Eran took his seat with delicacy, McQueen noted, as he’d broken the last one when he’d plopped his twelve-foot bulk down with aplomb. Perches were climbed on by the Djarreer members, and the Ttseens climbed up on their booster wedges in their chairs as they licked their whiskers and then a foreleg if it looked like it needed some grooming. Coming in at the end of the line of members, the Faraway Council member bounded twice to get to his chair, his tail pointing out behind him as he clambered in dexterously.

Almost all ... ah, here’s the Vice Chairman, McQueen thought as the Caliph Sharia Al Dotsa sidled in, quickly got his papers out of his attache case, and looked surprisingly at the empty chair directly to his left. He scanned the room and then looked over at the Council Chief of Staff with a raised eyebrow and received a shrug as his unspoken question was answered.

Reaching over to his left, he scooped up the gavel, and looking at the big clock above the doorway opposite the head of the table, he stood and slapped the gavel onto the desktop a few times to get some quiet in the room.

“Chief, close the Council Hall off, please,” he instructed the man seated at the center of the horseshoe space in front of him. That man immediately looked behind him to the doorway as it closed with two Provost Guards taking up picket duty on both sides of the door.

Slapping the table once more, he checked his agenda for any regrets, and seeing none, he spoke off the cuff.

“Members, I seem to have taken over the gavel today as our Chairman is missing—and I do not know why that might be. No regrets listed, and Chief—anything to add, may I ask?” he said and then took his seat.

The chief stood and said simply, “I apologize to the Council, but it is a mystery to myself and my staff as to where the Chairman is—we expected him to be here as usual to chair the meeting. I can offer nothing new on this, Mr. Vice Chairman,” he finished off and sat too.

Looking around the room as the meeting began, McQueen wondered what the backstory about this would become, but the quickness of the movement on some of the early items led the Council to get to the one item he had any interest in at all.

“Chief, can I ask that you put the next item up on the big screen, and yes, budget too?” the Vice Chair said, and they turned to the close wall to view same on the monitor.

McQueen noted the numbers having to do with security and facilities had been updated, and as usual, they’d trashed his own demands and had cut the budgets by about twenty-three percent. Idiots. The RIM has bean counters that are idiots, he thought, and some in the room noted his frustration.

“Mr. Vice Chair,” the member from Novertag said, “I see that the admiral while not voicing his displeasure with what we are seeing budget-wise ... may I ask that he speaks to this point?”

BOOK: Prison Planet (THE RIM CONFEDERACY Book 3)
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