He Who Dares: Book Two (The Gray Chronicals 2) (9 page)

“You know, milady, you could just activate the mirror and see yourself dressed.”

“Oh phooey.  It’s not that same.  I want to look special tonight.”

“For anyone I know?”  Mary asked teasingly.  Princess Anastasia gave her maid a dark look, eyebrows scrunching down into a very un-lady like frown.

“You know very well who… whom I am dressing for, Mary.”

“Undressing more likely.”  Mary muttered under her breath.

“I heard that!”

“Heard what, milady?”  Mary asked innocently, looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

“I’ve a good mind to cut off your smoke breaks.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t do that, now would you Annie?”  She grinned.  The Princess sighed.

“No, I suppose not.”  She stamped her foot in frustration.  “Please help me find something to wear.”

The scout car landed in the reserved parking area behind Windsor Castle, much to the displeasure of the traffic Superintendent.  It wasn’t every day that an armed assault vehicle landed here.  Hidden weapon emplacements locked on and tracked the vehicle as it came in to land, and remain until the traffic Superintendent cleared the board.  He watched on the monitor as the hatch opened, and out stepped a tall young man carrying a small valise.  Mike stretched and looked around, seeing the town on one side, open pasture and forest on the other with the river running through the town.  To all intense and purposes the place looked defenseless, other than the imposing fortress like building behind him, but looks can be deceiving.  Somewhere out there were several hundred SAS and Ghurkha troops lay in hiding.  They were just the perimeter guard and there to give warning of any attack on Winsor Castle.  The whole area out to several hundred yards was seeded with command-detonated mines, and ever hillock and mound probably hid a defense point with automatic weapon emplacements.  The guards marching back and forth in their assigned positions were for show only, and in a few seconds could vanish below ground to their fighting positions.  When it came to defending the Royal family, wherever you saw was for show and few, if any saw the layered defense screen that had the capability to stop an army.  It spoke volumes to how much the Royal family was taking the threat of war.

Mike only knew a fraction of the measures to defend this place, and others the Royal family might use, and, as a Naval Officer, he was only privy to part of it.  The gate guard checked his credentials, and the bag, then saluted and stepped back so he could enter the waiting shuttle car.  Palace security cameras followed the cars' movements until it halted beside the rear door of the Palace and the young man exited, presenting himself for the second security check.  Again, the Superintendent checked his credential, and the invitation, and did a retinal scan before he opened the security door.  The valise vanished down a chute, en-route to a complete scan for weapon, explosives, and biological agents before going on to his room.

“Good evening, Leftenant Gray, you may proceed.”  His smile was genuine.  His sharp eye missed nothing, including the fatigued look on Mike’s face.

“Thank you, sir.”  No sooner had he walked inside when Taffy came running up.

“The jungle telegraph said you’d arrived, and thought I come down to meet you.”  He grinned.  “How on Earth have you been?”

“Busy, Taffy, news travels fast.”

“Yes, the telegraph is good, God you look beat.”

“It's been a busy time.”

“Any problems?”  He looked concerned.

“Yes, a lot, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“I’m sure, but a little help from people in the know might smooth the way over the rough spots.  Anything I can do at this end?”

“That’s great, but I’m not sure what you can do, but I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Can’t chat now, the party is waiting, but later, or after breakfast tomorrow morning.”

“Great.”  With a wave, Taffy pounded off, and Mike shook his head, wishing he had that much energy then followed the page up to his room.

The party, as it turned out, was much more informal than he’d anticipated, consisting mainly of family members and close friends of the Royal family.  In a way, Mike felt a little out of place at first, wondering a little why he’d been invited, except for Ann of course.  Between the gang, and the Royal family itself, they soon made him feel at home.  The Lady Ann kept her distance, but smiled when he caught her eye, and one time blew him a kiss, taking care no one saw.  This was more of a pre-Christmas bash rather than the more intimate party tomorrow.  At midnight, they gathered round the tree and sang traditional Christmas carols and it brought back memories of other Christmases at home, and his Grandfather and Avalon.  They would be doing much the same soon, but Christmas there wasn’t for another two months, based on Avalon’s calendar.  After that, and a few eggnogs, they played traditional games before the King, who’d appointed himself Santa, began handing presents.  Much to his embarrassment, he received several himself, but he’d hadn’t brought anything, or so he thought.  He received ‘Thank you’ from several people, including the King, the Princess, and the gang.  A quick look at the Princess confirmed his suspicions that she was the author of the presents.  She smiled innocently back at him, flirting with him with her eyes.  The games went on until 2:30 am before the King called a halt.

“Have to make my traditional Christmas address to the Nation in the morning, so I do need to get a little sleep,” he smiled, “but do carry on and enjoy yourselves.”

With that, he waved to everyone and left, but after that, the party slowly wrapped up as the children fell asleep in their mothers, or nanny's arms, as one after the other people said goodnight and drifted off to bed.  Mike stifled a yawn, and made his farewells, finding he was nodding off to sleep.  He needed a cold shower if he was to stay awake, when, and if the Princess came.  The shower did wake him up, and he slid under the warm covers to wait, but that was his undoing.  He closed his eyes for a brief moment to relax, or so he thought, and that’s how Ann found him twenty minutes later, sound asleep, his tired face relaxed in sleep.  The Princess Royal sighed, but didn’t try to wake him, as much as she wanted to.  Instead, she snuggled down beside him, cradling his head in her arms, and just held him.  He murmured softly in his sleep as she stroked his forehead, and seemed to relax even more, his arms sliding round her body.  It was enough, and she contented herself with just being close, holding him, smelling him, and listening to his gentle breathing.  There was always tomorrow night.  When he awoke late the next morning, he looked around, groaning, mentally kicking himself for falling asleep.  Had she been here?  The dent in the pillow next to him said yes, and the faint traces of her perfume told him she had.  So why she hadn’t woken him?” The breakfast room was empty when he arrived, but the chief steward nodded as he came in and motioned towards the table. Mike sat, yawning.

“Good morning Leftenant Gray, sleep well?”  The steward placed a pot of coffee at his elbow after pouring the first cup.

“Yes, great, sorry I’m late.”

“Think nothing of it, sir.  Everyone is late this morning, so we have kept breakfast going, probably into lunch by the look of it.”

“Thanks, this is just what I need.”  Mike spooned sugar into his cup and added cream.

“What would you like for your breakfast this morning, sir?”

“Egg, bacon, sausage, a mountain of fries, and some toast, if I can?”

“No trouble at all, sir.”

“Thanks.”

“Good Morning, your Majesty.”  The Steward bowed slightly and continued walking to the sideboard.  Mike shot to his feet as the King came in.

“Good morning, your Majesty.”  He greeted; grabbing his napkin before it fell to the floor.

“I’ve told you about that before Michael, you will hurt yourself,” he laughed, “sit down and relax my boy.”  The King chucked and sat.

“Yes, sir, sorry, force of habit.”  The King nodded in understanding and took the chair beside him, instead of the one reserved for him at the head of the table.

“How the work on your ship progressing?”  Mike froze with a forkful of food half way to his mouth.

“Very well, sir, but we do have a few problems.”  Mike gulped a mouthful of food in surprise.  Wondering how on Earth the King knew about it.

“Anything you can’t handle?”

“No, sir, we are finding ways to work round them.”

“Good, glad to hear that.”  He doubted Mike would tell him if he did have a problem, unlike some others who’d take advantage of the situation.

It was a bit of a shock to Mike.  The King obviously knew about his ship, and his estimation of the importance of the project went up a notch.  He almost broached the potential trouble with the Inspector, but thought better of it.  He didn’t want the King to think he couldn’t handle the assignment.

“Seaford tells me you volunteered to spar with him.  Did you tell him how good you are a sword?”  Mike felt himself go cold.  That was something he didn’t think anyone knew about, outside people on Avalon.

“No, sir, I’m not anywhere near as good as he is, I suspect.”  He answered carefully.  King knew a little more about his background than he thought, but did he know the truth?

“I did a little checking up on your home world, Michael, and it makes for interesting reading.”

“Sir?”  Mike asked, keeping his face expressionless.

“Oh, I don’t mean Kellman.”  The King smiled at him. “But I can understand why you felt it was necessary to hide the fact that you are from Avalon when you entered the Marines.”  Internal, Mike cringed.

“I…”  He closed his mouth on another lie, and nodded instead.  From his expression, the King wasn’t upset about the lie.

“Your secret is safe, a sort of state secret you might say.

“Thank you, sir, I think.”  The King smiled.

“I was somewhat intrigued that they still permit dueling on Avalon.  Isn’t that a bit barbaric?”

“Yes, sir, and no, they do permit it under strict rules and supervision.  It’s also one way of settling a lot of personal disputes that otherwise would go unresolved, and possibly lead to intolerable situations.”  He smiled slightly.  “It also gets rid of a lot of lawyers.”

“I see.  Good point.”  That brought a smile to the King’s face.  “And that includes the duels you participated in?”  Mike colored slightly, wondering just how much the King knew about the details.  It also spoke of a good spy system on Avalon, which there shouldn’t be, or…  The second thought was more disturbing than the first.

“Did you tell Seaford that you had three duels yourself?”  The King asked, carefully buttering a piece of toast before adding Marmalade.

“No, sir, I thought it better to leave that unsaid.”  It was clear the King knew a lot more about the goings on, on Avalon than he should.  Mike felt a little uneasy, wondering what the King thought about his duels, and what else he might know.  Again, Mike had that feeling there was more going on behind the scenes than he suspected.

“Yes, he might not have been so eager to cross swords with you if he had.”  The King left it unsaid that Mike killed two men in the last duels.

Nor the fact that his last dual was the main reason he was here on Earth.  Most duels ended in first blood, but on the last occasion Mike had killed two people.  Not because he wanted to, but because he lost his temper, and paid the price.  It wasn’t something he was proud of, just the opposite in fact.  His last deployment with the Marines was another stinking mess, and again he’d only just managed to get his men and himself out of it alive by the skin of his teeth.  That action never made the headlines, just a ‘police’ action of some half-forgotten world no one cared or thought about.  Why they’d ever sent them there in the first place was unknown, only that they had.  Three months of insect infested jungle, rain, humility jungle rot and the constant harassment by the locals let him in no mood to be fucked around with by anyone.  He’d lost too many good men for no damn good reason and blamed himself, again.  They should never have put him in command in the first place, but they had.  His enlistment was up, and after signing a mountain of papers, he left in the middle of the night without saying anything to anyone.  His mood was so dark he failed to pay attention to orders, and failed to report to the med center to have his implants deactivated, plus a few other things like receiving his combat medals and VC.

He took the first flight out on a broken down tramp freighter and sent a miserable three months getting back to Avalon.  Even after betting home, he couldn’t shake himself out of his depression.  He remembered the afternoon it happened as if it were yesterday, the bright blue skies with fluffy white clouds sailing majestically across as he walked home from the Dojo.  Central Park should have lightened his mood, children running and playing, girls in their summer dresses, the smell of fresh cut grass, but all he could remember was the look on the faces of his men as they died.  Why the Joslin brothers decided that day to pick on him, he never knew, just that they did.  This wasn’t the first time they had a run in; the last time was over a girl Andrew Josin was sweet on.  It didn’t come as any surprise when Andrew challenged him, and in keeping with the law, they’d used the services of a Proctor to mediate the dispute.  The older brother had refused to accept ‘first blood’, and paid the price.  He beaten Andrew easily and fairly, and thought the incident forgotten until that day.  This time Andrew simply drew his sword, and challenged him on the spot.  He told himself that he’d tried to back out of the fight, and that he’d called for a Proctor, but Andrew kept coming at him, egged on by his younger brother.  In the end, he had to defend himself, but even so, he had no intention of killing him.  That was until his brother struck him from behind, cutting him from shoulder to waist down his back.  He should have been able to anticipate that, and kept a wary eye on the kid, but in his present mood, he’d left his back undefended.  Pulsing black anger tore through him, his vision going red around the edges, murderous fury replacing reason as he fought both of them.  The Joslin brothers never were the swordsmen they thought they were, and seconds later, they both lay dead with him standing over the bodies when the Proctor finally arrived.

“Avalon keeps its justice system to the minimum, sir, very few courts and judges, no prisons, and no crime.”

“What do you attribute that to?”

“Well, sir, for a start, we controlled the population.”

“I can see the advantages to that, but it’s not something we can really do here.”

“No, sir, I realize that, and so did my Great Grandfather Max Tregallion.  On Avalon, you need a permit to have children, and they are automatically wards of the state at birth, and placed under the joint protection of all citizens.”

“And that means?”

“No orphans.  In other words, we are all responsible for the children, no matter who their parents are.”  He saw the King nods.  “They are also guaranteed, health services, a complete education, counseling if need be, all basic services, such as housing, power, water, food, communications, and full citizenship after completing compulsory military service.”

“So, you don’t have cases of child abuse, or neglect.”

“No, sir, none.  The last case was over fifty years ago.”  He thought of his own case, but wasn’t sure if it applied to him.  “No orphans, as we like to say.”

“You say no crime, do you mean that literally?”

“Yes, sir.  The Government, your Government took the position that too many mistakes were made in the pasted and the wrong people convicted and sent to jail, or executed.”

“But the alternative.”

“Yes, sir, and your answer was to outlaw the death penalty.”

“I take it you don’t agree.”

“No, sir, we use electronic and chemical means to find out who the guilty party is first, and then the judge decides the punishment.”

“Doesn’t that violate his or her human and civil rights?”

“From your legal point of view, yes.  From Avalon’s, not in the least, sir, or at least, that’s how we feel.  If you are accused and innocent, then you know that one trip to the Proctor’s office and you will be vindicated.”  He didn’t add that the trip wasn’t voluntary, but few, except the guilty, ever refused or complained.

They disarmed him and taken him to the senior Proctors office for questioning, and even as he walked into the office he knew he was guilty.  He’d taken the drugs rather than had then injected and sat through three hours of intense questioning.  His Grandfather was there, as well as the Joslin boy’s parents, and he could hear the argument going on in the background.  They wanted his head, the boy’s mother screaming her hatred as he detailed the fight.  In the end, the Proctor’s office ended up with a conundrum on their hands.  On one hand, it was clear the boys had picked the fight and violated the law by starting it before a Proctor arrived.  In such a case, he was justified in defending himself.  The moment the bother entered the fight he had the right to use deadly force, and he had.  What condemned him were the words out of his own mouth.  He admitted that in the end, he’d he wanted to kill them, wanted to see them dead, at which point it became murder.

“Has there ever been a mistake, or someone tampering with the results?”  The Kink asked, breaking into his thoughts.

“No, sir, not that I know of.  The questioning is performed under very strict rules, supervision, and witnesses.  Three independent observers have to verify and agreeing with the results.”  He answered, simplifying an otherwise complex process.  What he couldn’t say was where the truth drug came from, or how infallible it was.  You could no more lie under the influence of TD-Penta than you could breathe vacuum, and that had been his undoing.

“And if it should be a clear case, of say, murder?”

“In that eventuality, the judge can either order immediate execution, in the case of deliberate pre-meditation, or some other punishment and restitution to the victim's family in the case of second or third degree.”  He had some idea how long the argument about what his punishment should be.  The parents of the Joslin boys wanted the death penalty, but the Proctors argued against it.  Where his paternal Grandfather stood, he never knew as he’d left once the questioning was completed.

“And if he repeats the offense?”

“There are no repeat offends, sir.  In the case of murder, he doesn’t get another chance, he, or she, is executed immediately, it is determined that he has committed the crime.”  That pointed to his own case, and the reluctant determination that he’d acted in self defense. 

On reflection after the duel, he knew that if he hadn’t let his temper get away from him, he might have ended it another way.  Therein lay the dilemma for the judge.  At what point does self-defense become murder?  Was it just intent?  He’d been vindicated, much to the anger and disappointment of the family concerned, yet the fault lay with the family, and the two brothers who’d refused to accept the first ruling in the death of their brother.  They’d turned it into a vendetta, and paid the price.

“I must say, that’s quick and clean in some way, compared to the antiquated system we have here.”

“Yes, sir, that’s what the founding families wanted to avoid.”  Mike felt a little uncomfortable discussing this with the King.  He really wasn’t qualified.

“What about in the case of a criminal, or gangs?”

“Oh, we have had one or two of those, but they only lasted a few months before the local populous rounded them up and shipped them off planet.”  He felt on safe ground now and relaxed slightly.  The PM or his Great Grandfather were better qualified to answer questions like this, especial coming from the King himself.