Sertian Princess (19 page)

"And Zara.... Where did she go?"

"I don't know, my lord.  I didn't see her again after we split up."

Nerissa and Gerald had come over while Brianey had been talking, and heard the last part of the story.

"Who is this Zara?"

"Lady Zara Chekova.  She's a close friend of mine and one of the group that has been looking after your sister and Lady Lynda."

"And you don't know where she is now.... is that right?"

"Not exactly, Your Highness.  I think I have a pretty good idea of where she is now.  You see the pirates are convinced they have your sister and Lady Lynda on board the Palomar.  Now Lady Lynda is fairly easily identifiable because of the surgical implant in her left shoulder and so, if they say they've got her, they're probably right. The interesting question is who have they got with her, that they think is Princess Nerissa."

"Lady Zara."

"It's got to be a strong possibility."

"What will they do when they find out the truth?"

"I guess they'll be a bit peeved.  It all depends on how long Zara can keep it up.  She's a superb actress, so she ought to be able to carry the part off.  The risk is that they've got someone on board the Palomar who knows Princess Nerissa, or that they check Zara's bioscan against Neri's medical records.  I think we can rule out the first case or the game would be over by now, so that leaves the bioscan.  With a bit of luck they won't have the equipment on the freighter to do a full bioscan, so they'll be all right until they reach Parm."

"What about the Lady Lynda?  Will she play along with the deception?"  Mikael asked.

"Good point.  She obviously has so far, but how did that transmitter get there?  Neri, do you know?"

"No.... Wait.  It must have been after the accident.  Yes, of course....  Lynda had a riding accident about six months ago while she was home on Gan.  She broke her collarbone and I seem to remember that she said she had to have some minor surgery to reset it.  That must have been when it was done."

"So we can assume then that she mightn't know the transmitter was there, and if she hasn't blown the whistle on Zara yet, then she's probably still on the side of the angels."

"We still need to move quickly," Mikael urged.  "The Palomar's a fast ship and we can't allow them too long down on the planet's surface.  They'll run a bioscan as standard procedure for everybody on landing."

"Don't worry about that.  The Salamander can comfortably outstrip that chuntering little freighter, even with a head start.  Our first priority, however, is to return Princess Nerissa here, safely to her father.

"Commander Boronin, how much damage has the Cleopatra taken?"

"She's still operational although we've got to make some running repairs to her."

"How much damage, Commander?"

"Well one of her main laser turrets is out of action but the other one is functional under manual control.  And she doesn't actually have any defensive screens at the moment, but the Chief says he can repair the shields in under six hours."

"Hm, pity about the screens, but we'll sweep the area for hostile ships before you leave.  I want you to take Princess Nerissa and make your best possible speed to Serta.  If you meet any trouble, run fast and duck.  We can send a message on ahead but King Harald won't actually believe it until Neri is safely back there with him."

"The frigate Antares is also in the area," Mikael offered.  "She could take the Princess."

"Now that's good news.  She can escort you while you effect your repairs.  But I'm entrusting Neri to you, Commander: nobody else.  I want her to travel on the Cleopatra."

"But won't you need some help at Parm?"  Mikael had one last attempt to avert the inevitable.

"Yes, but not from the Cleopatra.  She has a strong heart and a brave captain but I doubt whether Space Admiral Wei would thank me for committing any units of the Imperial Navy to a full frontal assault on the best space defence system in the Sector, let alone a ship that has taken such a battering as the Cleopatra.  I was thinking much more along the lines of borrowing your detachment of Imperial Guard for a 'backdoor' job instead.

"I assume, your Highness," he went on, turning towards Prince Gerald,  "that you'll be wanting to travel to Serta with your sister."

"No, my lord, I will not.  I'm sure Neri will be perfectly safe aboard an Imperial warship, especially in Commander Boronin's charge, and in any case, I'm coming with you to Parm.  I claim it as my right, both as the officer commanding the detachment of Imperial Guard you wish to borrow, and also as the representative of my father, to see that the people who have committed this crime against the House of Serta are appropriately punished.

"Besides," he went on with a grin.  "If the Salamander is as fast as you say she is, we can rescue the ladies and still make it home in time for the celebrations."

***

Although the platform had been cleared of the main crowd, there were still plenty of people milling about, both crew and passengers.  In all the confusion, no-one noticed one man standing alone at the edge of the platform with a drink in his hand, gazing out into the open space of the Astrodome.  There was nothing particularly noticeable about him.  He was of average height and build, with brown hair and blue eyes, a light tan and no obvious distinguishing marks.  He had dressed to blend in with the other passengers; smart and fashionable, but not overly expensive.  He had spent so much of his life seeking to be unobtrusive, that it had become second nature to him.  A manner he put on with his clothes when he dressed in the morning.

Nobody noticed him standing there and, when he put down his drink, removed the tiny directional microphone from his ear, slipped it into his pocket and left, nobody noticed him go.

CHAPTER 19

Francesco Alberto Giovanni Galileo had been born 26 years earlier on the planet Firenze in the system of Etruria.  The youngest of three brothers and four sisters, he had been born into a family with a strong naval tradition.  His grandfather and two of his great-uncles had served aboard the Battleship Wisconsin at the time of the Canine Insurrection and had been decorated for conspicuous gallantry following the Incident at Magmar.

His father, Enrico, had served with the legendary Admiral "Red" Shadouk until the reactor accident which cut short his career. 
Second Lieutenant Enrico Galileo serving aboard His Imperial Majesty's cruiser Indomitable, with complete disregard for his own safety, did enter the cooling tubes of the ship's main propulsion unit and did manually operate the control devices to shut down the reactor, thus saving from certain destruction the 783 officers and men, crew of the Indomitable
.  So ran the citation, framed and hanging in pride of place on the living room wall back on Firenze.  Before he died, his father had been taken in a hospital ship to Petrograd, to receive the Navy's highest gallantry award, the Procyon Cluster from the hands of the Emperor himself.

Francesco did not grow tall, none of his family did, but he topped his brothers by a good two centimetres and he was very powerfully built.  He was considered handsome, judging at least by the reactions of the local girls whenever he got some shore leave.  He had a mass of dark curly hair and dark brown eyes, his good-looks enhanced by a deep tan originally from the Etrurian suns but now reinforced by deep space radiation.  In his best drill whites for going ashore, he cut a very fine figure indeed.

He had always known he would join the Navy but his burning ambition had been to be an officer like his father before him.  On the day he graduated from Firenze University of Science with his degree in Basic Electronics, he went straight to the local Recruiting Office and applied for Cadet Selection.

Thousands of other graduates would, he knew, also be applying to the Space Academy over the next few weeks and the selection process would be rigorous.  Initial elimination would be done at a local level by an increasingly difficult series of mental and physical examinations.  Then the most likely candidates, the select, the chosen few would travel to the Space Academy itself for the Final Selection Board.

There had only been two successful candidates from Firenze that year, but the Academy transport had already visited most of the other systems in the Sector and there were thirty other candidates already on board.  Two more stops made the total 38 and then the transport headed for the Academy to join up with the transports coming in from the other Sectors.  All in all, that year there were 262 candidates for Final Board.

It was not, of course, just one Board.  The series of tests began again, but this time they were subtly different.  The simple elimination tests had been dealt with at a local level.  Now the exercises measured group dynamics, communications skills, interactions between group members under situations of stress, leadership ability.  One or two candidates dropped out during the tests but most, having come this far, made it through to the end to await the results from the final interview.

There was never any fixed number of successful candidates.  If you were good enough, the Academy would take you, and Francesco was certain he was good enough.  The final interview with the Board was, therefore, a very painful affair.  The Board, chaired by a Vice Admiral no less, were very sorry: the results from the physical, intellectual and leadership exercises were very good but the psychiatric tests indicated a weakness in his personality, a tendency towards introversion that was incompatible with the role of a Naval Officer.  The Board would, however, be prepared to recommend that, if he were to sign on as a rating and prove himself for a couple of years under deep space conditions, then an application for Officer Training at that stage, would be favourably received.

The rest of the day passed in a blur.  He could never afterwards remember how he had escaped from that awful interview; cheeks red with embarrassment, tears starting at his eyes and a voice so choked with emotion that he was incapable of saying anything coherent, even if he could control his thoughts sufficiently to think it.

In that one interview, the dream, the preparations of his childhood and adolescence had been destroyed.  Francesco had never considered failure as a possibility; had no alternative plan.  He could not, would not go home.  That was too big a lump to swallow.  So he went out and got very drunk, falling down drunk, and when he sobered up he did it again, and then again for most of the next three months.  Then he dried himself out, signed up and joined the Navy as a rating.

Since his initial training he had two other postings before joining the Cleopatra.  With his background in Electronics he had no difficulty in passing the exams for Electronics Artificer, and then for Leading Artificer.  Heeding the Board's advice he waited the two years, getting his first deep space experience aboard the Destroyer Ganges, but every year since then he had applied for Officer Training and every year until now he had been turned down.

The difference this time had been the run-in with the Southern Adventurer.  His Watch Commander aboard the Arcturus during that action had been Lieutenant Mikael Boronin, and Francesco had been one of the men Mikael had requested as prize crew to take the Southern Adventurer back to New London.  The blockade runner had been badly crippled in the fire fight and it had required all of Francesco's skill with the main drive control systems, to nurse her back home to safety.

Mikael had always been a fair officer and in his report to the Admiral, he had given credit where it was due.  He did not forget his old crew either, when his own promotion came through.  Francesco had been one of the ones he had specifically asked for when putting together the new crew for the Cleopatra.  Furthermore Mikael had endorsed the application for Officer Training in such strong terms that, two days after the Cleopatra had left Runnymede, Francesco learned that he had finally been accepted.  As soon as the Cleopatra returned from this mission, he was to report to the Space Academy as an Officer Cadet.

Now, as he stood outside the airlock guarding the access to the Cleopatra's launch, his head was still buzzing with the prospect before him.  Finally he was going to get the chance to prove himself and to show that the Selection Board had been wrong all those years ago.

***

When he left the Astrodome, the anonymous looking man headed straight for his cabin.  For what he had to do next he needed both a change of clothing and some of the highly specialised equipment he had brought with him.  He got away from the area around the bar and was nearly at the door to the cabin before he was challenged.

"Excuse me, sir."

The hail came from behind him.  He looked round and found a steward standing at the corner of the passageway.  He waited, trying to assess the potential of the situation, as the man came towards him.

"Excuse me, sir.  I'm afraid the emergency is still on, sir.  All the passengers are requested to remain in the Astrodome until the emergency is over."

He looked appraisingly at the steward: the man was about his height and build.  This could be the solution to one of his problems. He became aware that the steward was beginning to look at him in a slightly puzzled manner and came to a decision.

"Uh, I.... I'm sorry steward.  I needed some medication from my cabin.  One of your colleagues back at the bar said that it would be all right.

"Well, he shouldn't really have said that, sir.  But I guess it'll be all right, seeing as how you're here anyway.  Which one is your cabin, sir?"

"It, uh....  It's this one over here.  Perhaps you could wait just a minute while I get the pills.  I won't be a moment."

"Yes all right, sir.  Quick as you can and then I'll see you back to the Astrodome."

He unlocked the door and quickly went in, partially closing the door behind him.  He made a rapid check around the room but it was exactly as he had left it; nothing had been disturbed.  He stepped behind the partially closed door and raised his voice in a tone of shocked surprise. 

"Steward, in here....  Quickly man."

As the steward pushed through the door at a run, he hit him with a single blow, below and slightly behind his left ear.  Catching the unconscious steward as he fell, he lowered him silently to the floor.  Then, with a knee braced in the middle of the man's shoulder blades, he took his chin in one hand and the top of his head in the other and gave a sharp twist, breaking his neck with a loud crack.

A check of the man's pockets revealed that his name had been Nicols.  He stripped the uniform off the body and hurriedly began to exchange his own clothes for it.  The uniform was not a bad fit but Nicols had not been quite as broad as himself and furthermore, his own clothes had been carefully tailored to provide special pockets for equipment and weapons.  He had some difficulty in finding places to conceal this kit around the well-fitting steward’s uniform, and he piled the more impossible items in a heap on the bed.  Then he took a small case, about the size of an attaché case, from the back of one of the cupboards and placed it on the bed as well.  Rapidly but methodically, he began to go through the contents of the case, discarding some items and replacing them with ones from the heap.

When he had completed this task to his satisfaction, he snapped shut the locks on the case and placed it by the door.  The surplus equipment went into the disposal chute along with the rest of his clothes.  There had to be nothing left in the cabin that would give a clue as to its occupant.  Nicols's body was a little more awkward. It could not be discovered in this cabin as it would automatically make him the prime suspect and he had no time to erase his records from the liner's computers.

Cautiously he opened the cabin door a crack and checked the corridor.  It was deserted: the state of emergency must still be in force.  He picked a door at random, further down the corridor and far enough away for there to be no obvious connection with his own.  He went across to it and listened but there was no sound, so using the master key from Nicols's pocket, he opened it up and checked inside to see that it was deserted.  Leaving the door ajar, he returned to his own cabin, lifted Nicols's body onto his shoulder and made the return trip at the best run he could manage under such a load.  He dumped the body in the wardrobe and closed the door, as a final touch, welding the lock shut with his needle laser.

That should, he thought, buy him a little more time before the investigations began and by that time he had to be away.  His steward’s uniform would allow him free passage around the Aldebaran but it was not going to be sufficient to get him off the liner.  To do that he was going to have to join His Imperial Majesty's Navy, a risky move but definitely the one which offered the best chance of success in his mission.  So, having come to this conclusion, the execution of the plan required that he spend a few minutes alone with a suitable member of the Cleopatra's crew, and they were currently spread all over the liner with the Search Parties.

First things first.  He picked up the attaché case and headed for the auxiliary airlock.  He gave the area around the Astrodome a wide berth and managed to avoid seeing more than a handful of the other crew.  Those he did meet, he passed with a wave or a nod and hurried on before they could start a conversation.

He slowed his pace as he approached the corridor leading to the airlock and listened carefully at the corner.  There were no sounds to be heard but he had not survived this long by taking unnecessary risks. He used a miniature fish-eye lens on a fibre-optic cable to peer round the edge and quickly withdrew again as he saw the armed rating on guard by the airlock controls.

He was not surprised to see the guard: the captain of the corvette had not sounded like a fool, but it had been worth a try.  He used the viewer again to study the guard.  He was dressed in full space armour, including helmet with the blast shield lowered.  That would be a positive aid to his impersonating the man if only he could take his place but, unfortunately, the armour also meant that the guard was largely invulnerable to the meagre weapons he had available.

He thought for a moment.  The guard was standing with his back to the airlock, facing down the short corridor, and cradling a wicked looking laser rifle in his arms.  So, surprise was impossible and attack from a distance was not on because of the space armour.  It would have to be bluff and gas, and hope that the man was feeling secure enough within the Life Support Environment of the Aldebaran, not to be using his internal air supply.

He opened the attaché case quietly and from one of the small compartments, carefully selected a small phial which he palmed, and two plugs which he fitted into his nostrils.  Then he picked up the case and, head down, hurried round the corner to be brought up in feigned surprise by the peremptory challenge.

"Halt!  In the name of His Imperial Majesty."

"Cor blimey.  You didn't 'arf give me a start there.  I weren't expecting to see no-one down 'ere.  I thought you lot was all off chasing them bloody pirates."

"What's your business here?"

"Uh.... Oh yeah.  I was told to bring this case down 'ere."  He showed it to the guard and winked.  "Seems like you got a passenger coming on board.  A Princess, as how I 'ears it."

“Is that so?   Well you just wait there while I check it out with Control."