South of the Ecliptic. Donald Ph.D. Ladew
the King that left little to be told.
At the end of the interview he spoke candidly. "Look, Sir Aubrey, Claren Trone is your best bet. He was the old Federation's most determined enemy. It was Trone who pushed to have all surviving Legionnaires executed as a war criminals. He stays in the background and has great influence with the Star Lords."
"Is there any connection between him and the Worlds in the Dark?" Piehl asked.
"Of course. He's the silent but controlling partner in Far Reach Trading and Shipping."
Bloody hell! Piehl thought. That's the biggest shipping company in the Imperium.
"What is not generally known," the Broker went on, "is that he acts as a connection to all the riff-raff in the Dark Worlds, through the Out Worlds Trading Company. It's well hidden but he's the one who owns and controls it."
As Piehl and the sergeant made their way back to the docking bay Piehl realized he wasn't surprised by anything he'd heard. The problem was what would he do with it?
Chapter 7
Piehl decided to pull everybody in close until they were in space. At the ship Piehl took a quick status report from Shorty.
"It goes well, Captain. We should be done this evening except for some minor cleanup and a final load of stores."
"We're going to skip shake-down, Shorty, so there can't be any room for error." Piehl stood and walked over to a tool locker. He removed a bottle of brandy he knew Shorty kept hidden there, for ‘emergencies’, poured himself a shot and one for Shorty.
Shorty chuckled. He never had been able to put anything over on Piehl.
"Captain, the boys have been extra careful. They've double and triple-checked everything. I even cleared the docking bay and ran the back-up engine at standby power. It went fine. I realize it's not one hundred percent military power, but if I say it'll go, it'll go."
"I know, Shorty. You and your men have done miracles. I'll go forward now, see how the IMP is shaking down."
As Piehl moved toward the ship he stopped and stared at it as if he was seeing it for the first time.
I'll be damned. How the devil did I miss it. The men had put three coats of metal-seal in the green, black and gold of the Legion on the ship. Then they polished it to a high gloss.
By all the gods great and small, that's how a ship should look.
Their only concession to the times was a small Imperial Merchant flag away forward. Piehl was surprised they hadn't painted the full-sized Mars Legion sigil across the center of the hull.
He knew it was somewhere on the ship, no way they'd leave it off.
Piehl laughed to himself. If it wasn't for the Imperial seals and the correct codes some nervous captain in the Imperial Fleet will surely try to blow us out of the sky as soon as we leave the planet. Probably think he's in a time-distort, back in the old wars.
When Piehl reached the flight deck he spoke quietly. "IMP, bring me up to date."
"I am 99.93% fully integrated. I have done a down-load of all primary data copies to the back-up block in the aft hold."
"Good. Stand by, I'm going to transfer all data and events of the last four days. I want an interpretive study with a report. I'll take it in my quarters later." Piehl was brisk. He slotted a data cube into Imp’s reader.
"Right, Captain."
"Pass the word, all work crew and ship's crew in the docking bay at 21:00 hours. We'll party. There's a lot of M.L. troopers around the docking area. I want to bring in as many of them as possible.
Piehl went to the flight deck and was surprised to find every seat manned except for the captain's console. The Whistler had taken station in the Astrogator's cube and Flex was at the copilot's station. The Sufic major had Environmental Systems and Damage Control. The Lady Lociranou looking delicious in her light-weight jump suit was at the comm control center. Finally there was the sergeant, quite at home through the forward hatch, warming up the weapons control systems.
The Sufic major came to attention and everyone else stood by their positions.
"Captain's on deck!" The sergeant bellowed.
"Ease up, gentlemen, ladies. This isn't Legion cruiser. I’m not getting ready for a inspection."
They sat down, grinning. Piehl knew someone had put them up to it. Probably Flex. He wasn't displeased.
"What's this all about, Whistler?"
His pelt rippled rhythmically. "We have been running through several of the flight drills, sir. We're cross training positions, Captain."
Piehl sat down in the captain's chair and keyed in the overview. "Alright, Mr. Ing, carry on."
Piehl's eyes kept going to the Lady Lociranou. Great legs! Very trim, and a cute way of biting her lip when she concentrates. Damn, this won't do. How the hell am I going to avoid her once we're in space.
She turned and looked at Piehl. Then as Piehl continued to look she blushed and turned back to her console.
"IMP, everyone one up here seems to be posted. What's the Princess doing?"
"Aside from making strange facial gestures and body movements in the direction of Mr. Holtzman, which I interpret to be human/sexual in content, she has taken over the galley and ship's stores. I must say, sir, she does well. She wouldn't let the men throw away anything."
Making eyes at Flex, Piehl thought. She is what, seventeen. Not my problem. They'll have to work things out for themselves. Ahhh, for the good old days when all you had to worry about was being vaporized by the enemy or eaten alive by an admiral.
Piehl got out of his chair, slipped quietly off the bridge and headed aft to his cabin.
"IMP?"
"Yes, Captain."
"Did you scan the trade goods for anomalies before loading."
"Yes, so far it is clean."
"All right, keep a sharp eye. That would be the obvious way to slip something aboard."
"Aye, Captain."
"I'm going down-time for a couple hours. Keep me posted."
"Aye, aye, Captain."
Piehl woke a few hours later, had a quick turn in the fresher and changed to a ship's uniform, the multi-pocketed, jumpsuit used throughout space. He looked in the mirror and wondered what the Lady Lociranou could want with a burned out middle-aged ex-general, a losing general at that. He knew the emotional reasons, but what looked back at him from the mirror wasn't the stuff of which Holo stars were made.
His hair and beard were salted gray. At the moment, deep-set eyes weary with fatigue; not a very romantic picture.
Ah well, he mused, better this way. The last thing I need is involvement with a woman, any woman.
Piehl went over to his personal locker and removed the battered case that held his 'Syrinx'. Piehl ran his hands over the old case, remembering the good songs and the different places he'd played. He put his index fingers on the translucent metal strip along the edge of the case and moved hands and fingers outwards towards the edge thinking the name of the instrument as he'd been taught.
It opened quietly. A Syrinx is large for a lap instrument. To Piehl it felt alive. He thought soft then ran his fingers easily up and down the frets, picking out an old Earth folk song. It sensed his intent and tripped through each melodic line in counterpoint.
Good, cheerful stuff. The hands and the heart remembered. He sat for a few moments and went over the old Legion songs the men would request. They liked drinking-songs, fighting songs, songs of brave ships and men, and