Spindrift
Chapter 1: The Ambassador

I paused before the cabin door; expected, but still hesitantto enter. The ambassador made meuncomfortable. I knew she didn’t intendto, but there was no denying it. Therewas also no avoiding it, so I straightened my uniform and knocked. There was no answer, but the lock clicked andthe door slid open. A palpable wave ofhumidity wrapped itself around me. In afew short minutes, my hair would droop and my uniform become unstarched. I sighed and entered.

The stateroom was different from the usual VIPquarters. There was no bed. In fact, there was little furniture exceptfor a couch, a table and a couple of chairs, including a hoverchair for herladyship’s mobility. What the chamberdid have that most do not was a heated pool.

The ambassador was at the bottom of that pool, reading. She surfaced, laid the tablet at the edge andsmiled up at me. I expected her to benaked, but her unclothed body still gave me a bit of a start. The Syrenka have always had difficultyunderstanding Terran mores about covering up. It didn’t help that she was beautiful, by both Terran and Syrenkanstandards. Her light blonde, silky hair waslong and straight; her large eyes a bright lavender-blue; her heart-shaped facea natural home for her smile. From herhips upwards, she was delightfully feminine. From there downwards, thoroughly aquatic, as it was with all native toher world. In place of legs, she had atail that was covered with bright golden scales and tapered to adelicate-seeming, swallow-tail shaped caudal fin. She also had translucent pelvic fins thathelped her to steer under water. Finally, hidden between her ribs were gill-slits which allowed her toremain immersed indefinitely.

“Good morning Lieutenant!” she said warmly. She pronounced my rank with an ‘f’ in the Terran Old World fashion.

“Good morning Madame Ambassador,” I replied, trying not tobetray any distraction. “The captainbids me tell you that we will be coming out of warp at 0900.”

“Drat! I suppose thatmeans I must get out of my pool and into that thing again.” She waveddismissively at the hoverchair.

“I’m afraid so. Butonly for a few minutes.”

“True, but there are things I must do afterwards that willkeep me out in the dry air. “ She pulledherself up from the water and sat on the edge of the pool. “Would you mind?” She stretched her arms toward me. I picked her up (she was quite light) andplaced her gently in the chair. Thoughmammalian and warm-blooded, her skin was cool to the touch. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I can handle myself from here; but do stickaround, please.”

“As you wish, Madame.”

“And stop being so formal, call me Ari. I’ll call you…” She looked up at me.

“Rhodri Morgan.”

“Morgan!” She giggledand flicked droplets of water from her tail fin. “Sounds positively piratical!”

“It’s Welsh.” I couldn’t help but smile, just like when I firstheard her speak.

“Wales, I was there once – my father had business there. A green and hilly place. I like hills. One would think that I’d hate them, but I don’t. Would you like for me to call you Rhod or Dri?“

I hadn’t really given it any thought. “Whatever you wish, Madame Ari.”

“Just Ari is fine. Ithink I prefer Dri. Are you sure that’salright with you?”

“Just fine, Ma…Ari.”

I locked her chair into a bulkhead bracket and then tookhold of a strap for myself. The exitfrom warp-space was uneventful and probably served to confirm her skepticismabout the necessity of leaving her pool. She quietly read through the whole process, which took about fiveminutes.

“Would you like to go back into the water?” The chair bounced slightly as I released itfrom the bulkhead.

“No time,” she sighed wistfully. “I need to see the captain and read my finalinstructions.”

I was about to knock on the door to the Captain’s quarterswhen Ari raised her hand. “Just amoment,” she whispered. She shifted inher chair and adjusted her modest top. “How do I look?” She asked ascasually as one would a brother or husband. The familiarity complemented and appalled me at the same time. We had only met the day before.

“You look devastating.”

“Ooo, that’s different, I think I like it!”

As junior lieutenant on the bridge of the Agamemnon, it was customary that I be incharge of seeing to the comfort of V.I.P.s aboard ship. This usually required knowing something aboutthem. I already knew that the Syrenkawere not the product of evolution, but gene manipulation of humans two and ahalf millennia ago, before such things were forbidden. Also, I found that their world, also namedSyrenka, is an ocean that covers ninety-eight percent of the planet’ssurface. The other two percent is madeof fragmented and sterile rock islands. The climate of both water and air is mild, which is probably why theancients chose not to bypass it. Instead, they made it into a prison, a sort of Botany Bay or Siberia,where political prisoners were altered in form and left in exile. When the old Technic civilization collapsed,the former prison thrived and built its own society. When the new Terran Empire rediscovered theSyrenca, they rejoined the human race.

Before our first meeting, I was warned that AmbassadorAriadne of Clan Spindrift was beyond charming and that I should stay as aloofas courtesy would allow. I was alsowarned that she had a reputation. Intruth, she had several: sly courtier,hard bargaining diplomat and notorious heart-breaker. Her wake was dotted with disappointed suitors(men and women). It was even rumoredthat the emperor himself sought to bed her, much to the chagrin of Her Majesty. Despite the warning and the rumors, I foundmyself immediately attracted to her; so quickly in fact that I was leftwondering about the truth of the old legends about sirens.

At our first meeting;during the formal dinner held in her honor in the Wardroom, I was very awkward. She laughed at me; however, there wassomething in her look that told me that no malice was intended. Now here I was with a pet name, givingopinions on her appearance. The Old Man won’t be pleased, if he notices. Anofficer in His Majesty’s Navy should have more reserve.

Captain Matthew Winslow, commander of the heavy cruiser IMS Agamemnonlooked the part: tall, distinguished andwith just enough gray hair and scarring to prove he wasn’t a desk officer orCourt favorite. His quarters were quiteplain, Spartan even, with the same ordinary, blue-gray, Navy-issue furniturethat could also be found in the lowest rating’s living space. He acknowledged my salute and then kissed theproffered hand of the Ambassador.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. You are dismissed.”

“Aye, sir.” I bowedand started to make my exit.

“Wait Captain, I would like for Dri to remain.”

I felt the blood rise to my face. Oh God,here it comes!

The captain looked confused, “Dri?”

“The lieutenant here, I’m taking him with me.”

The Old Man chuckled and shook his head. “Ari, you magnificent, scaly-assed bitch! What are you up to this time?”

His language startled me.

Her laugh was like tinkling glass. “Why nothing, Matthew, I just want to borrowhim for a few days.”

“I remember what happened last time you ‘borrowed’ one of mywatch officers.”

“Now, now, it wasn’t bad for his career…or yours.”

“It damn near killed him.” He looked directly at me. “Keep that in mind, Mister Morgan, before youvolunteer.”

“What do you say, Dri?” She smiled slyly.

“I’m here to serve His Majesty.”

“Of course,” said Captain Winslow.

“But I would like to know what’s going on.”

“So would we all. Ari?”

“I know a little, the rest depends on my orders.”

“Indeed.” The Captainsat at his desk and placed his palm on the door of the small safe imbedded inthe bulkhead behind it. With a click, itopened. He then took out a brownenvelope and handed it to the Ambassador. She opened it, scanned the contents, and then set them down. She looked up, her face grim.

“This is nastier than I thought. How long will it take us to get to Rii?”

“Rii? Hmm…not long,”said the Captain. “A short hop, and thenfour hours from the jump point to orbit. About six hours altogether.”

Ari nodded, “That will do nicely. I’ll finish reading this,” she tapped thedispatch, “and get back with you in about two hours, if that’s alright.”

Winslow smiled. “Noproblem.”

“Dri,” she turned to me. “Pack your dress formals and a discreteside-arm. We’re going to a party.”

I was back in Captain Winslow’s office in almost exactly twohours. Ari was already there.

The Old Man looked up. “Please pull up a seat, Lieutenant.”

Ari smiled at me, and then returned to what she wasdoing. “We will require an escort; asquad of Marines should suffice. Theymust be in full kit,” she said.

“Full kit? You meanpower armor and heavy weapons? ” said Winslow.

“Yes, I want them clanking, Matthew. An ounce of prevention…”

I nodded to myself. Intimidation is the oldest form ofdiplomacy.

“What do you think, Mister Morgan?”

“The Rii have little modern technology. The sight of Imperial troopers in power armorand heavy auto-weapons may cow them,” I said.

“The Rii don’t cow easily,” said Ari, “but it could givethem pause.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, what is our mission here?” I decided to just go ahead and come out withit, rather than have the information slowly dripped to me.

Ari giggled, “I thought you’d never ask.” Then she turned serious, “We received anurgent message from a free trader who lives among the Rii, by the name ofJustin Chang. He’s of the opinion thatsomething unpleasant is being cooked up here between certain Rii and one of themore powerful of the Pirate Kings.”

“Van Zant!”

“Good,” said Winslow. “It’s nice to know one of my officers actuallypays attention at briefings.”

Edgar Van Zant, A.K.A. Edgar the First, is the only law ontwelve systems. Blood-thirsty, ambitiousand restless are only three of a large number of adjectives that would fit thisunusual character.

“So Van Zant wants Rii,” I stated. “Why? It’s a dust ball. There’s barelyenough water for humans to live there. The Rii themselves are scarcely beyond the Iron Age.”

Ari smiled. “There’san old saying that applies to strategic studies as well as real estate: ‘Value comes of three things, location, location,location.’” She turned to the Captain,“Show him the chart, Matthew. The onewith the warp-jump routes.”

A hologram appeared over the desk where they sat. Red lines connected the star-systems, Riiflashed blue.

“Rii represents a bottle-neck,” said Winslow, “leading tothese five systems here. All the routesto and from them run within a parsec of Rii.” He made a circling motion withhis finger. “A handful of heavies basedout of here would cut all those systems off from us. Van Zant would increase his empire by fiftyper cent with hardly a shot fired. Takingthese worlds back could mean years, cost dozens of ships and millions oflives.”

I leaned back and shook my head. “That’s assuming we’d even bother. The Senate could decide that the Empiredoesn’t need these five systems. We’retrying to govern more than ten thousand worlds after all.”

“And thus five more worlds slip into the darkness,” saidAri. “The Pirates, especially Van Zanthimself, will be emboldened to reach for more, until war becomes the only choiceand more millions or even billions pay the price.”

“You understand what’s at stake here, Mister Morgan?” saidWinslow, grimly.

I sighed, “Absolutely.”

I was on the observation deck of the shuttle bay,supervising the loading of supplies and luggage into our shuttle. Captain Winslow stepped onto the deck,acknowledged my salute and leaned over the railing to look at the shuttle onthe flight deck below. He motioned meover to him.

“You may have noticed, she’s taken quite a fancy to you,” hesaid in a low voice. “That’s not socommon an occurrence as her reputation would suggest.”

I nodded, “What should I do, Sir?”

“Do?” He straightenedwhile looking across the bay at nothing in particular. “It’s too late to worry now. The ball’s in your hands.” He grinned and slapped my shoulder. “Run with it, my boy. Run with it. Do what she tells you and stay alive. It’s bound to be good for your career.”

Later, on the flight deck of the shuttle bay, I was making afinal inspection of our marine escort. Sergeant Windridge was running a diagnostic of each trooper’sarmor. Specifically, he was testing thecamouflage. Chameleon-like, each suit blendedinto the walls and deck of the bay.

“Alright! Switch ‘emoff!” barked the sergeant. Almostinstantly the armor changed to polished purple with the golden Imperialmonogram on each man’s chest.

“Very pretty!” Iturned to see Ari approaching in her chair. She wore a long white dress, cut very modestly, but with a red sashcinched in just the right place to accentuate her curves.

“But very deadly, Ma’am,” said Windridge.

“That’s exactly what I want, Sergeant,” she replied.

Each of the ten-man squad, including Windridge, was equippedwith one of these powered suits, capable of resisting anything but a direct, point-blankhit from a high-velocity bullet. Eightmen carried automatic rifles; one had a heavier version of that rifle, the lasta rocket-grenade launcher.

The shuttle pilot appeared briefly at the loading hatch,nodded to me and then saluted. A fewmoments later, the shuttle’s fusion turbines began to rev.

“Get the men aboard, Sergeant!” I shouted above the mounting noise. “It’s time to go!”

I accompanied Ari up the ramp after the marines, and thenclosed the hatch.

“All my things are on board?” she asked as she buckledherself in.

“Saw to it myself Ma’am,” I replied.

“Great! Then let’s beoff!”