thoughts.”
She knew already his distress, for they were life-mates, joined forever.
“Do not fear this man. The brother is honorable,” Princess Micah whispered. “I knew his mate, Princess Shalee Raja of the Shonedren. So very beautiful, she was, and her loss, a terrible tragedy for him.”
“Then you concur, we should go?”
“We must, my love.”
Korwin walked his wife forward and up the ramp to the bridge of the shuttle Katana, where he ordered, “Captain Acker? We must detour.”
Korwin sat at the communication station behind the pilot, while Princess Micah settled down at the copilot seat. Via the Republic Ambassadorial channels, Prince Korwin connected to Thresher .
Captain McHale responded, “Mr. Ambassador, it’s too dangerous. Send a decoy. Don’t go.”
“Nonsense... A doctor is needed and I am a doctor. Transmit the co-ordinates for the planetoid please.”
McHale ordered the helm to do so.
“And the location in the caverns.”
McHale wondered, “How did you learn of this?”
“I am Alphan, Captain. We have ways. Katana will rendezvous with Thresher at the conference. No doubt we will miss the opening ceremony. Please advise security. Kord out.”
“Aye, sir,” McHale responded.
To Captain Acker, Ambassador Kord ordered, “Maximum speed.”
The Dagger Class shuttle jumped easily to interstellar, Level 6.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Kieran Jai instantly hated the fat man, but couldn’t let the Spaceport Commissioner know it. Stevenson had his fiefdom; he also had limits that Commodores in the Star Service Intelligence Division didn’t.
“Commissioner, I can pull rank on you, if I must. The security of this sector may be in jeopardy. Thousands of delegates are coming to The Crossroads Great Conference.
“In a few days, every landing bay you have will be needed for the ambassadorial ships. All I’m asking is for Hawk and his ship to be gone by 0700 hours tomorrow.”
Stevenson balked. “Commodore, this is a public facility. I cannot throw out a paying privateer, like stale bar chips. Hawk has done nothing. You would need to charge him, or a member of his crew, with a crime. Your ‘gut feeling’ isn’t enough.”
“Throw him out and he will lead us to a smuggler’s stronghold,” the Commodore insisted.
“You don’t know that,” Stevenson protested, pounding an oversized hand on his oversized desk, bolting to his feet.
“I suspect it; that is enough,” Kieran said, crossing to the viewport. Stevenson’s office window had a commanding view overlooking the public sector of the Tonner III ground facilities. At the massive compound in the distance, joined to the administrative building by subterranean tunnels, Kieran could barely see the private Hale Star Yards yacht, Kal-King , on landing Bay 95.
He’d done more investigating. Kal-King had arrived the day before Seraph crashed. They hadn’t brought an ambassador, had declared no cargo and, other than refueling, had no good reason to be at Tonner III the week before a massive governance conference.
“I want Hawk and his ship gone, and I want one of my people aboard,” Kieran decided.
Stevenson scoffed, “That’s impossible.”
“Find some excuse, some infraction, or invent one — perhaps another ship due to arrive that needs the bay — whichever you choose.”
Kieran turned away from the viewport. “There’s one more matter we need to discuss. About Seraph ? What happened to the Ambassador’s possessions and Captain Cartwright’s personal effects?”
Stevenson swallowed hard, snorting, “Wasn’t much left.”
“Where’s the Sterillian blade? Dana said it was confiscated at the medical center.”
Stevenson reluctantly dug in his desk and handed it over.
Kieran secreted the dagger in his boot, demanding, “Have everything else delivered my ship, Kaiden , in an hour.”
“Commodore, you have no authority to…”
SSID officers did, and the Spaceport Commissioner knew it.
“By 0700
She knew already his distress, for they were life-mates, joined forever.
“Do not fear this man. The brother is honorable,” Princess Micah whispered. “I knew his mate, Princess Shalee Raja of the Shonedren. So very beautiful, she was, and her loss, a terrible tragedy for him.”
“Then you concur, we should go?”
“We must, my love.”
Korwin walked his wife forward and up the ramp to the bridge of the shuttle Katana, where he ordered, “Captain Acker? We must detour.”
Korwin sat at the communication station behind the pilot, while Princess Micah settled down at the copilot seat. Via the Republic Ambassadorial channels, Prince Korwin connected to Thresher .
Captain McHale responded, “Mr. Ambassador, it’s too dangerous. Send a decoy. Don’t go.”
“Nonsense... A doctor is needed and I am a doctor. Transmit the co-ordinates for the planetoid please.”
McHale ordered the helm to do so.
“And the location in the caverns.”
McHale wondered, “How did you learn of this?”
“I am Alphan, Captain. We have ways. Katana will rendezvous with Thresher at the conference. No doubt we will miss the opening ceremony. Please advise security. Kord out.”
“Aye, sir,” McHale responded.
To Captain Acker, Ambassador Kord ordered, “Maximum speed.”
The Dagger Class shuttle jumped easily to interstellar, Level 6.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Kieran Jai instantly hated the fat man, but couldn’t let the Spaceport Commissioner know it. Stevenson had his fiefdom; he also had limits that Commodores in the Star Service Intelligence Division didn’t.
“Commissioner, I can pull rank on you, if I must. The security of this sector may be in jeopardy. Thousands of delegates are coming to The Crossroads Great Conference.
“In a few days, every landing bay you have will be needed for the ambassadorial ships. All I’m asking is for Hawk and his ship to be gone by 0700 hours tomorrow.”
Stevenson balked. “Commodore, this is a public facility. I cannot throw out a paying privateer, like stale bar chips. Hawk has done nothing. You would need to charge him, or a member of his crew, with a crime. Your ‘gut feeling’ isn’t enough.”
“Throw him out and he will lead us to a smuggler’s stronghold,” the Commodore insisted.
“You don’t know that,” Stevenson protested, pounding an oversized hand on his oversized desk, bolting to his feet.
“I suspect it; that is enough,” Kieran said, crossing to the viewport. Stevenson’s office window had a commanding view overlooking the public sector of the Tonner III ground facilities. At the massive compound in the distance, joined to the administrative building by subterranean tunnels, Kieran could barely see the private Hale Star Yards yacht, Kal-King , on landing Bay 95.
He’d done more investigating. Kal-King had arrived the day before Seraph crashed. They hadn’t brought an ambassador, had declared no cargo and, other than refueling, had no good reason to be at Tonner III the week before a massive governance conference.
“I want Hawk and his ship gone, and I want one of my people aboard,” Kieran decided.
Stevenson scoffed, “That’s impossible.”
“Find some excuse, some infraction, or invent one — perhaps another ship due to arrive that needs the bay — whichever you choose.”
Kieran turned away from the viewport. “There’s one more matter we need to discuss. About Seraph ? What happened to the Ambassador’s possessions and Captain Cartwright’s personal effects?”
Stevenson swallowed hard, snorting, “Wasn’t much left.”
“Where’s the Sterillian blade? Dana said it was confiscated at the medical center.”
Stevenson reluctantly dug in his desk and handed it over.
Kieran secreted the dagger in his boot, demanding, “Have everything else delivered my ship, Kaiden , in an hour.”
“Commodore, you have no authority to…”
SSID officers did, and the Spaceport Commissioner knew it.
“By 0700
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