The Prisoner of Eldaron: Crimson Worlds Successors II by Jay Allan Page A

one of his retainers, sharing his bed half out of awe at snaring Vallen’s interest and half out of intimidation, about the fear of what a refusal would have meant to her family’s position.
    “Shut up,” Vallen snapped at her, his voice dripping with venom. He’d enjoyed the lopsided nature of their relationship. Boris Vallen was a bully at heart, and now that he was standing here and submitting to these Marines, his anger had to come out somewhere.
    “That is not necessary, Mr. Vallen,” the Captain said sharply. He turned toward the girl. “You will be released as soon as we leave. You are to return to your quarters and remain there until you receive other instructions.” His tone was softer, not quite soothing, but close enough for a Marine in full combat gear.
    He turned and stared at Vallen, momentarily allowing his true feelings to slip onto his face. “Hardesty, Jamis…please help Mr. Vallen get to his feet and assist him in getting dressed. We are on a timetable.” He stood there and watched as the two burly Marines grabbed Vallen’s shoulders and half-walked, half-pushed the whimpering man toward the closet.
    “You can go,” he said softly to the still-sobbing girl. “Go home…and stay there for the rest of the day.”
     
    *  *  *  *  *
     
    “Admiral Campbell, sir…” The sentry was clearly surprised when Campbell emerged from the shuttle’s hatch, but he quickly snapped to attention. “It is quite a surprise to see you, sir.” Duncan Campbell was a legend in the Martian navy, but he had been retired for several years, and now he was standing in John Carter’s shuttle bay, clad in his full dress uniform.
    Duncan Campbell nodded and smiled. “As you were, crewman. I’m just here to pay a visit with Admiral Melander.”
    “Yes, sir…welcome aboard. I will advise Admiral Melander that you have arrived.”
    Campbell nodded, struggling to keep his face from betraying the tension he felt. He knew Xavier Melander well. Indeed the top Martian admiral had been his protégé, and his self-chosen replacement when he’d finally stepped down from the top job. But friendship only went so far, and Campbell wasn’t sure how Melander would react to what he had to say.
    “That will be fine, crewman.”
    Tell him his old friend is here to lure him into a treasonous plot…
    The sentry turned toward the com unit and announced Campbell’s arrival. A few seconds later he turned toward the admiral and said, “Admiral Melander will see you immediately, sir. I will arrange an escort for...”
    “I think I remember my way to the admiral’s quarters well enough, crewman.” Those rooms had been Duncan Campbell’s home for many years.
    “Very well, sir. As you wish.” The sentry seemed uncomfortable letting so august a personality as the Confederation’s legendary fighting admiral walk alone through the corridors, but he simply stepped out of the way and stood at attention. Arguing with flag officers wasn’t in his job description.
    Campbell walked down the corridor toward the central lifts. He knew he could take one of the intraship cars, but he preferred to walk. To procrastinate. You’re in no rush to see if your friend of thirty years has you clapped in irons .
    The corridor was long. It was almost half a kilometer from Carter’s shuttle bay to the main lift. The Martian behemoth, and her sister ship Sword of Ares were the largest and most powerful vessels ever built by man, eclipsing even the Alliance’s vaunted Yorktown class battlewagons. But the Yorktowns were all gone, the last of them during the Second Incursion, along with Sword of Ares . John Carter was a vestige of a lost time, before the Fall, when mankind’s industry and military might was vastly superior to what it had become. Carter was a symbol, a statement to any who looked upon her awesome presence that the Martian Confederation alone retained the power to field such a ship. It was an image that required one to forget the