Ричард Бейкер - Valiant Dust

Ranya thought it over for a moment, then nodded. “The Shihab will do. Take me there, please.”

“Yes, Amira.” Zakur nodded to the pilot, who banked sharply and turned the flyer away from the coast, heading out over the Silver Sea.

Sikander glanced out the window at the gleaming white walls of El-Badi, quickly falling behind them. He wondered whether the palace would still be standing the next time he saw it, and whether Ranya would be safe anywhere on Gadira today. Salem el-Fasi’s forces or Caidist insurgents probably didn’t have the means to locate or attack her if Shihab stayed well out to sea, but what about el-Fasi’s Dremish friends? If he was right about their intentions, then it was only a matter of time before Dremark moved in force. And what does Captain Markham do then? Just how far do her orders extend?

Ranya noticed his silence. “What is it?”

“I hate to leave under these circumstances, but I can’t stay on Shihab, ” Sikander told her. “I think I need to get back to my ship.”

20

CSS Hector, Gadira II Orbit

An hour after seeing Ranya el-Nasir safely to Shihab, Sikander and Darvesh returned to Hector. The sailing yacht’s tiny landing spot couldn’t accommodate the cruiser’s shuttle, so Petty Officer Long had been obliged to land in the water beside Shihab and bring the shuttle alongside so that Sikander could board. Ranya had sent him off with a chaste kiss on the cheek, since a large number of very anxious Royal Guards watched over her like eagles guarding their nest. The last Sikander had seen of her, she was hurrying down to the yacht’s command facilities as Shihab furled her sails and lifted her hull up out of the water on her induction drive, headed for the crowded shipping lanes in the open ocean south of Tanjeer. If el-Fasi’s forces received any kind of orbital feed from their Dremish allies, blending in with other shipping would be the best way for Ranya to conceal her exact location.

The instant Long settled the shuttle into the hangar bay’s docking cradle, Sikander headed straight for the captain’s cabin. He still wore his battle-dress uniform and carried a noticeable aroma of smoke with him, but he thought that Markham would agree that the circumstances dictated a timely report. He took a moment to doff his cap and run a hand through his hair outside her door, then knocked and entered. “Captain?” he said. “I am back on board.”

Markham looked up. She was not alone—Peter Chatburn sat across the desk from her. Evidently they had been in the middle of a conversation. She took in his unusual appearance with one raised eyebrow, and nodded. “So I see. What’s the news from the ground, Mr. North? Any word about the sultan?”

“The last I heard, he was in the Khalifa Palace at Toutay,” Sikander replied. “I am afraid that a mob in Tanjeer overran El-Badi Palace, but Amira Ranya is safe for the moment. I left her on board the royal yacht, which should keep her well out of reach of urban insurgents.”

“Your news is a little out of date, Mr. North,” Chatburn observed. “The insurgents no longer hold El-Badi. Apparently Salem el-Fasi’s forces moved in and recaptured the palace shortly after the amira fled the scene.”

“I hadn’t heard that, XO,” Sikander admitted. Conditions on the ground changed rapidly today, it seemed. “However, that brings me to the real problem facing us today: Dremark.” He quickly recounted his encounter with Bleindel in the warehouse at Meknez, the appearance of el-Fasi’s troops in Tanjeer, the defense of the palace, and Ranya’s description of Bleindel’s dealings with Bey Salem. “I think we are facing a wide-ranging Dremish plot,” he concluded. “First they arm the rebel elements, then they choose a new strongman to support when the el-Nasir sultanate crumbles. If they haven’t landed Imperial troops to support el-Fasi yet, then they will do so soon.”

“I don’t know,” Chatburn said slowly. “The fact that this Bleindel character was associated with el-Fasi doesn’t mean that he coordinated the whole thing. For all we know, he merely rented el-Fasi’s facilities to deliver the arms aboard Oristani Caravan. Corruption is endemic here.”

“I would agree, sir, except for the fact that el-Fasi’s forces were waiting in Tanjeer this morning for trouble to break out,” said Sikander. “The bey knew ahead of time that the insurgents planned a major uprising today and pre-positioned his forces. Either he is coordinating directly with the Caidists—which seems unlikely, since he claims that he’s taking over in order to defeat them—or some other party is arranging events and making use of them both.”

Captain Markham leaned back in her chair, a thoughtful frown on her face. “And let’s not forget that SMS Panther and SMS General von Grolmann have also conveniently arranged to be on hand for this moment. They weren’t sent here by accident—the Dremish thought that their warships might be needed in Gadira. One wonders how they knew.”

“Damn,” Chatburn muttered. “What do we do if they put troops on the ground?”

“Let’s hope that we can persuade them to avoid further escalations,” Markham replied. She looked at Sikander. “Thank you for your report, Mr. North. Get something to eat and take the opportunity to rest if you can; I’ve a feeling this is merely the beginning, and I will need you at your best later.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sikander stood, saluted, and left.

As per the captain’s orders, he stopped by the wardroom for a hot sandwich before returning to his cabin to shower and change. His anxiety about events on the ground didn’t allow him to sleep for long, but he catnapped, and dozed off daydreaming about swimming with Ranya amid the sea flowers of Socotra. He awoke feeling much better—a hot meal, a shower, and some rest had dispelled most of his fatigue.

When he returned to his station on the bridge, Sikander found the compartment already three-quarters full. Most of Hiram Randall’s Operations Department specialists stood at their posts, carefully monitoring Hector ’s orbital reconnaissance drones and doing their best to keep up with events on the ground. Captain Markham and Commander Chatburn were on hand as well; the ship’s senior officers congregated around the center of the action. For his own part, Sikander suspected that he had plenty of routine work to catch up on after being absent for a couple of days, but it could wait for now. He’d spent more time on the ground than anyone else on Hector, and the captain might need his insights and observations.

Lieutenant Commander Randall glanced up as he paused to study the displays. “Welcome back, Sikander,” he said. “Nice work at the palace. El-Fasi’s troops are turning Tanjeer upside down looking for the amira.”

“Thanks, Hiram,” Sikander replied. If nothing else, it seemed he’d finally earned the operations officer’s respect. He studied the tactical displays for a moment, focusing on Panther and General von Grolmann. “What have the Dremish been up to in all of this?”

“Early this morning, the transport began launching reconnaissance flyovers around the major cities. They’ve also landed observation and contact teams, especially around the capital.” Randall motioned at the main bridge display, which showed an overhead image of the city of Tanjeer with the positions of different forces marked.

Sikander nodded. Aggressive reconnaissance was the least he expected from the Dremish warships. “Are there any new developments with el-Fasi’s forces?”

“Well, they re-seized the arms shipment Ms. Larkin’s landing party impounded in Meknez. Around the planet, they’re securing government buildings and transit hubs. There’s fighting in some places between Royal Guard units and el-Fasi’s troops, but in other places they’re cooperating to quell the insurgents. It looks pretty confused to me.”