It took most of a week to get from Ariadne Base to Hasen 5. Edmus Alland spent most of that time in the medical suite. The medication cured the fever, but he was still malnourished. Kalan had planned to get the details of what had happened on the base from him, but Edmus was unconscious most of the time. When he wasn’t sleeping, he was eating. Kalan knew that a more advanced medical facility could have done more for him, but at least the man no longer looked like he was verging on death. Edmus’ own government would have to get the details from the man.
Kalan also gave Fresia another full day of freedom before he resumed her training. He still pushed her hard, but nothing on the level of those first, grueling weeks. The AI casually informed him that her reflexes and retention had bounced back to their previous levels. That was good news, but not the thing that Kalan cared the most about. There were several small, subtle changes in Fresia. She stood a little straighter. She met people’s eyes with more confidence. When faced with things she hadn’t done before, she tackled them with an implicit attitude that she could and would complete them. She hadn’t been transformed, but she was growing in the ways that Kalan had, if not planned on, then hoped she would grow.
Their shared experience on Ariadne base had also subtly reshaped Petronan’s behavior. The engineer had started to make a point to come up to the bridge at least once a day. Sometimes, he’d chat with Kalan. Sometimes, he’d ask Em questions about his construction, function, or programming. Once, he even helped Fresia work through a mathematical problem that was stubbornly resisting her efforts to solve it. Kalan had asked the ship about the problem after the fact. It was likely child’s play for the engineer, but he’d taken it as seriously as Fresia. It took Kalan a few days to realize that his random assortment of employees was gelling into something more like the crews he had served with on other ships. He hadn’t set out to make it happen, but Kalan thought there were far worse results from facing a conflict together.
By the time they reached Hasen 5, the crew was settling into something akin to a routine. Kalan had never been to the planet before, so he was a little distressed to discover that there were no orbital stations. With his last experience on a planet so fresh in his mind, he wasn’t thrilled by the prospect of landing on another. The one piece of good news was that the Kesselian Alliance did have a small embassy in the capital, which was where he needed to go anyway. At least he’d be able to get two things out of the way as quickly as possible. After that, he could pick up their cargo and get the ship en route back to Cobalt 7. Although, he suspected that Fresia would want to go out and see the capital for a few hours now that she’d gotten her first round of pay from him. Well, he supposed she hadn’t gotten it from him, yet, but it should credit to her account before they touched down. It wasn’t a lot of spending money, but she could get herself something to mark the occasion. Once he started thinking about her wandering around by herself, he found the idea less and less appealing. He took a walk down to engineering while Em got the ship situated at the port.
“Chief,” said Kalan through the open hatch.
Petronan looked up from the screen he was studying and nodded respectfully. “Sir?”
“Are you planning to spend any time off ship while we’re here?”
“I hadn’t planned on it, sir. There’s nothing I really need that can’t wait until we get back to Cobalt 7. Plus, Hasen 5 doesn’t have that much to offer.”
“I’m sure you’re right about that. Still, Fresia will probably want to go explore while I deal with our guest and the courier delivery. Would you mind going with her?”
Petronan raised an eyebrow. “I guess I could.”
“It’s not an order, chief, just a favor. She’s never been off Cobalt 7 before.”
A look of comprehension descended over the chief’s face. “Oh, of course. We don’t need her learning about cities the hard way.”
“My thinking exactly.”
“Aye, sir. I can go along and help steer her away from any,” the chief smiled a little, “unsavory elements.”
“Thank you, chief. I owe you one.”
“Not at all, sir. Old salts like me need to watch out for the young ones, or they’ll never get to be old salts themselves.”
Kalan’s mind stumbled over the odd turn of phrase. “Old salt, chief?”
Petronan let out a soft laugh. “It’s an old, old term, sir. Goes all the way back to when people sailed wooden boats on actual oceans. An old salt is just a sailor with a lot of years on the sea. Lot of tradition in a navy. Funny old phrases like that are part of it.”
“I didn’t know that. Old salt,” said Kalan, liking the way the archaic phrase sounded. “I’ll have to remember that. I’ll be off ship for several hours. I imagine the staff at the Kesselian Alliance embassy will have a lot of questions. Should give Fresia enough time to waste some of her money.”
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“I expect so, sir. I’ll make sure we don’t wander for too long. I know we’ve got cargo to fetch yet today.”
“Very good.”
Kalan gave the chief a nod and then went to fetch Edmus from the bunk where they’d stuck him for the last day or so. The man had taken the opportunity to clean his clothes and undertake a thorough shave. He still looked gaunt to Kalan without a beard to give his face some weight. Potanga would have surely been appalled at the state of the man. Still, he was positively glowing with health compared to when he arrived. Take your victories where you find them, Kalan reminded himself. You can’t fix everything. Edmus fell into step beside Kalan as they departed the ship and began the tedious process of entry onto the planet. The fact that neither man was bringing so much as a bag through sped things along a bit, though. The security forces in the port eyed Kalan’s weapon belt thoughtfully but didn’t make an issue of it. Kalan had checked ahead of time and the weapons were permitted, if uncommon for visitors. Edmus didn’t say anything to Kalan until they were sitting alone in a local transport vehicle.
“I owe you my life,” the man said.
Kalan wanted to brush the declaration aside but knew better. “If you want to see it that way. I needed someone to sign for that medicine, someone who legitimately could sign for it. Otherwise, I couldn’t get paid. Bringing you back with us was just a very convenient way for me to take my vengeance on those mutineers.”
“Traitors. They were traitors and cowards. I plan to see every last one of them executed under the law.”
There was so much white-hot vitriol in those words that Kalan was surprised by the calm expression on the man’s face.
“For the best, I expect,” he offered.
“I won’t forget what you did for me. My family won’t forget. Honor isn’t dead in Kesselian space, yet, and the Alland family pays its debts.”
Kalan sensed there was more to the man’s words than the surface meaning, a lot more in all likelihood, but he hadn’t spent much time inside of Kesselian Alliance territory. He’d had a few jobs that took him there, but those brief weeks weren’t even close to enough to understand the local politics or the culture. He weighed his response before offering a slow nod.
“Honor is an unyielding master. I certainly won’t stand in the way of it. Although, I do hope that you never need to repay such a debt.”
Edmus offered Kalan a faint smile. “Youth hasn’t deprived you of wisdom. I don’t suppose you’re taking on crew at the moment. My sons could use a little of that influence. My daughters, too, for that matter.”
Kalan snorted and the other man shot him a questioning look.
“I’m spoiled for choices of crew just lately. Truth be told, I don’t usually run a big crew, though the gods know I would have appreciated more hands on that accursed base.”
“How did you manage to stand off that rabble?”
Kalan thought it over for a moment. “Fear, mostly. When I made it clear that taking my ship was going to cost a lot of them in blood, it carved the pirate right out of most of them.”
Edmus shook his head. “If I’d had even three men like you, you would have received a very different reception.”
“Your people didn’t acquit themselves well?”
“No, it’s not that. They were willing enough to fight, but they weren’t soldiers. I doubt even one of them had ever taken a life. They certainly weren’t warriors like you,” said Edmus, holding up a hand to forestall Kalan. “No, I don’t know exactly what you are or where you trained, but I know the way a warrior moves. You most certainly trained somewhere. Or have I misread you?”
Kalan suppressed a sigh. “You haven’t misread me.”
Edmus nodded to himself. “Now, though, you’re a ship’s captain. Odd. Very odd, indeed.”
Kalan might have followed up on that, but the transport pulled to a stop outside a squat building. There was a heavy gate and a guardhouse. Kalan saw at least three men inside the guardhouse, which made him think there were at least that many he couldn’t see stationed out of sight. Kalan paid the transport’s bot driver before the two men got out and walked over to the guardhouse. Kalan hung back while Edmus spoke to one of the guards. There was a flurry of activity and the gate swung open. Edmus walked through the gate and gestured that Kalan should follow. Kalan felt his eyebrow lift in curiosity. The guards hadn’t asked him a single question or demanded he leave his weapons behind. He closed the distance with Edmus as they approached the building. When the front door slammed open and half a dozen people poured out, Kalan’s hand had pulled his blaster before conscious thought got its say. He dashed forward to put himself between Edmus and the group. He leveled the blaster at them, which ground their approach to a dead stop.
One of the group, a plump man with a weak chin he tried in vain to hide with a thin beard, looked past Kalan. He held out an imploring hand.
“My Lord Alland! It’s such an honor to have you here. Can you please ask your,” the man peered at Kalan in utter bewilderment, “bodyguard to put away his weapon?”
Kalan glanced over his shoulder at Edmus, who nodded that it was fine. Kalan holstered the blaster. Edmus stepped up beside him.
“Warrior,” said Edmus in a quiet voice.
“Lord Alland?” Kalan asked in an equally quiet voice.
Edmus rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yes, Lord Edmus Cartanian Penniwell Alexius Alland. Defender of the so on and so forth. Grand this and that. Duke of the interminable titles. Honestly, it takes me an age to sign anything. It’s probably why I avoid it as much as possible.”
“What in the world were you doing on that base?”
“If I was at home, they’d be trying to make me sign things. So, I went somewhere else. As far from all that paperwork as I could get.”
Kalan almost managed to suppress a smile. Almost. Edmus noticed and gave Kalan a surreptitious wink.
“Let’s go feed the dogs,” said Edmus, stepping closer to the embassy staff. “Ambassador?”
“Calman. Horand Calman, my lord. Let me be the first to welcome you to Hasen 5.”
“Ambassador Calman, thank you. I do wish this visit were happening under happier circumstances, but I’m afraid I have ill news that would be best delivered somewhere more private.”
Kalan watched as the ambassador put on a completely unconvincing expression of horror and incredulity. Beneath that expression, though, Kalan caught the unrepentant glee of a natural-born gossip. Thank the gods that they didn’t have to deliver news that required secrecy, he mused. Anything they told this man would be public information inside a day. He glanced at Edmus, who wore a perfectly neutral expression. The nobleman had probably sized the ambassador up while he and Kalan were chatting. Kalan fell in beside the duke as the ambassador led them inside.