He obediently slipped the bracelet over his wrist, examining the engraved picture on its surface as he did. “A phoenix?”
“A trinket; it means nothing. It serves only to identify you.” The bearded man took a few steps into the stream of pedestrian traffic and located an info screen he’d remembered seeing mounted a few meters down the far wall. “They’ll be sealing the galleries in a few minutes. Better get in.”
The man nodded, absently fingering the bracelet on his wrist, and headed down the passageway.
The bearded man stood unobtrusively in front of the passageway, pretending to be waiting for someone, until he heard a large doorway close. A quick look toward the gallery confirmed that it had been sealed; an armed guard stood before it.
Satisfied that no one would be leaving the gallery until after the ceremonies, he casually strolled away from gallery 29, careful not to attract attention.
The huge landing shuttle continued its deceleration as it approached Armelin City. Still five kilometers out, the spherical craft reoriented slightly and slowed even further—an observer on the ground might even have assumed it had stopped all forward motion entirely.
“Imperial shuttle Bright Cay now in approach position, awaiting final clearance.”
“You are in pattern, Bright Cay, and we have you in approach mode. You may proceed at your convenience.”
“Roger, approach mode. Stand by, please.” The pilot turned in her chair to face the uniformed man seated in the log officer’s station behind her.
Supreme Commander Fain stirred uneasily in the chair, feeling useless and unnecessary on the deceptively small control bridge of the shuttle. Indeed, the log officer had to be reassigned to an auxiliary position on the bridge afterdeck just to make room for him behind the pilot.
Protocol.
There was no real need for him to even be here. He knew the five-person crew could handle this or any other landing in their sleep—Fain had, in fact, personally selected them from among his own officers on the flagship now orbiting the Moon—but protocol demanded his presence all the same.
“Commander?” The pilot was still looking at him expectantly. The copilot had also turned to face him, and Fain wondered how long he’d hesitated.
“You may proceed with final approach,” he said firmly, then sat straighter in his chair to see over the pilot’s shoulder and watch the landscape below as it began to slide past the shuttle once more.
The new landing facility was clearly visible on the southern tip of the settlement, where all major traffic in and out of Armelin City was handled. There were numerous landing domes of various sizes located here, but the largest of them, built especially to handle Imperial traffic, was separated from the rest and appeared to be a miniature city in its own right. Smaller domes and external, unenclosed pads surrounded it. An irregularly shaped structure Fain recognized as an independent power facility stood out bright orange against the dull gray of the regolith.
“Now at one and one,” the pilot said, indicating the ship was at a distance and height of one kilometer.
“One and one confirmed. Come to five hundred meters for final lock-in.”
“Coming to five hundred.”
Fain felt a twinge of envy. How long had it been since he’d actually piloted a ship like this with his own hands? The personnel of the port authority were controlling a good portion of the landing now, but the final hand-off was yet to come. Fain sighed and leaned back in the chair; as they neared the dome and the vertical angle increased, there was not much to be seen through the front viewport anyway. He could watch the rest of the approach on the small viewscreen set into the log officer’s station.
“Commander Fain?” said the communications officer to his left. “I’m receiving an automated ground-based message for you.”
Now? “Put it through, then.”
“It’s coded private, sir; audio-only.”
Fain exhaled heavily and thumbed a switch on the armrest of his chair, putting his headset into private mode. “This is Fain,” he said, then waited for confirmation that his voice-print ID had been verified.
“Stand by for a transmission from Prince Javas,” said a synthesized voice. Fain’s brow knitted in concern: The call was automated through the Prince’s personal system, and not being handled by Luna. “Ready to receive?”
“Yes.” There was a one-second delay before the transmission started, but it seemed much longer.
“Commander, I hope you are in good health?”
“I am, Sire. But I must admit to being somewhat puzzled by your call.”
The Prince’s chuckle buzzed in the headset.
“I’m sorry if I alarmed you. You’ll be landing in a few moments and I’ll see you personally then on the receiving platform, but there’s something I wanted to say to you now.
“When you bring the ship down, you’ll also be bringing to an end the long and hard transfer of the Imperial Court to Earth. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of the scope of this undertaking, nor of its ultimate importance to my father’s project. But—” He paused, and for a moment Fain thought the young man might be at a loss for words, perhaps for the first time since he’d known him.
“I’ve relied on you these last fifteen years more than you know,” he continued. “My father’s health is not good. You know that, have known it, for many years now. But you may not realize just how close you are to my father’s favor.”
“Sire, I—”
“Let me finish, Commander. You’ve served my father well, as both Commander of the Imperial fleet… and as a friend. He’s depended on you for personal advice as much as for professional competence, and I’m convinced he would not have survived the trip without you. Thank you, Fain.”
Fain sat, stunned, and could think of no response. His jaw moved soundlessly, but the Prince, apparently aware of his discomfort, spared him further embarrassment by quickly adding in an upbeat voice, “I’ll see you soon, Commander.” There was an almost imperceptible click in the headset, indicating that the signal had disconnected.
“We’re at five hundred meters, Commander, and holding,” the pilot said over her shoulder. Fain quickly recovered and thumbed the headset off private.
“Give me an underside view, please.” His viewscreen switched immediately to show the landing dome below them. Concentric targeting rings glowed brightly around the perimeter of the dome in a bull’s-eye pattern. A dark circular portion in the center of the rings, the massive landing bay doors, was easily discernible even in the tiny screen.
“I have the Port Director now, sir; would you care to give the hand-off?”
Fain looked at her, and caught the slight smile before she turned back to her control panel. “Thank you.” He thumbed the armrest. “Director Kaselin, what is your status?”
“We’re now in full lock-in, and are ready for pad-down.”
“The Bright Cay is ready. Bring us in.”
“Yes, sir.” She disconnected immediately. A quick shuddering grasped the ship as the gravity harness engaged. The sensation ended almost at once, and the ship started moving smoothly toward the dome, completely under ground control now. Fain watched in satisfaction as the well-trained crew began the shutdown procedures. All thrust was reduced to standby levels and the background noise and vibration of the engines—so ever-present during their entire flight—decreased, leaving the control bridge in relative silence.