Javas reached for his jacket, buttoning it as he demanded, “I want those responsible for this, do you understand me?” Eric watched his father as he spoke, saw how his brow wrinkled and his eyes blinked occasionally as he talked. Even now, as he dealt with this new situation, Eric knew he was mentally issuing dozens of orders, setting perhaps hundreds of things in motion. “What are your recommendations?”
Glenney stood aside and indicated the door. “Sire, there is no proof yet to tie what has happened to a direct threat against yourself or your son, but the timing of this—occurring during Prince Eric’s first visit to Luna in nearly ten years—bothers me considerably. I want you out of here. Immediately. I can have anything you need brought down to you later, but I want you off Luna within the hour.”
His father, already on his feet, nodded in understanding and fastened the collar of his coat. “I agree.”
Fifteen minutes later Eric stood on the apron of the huge landing grid. His father beside him, they stood surrounded by armed Imperial guards as the shuttle Azalea Dream went through final preparation for launch.
Eric looked up and allowed his eyes to scan the vast chamber, trying unsuccessfully to pinpoint the spot where they had stood barely more than an hour earlier over the body of the slain Port Director. There were hundreds of personnel moving about the upper reaches of the dome, engaged in jobs Eric could only guess at. He returned his attention to the shuttle, now being prepared for lift-off by Glenney and the port authority staff. Unlike the huge, spherical Imperial fleet shuttles that could ferry a hundred people, the Azalea Dream was one of a class of smaller ships, with a capacity of no more than a dozen passengers, that regularly made the quick Earth-Moon run on various Imperial errands. Even so, the small ship was circled by three times the normal amount of technicians and security people as final prep was completed.
“Will you be safe at Woodsgate, Father?” Javas turned to him, the pleased expression on his face confusing Eric. “What is it?” he asked.
“You’ve just been shown that your life has been threatened, and you ask about my welfare.” He shook his head and looked away, but not fast enough that Eric didn’t catch a brief glimpse of the shame and regret in his eyes. “When I was your age, I would never have thought in the same terms about my own father if he had been—”
He had been about to say something more but stopped as a single figure broke suddenly away from the group standing at the shuttle ramp and trotted over to where they waited.
“Sire, Young Prince,” Glenney said hurriedly, “we’re ready to depart. This way, please.” He spun about immediately and quickly led the way to the ramp, with Eric and his father, and the accompanying guards, right behind him.
The escort parted when they reached the shuttle, and the ramp extended fully. The two landing techs clattered quickly down from the shuttle and secured the bottom of the ramp, standing immediately aside when finished.
Two of the guards went up the ramp first, and when Glenney indicated that the Emperor should follow, they ascended the ramp quickly, causing the ramp to bounce slightly. Eric started up the ramp next but lost his balance momentarily on the unsteady footing and pitched forward, throwing his hands out before him to brace himself as he fell.
A strong hand grasped his arm, catching him easily before he could complete his fall. Glenney and the nearest guards bristled, but Eric hastily assured them that he was all right, thanks to the quick reflexes of the shuttle landing tech who had broken his fall.
He turned to the tech, a tall, bearded man with dark, feral eyes that flashed when he smiled. “Watch your step, Young Prince.”
“Thank you,” said Eric. “I will.” He scrambled up the ramp and into the shuttle, followed by Glenney and another pair of guards.
The landing techs unsecured the ramp, and followed them inside.
Chapter Thirteen
Considering the Azalea Dream a small shuttle had been a relative observation on Eric’s part. Sitting on the landing grid of the huge dome as they waited to board during final prep, the ship had been positively dwarfed by the cavernous facility.
And while the Dream’s passenger capacity amounted to only a fraction that of the Imperial shuttle that had ferried him to the Moon three days earlier, this so-called hopper shuttle contained a passenger cabin that was both spacious and comfortably appointed with everything from a self-contained entertainment system to a small galley.
There were two rows of plush seats running the length of the cabin, five in each row, and Eric sat across a surprisingly wide aisle from the seat occupied by his father. Each seat had a viewport screen that simulated a window, as well as a program screen recessed into the back of the seat in front of it. The craft had been designed for passenger comfort and it was no surprise that, while there were many hundreds of this class in Imperial use in Sol system, there were many thousands in private service.
Glenney sat in one of the forwardmost seats. He wore a small headset and had swung the seat’s program screen from its wall position, and was engaged in busy, quiet conversation, although Eric couldn’t tell if he was in contact with the two pilots on the shuttle bridge or the two guards riding with the landing techs in the lower aft deck navigation and landing station. He could have been talking to both or, for that matter, neither. After several minutes of conversation he swung around in his seat, headset still in place, and faced the Emperor.
“We’ll depart in a few moments, Sire. Everything has been set up. Other than the Woodsgate staff, few others know that you’ll be leaving Armelin City. I’ve canceled everything that requires your immediate attention, explaining that you’ll be spending time with the visiting Prince.” His attention was drawn away momentarily as he listened to something in his headset. “A level one quarantine will be instituted on the Imperial section that will begin as soon as we’re away.”
“Quarantine?” Eric asked, addressing Glenney directly.
The man looked briefly to the Emperor, who nodded.
“Two things occurred the moment Director Kaselin’s body was discovered. First, the Imperial section of Armelin City was closed. That is, all vehicular and pedestrian traffic into and out of the section was stopped. Second, a priority computer search going back forty-eight hours was initiated on every door, corridor, workstation or terminal requiring an access code, holocard or thumbprint. That information is correlated with personnel, both on and off duty—” Glenney touched a hand to the earpiece of his headset and turned away a moment to check the program screen.
There was a soft murmuring as the engines went through the start-up cycle, then the slight shudder of the gravity harness engaging, lifting the shuttle off the landing grid. In the viewport Eric saw the grid shrinking below the small ship as it rose; he could have ordered the screen to show an upward vertical perspective, but preferred the view of the landing facility as he waited for the Security Chief to finish.
“We’re away, Sire; the harness has been released and we’re proceeding under our own power.”
“Very good.” Javas settled into the comfortable seat and leaned back fully on the headrest, eyes closed. Eric and Glenney both knew that despite appearances, he was far from napping.
Eric paid little attention now to the view as the shuttle entered its transit pattern for Earth, and considered what Glenney had said just before departure.
“So, what the computer’s looking for,” he began, “is a specific person—or group of people—at a specific place or time. But the level one quarantine?”