“A physical search, Young Prince. In the last hour, every member of security has been stationed throughout the Imperial section. They’ll sweep inward, toward the landing bay, physically checking every security checkpoint, every ID, every terminal.”
Eric held up a hand, interrupting him. “To what purpose?”
“To what—?” Glenney was startled by the question. “Why, to apprehend whoever is—”
“Don’t you think the time has come to stop talking down to me?” Eric demanded, his face set in a look of grim determination. From the corner of his eye, he saw his father raise an eyebrow, silently observing both himself and Glenney. The Chief’s mouth opened and closed several times and he looked to his father, who nodded agreement with his son.
“I know you wish to catch those responsible for the Director’s murder,” Eric went on. “Only a fool or a child would think otherwise. I am neither. What I want to know is who you’re looking for.” He turned to Javas, now sitting upright in rapt attention to the conversation. “Father, if you have no objections I’d like to see the complete file on what happened today, as well as access to the background files on previous attempts on our family; including those relating to my grandfather’s death.”
“See that Prince Eric receives access to all the files he’s requested,” Javas said without hesitation. Glenney was about to protest, but before he could speak the Emperor added, “If it makes you feel better you may enter the necessary codes yourself, then transfer control to him.” Glenney turned away, speaking in hushed tones and tapping swiftly at the keys on his program screen. Javas leaned across the aisle, a bemused expression plainly visible on his face. “Oh, and son,” he said softly, “thank you for asking for permission this time.”
Eric grinned guiltily, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling, and Javas laughed for the first time since they had been interrupted at dinner by Glenney’s report. The sound of his father’s laughter lifted his spirits, and he wondered if he, too, would find rare times of good humor when he became Emperor.
The Chief stopped in mid-sentence and turned around, obviously bewildered by what was going on behind him. One glance at the expression on the befuddled man’s face, however, and Eric couldn’t help but join his father in the laughter.
“How soon till we’re home?” Eric asked, stretching his cramped legs beneath the seat in front of him.
“Not long, Your Highness,” the copilot responded. The communications channel between the bridge and the passenger cabin had been left open during de-orbit so they could hear the progress and description of the landing procedure.
Like most of the hopper shuttles, Azalea Dream was fast.
There was no way for Eric to have read all the files during the ride to Earth, and when the pilot announced that they were now on final approach to Woodsgate he reluctantly closed the access channel and blanked the program screen. He had learned much from the files. Most of it was as disturbing as it was revealing, but nothing of what he’d read disturbed him as much as the identity of the horseman who had helped him that day in the backwoods. He seemed so different, Eric noted, comparing the memory of that afternoon with what he’d just learned from the files. Was it really possible that the same man who’d shown him kindness that day could really have been responsible for his grandfather’s death?
He turned to the viewport and scanned the Kentucky countryside, awash in the deep greens of early July, passing below them. The shuttle made a wide circle, and he saw the town of Somerville pass a few kilometers to the east as they kept the ship over unpopulated forestland until they entered the restricted airspace extending in a five-kilometer radius around the estate. The craft continued its arc, and finally the estate came into view, nestled in the hills west of town. The Sun was still high in the sky, and here and there a sudden flash reached his eyes as their steady movement caused the angle to be just right to reflect off the surface of an occasional stream or pond.
“Mr. Glenney, would you please see that everyone is secure for pad-down?”
Glenney came down the short aisle, personally inspecting his seat belt as well as his father’s, then returned to his own seat and buckled in before turning to the Emperor. “Sire?”
“Anytime.”
“We’re secure,” Glenney said to the copilot. “Proceed with your final approach and landing.”
There was only the slightest sensation of movement as the craft came around and began descending at an angle toward the estate. Eric watched the descent without comment, listening to the odd one-sided conversation the pilot and copilot were having with ground controclass="underline"
“Angle now at sixty-five degrees… Thank you, control, will do… No, the wind’s not a problem at all.” There was a pause, and the sound of laughter. “Right, I’ll tell him you said so. If you have us locked in, please confirm our distance… Roger that; we’re at six hundred meters, descending now at a steady five meters per second. Open a gate in the skin at four-sixty.”
Eric watched as Woodsgate drew closer in the viewport, and noticed that a large, perfect circle nearly fifty meters in diameter had appeared in the hazy air as they descended. Glenney had mentioned before they left Luna that the estate shielding had been increased to maximum even before the decision to remove them to Earth had been made, but Eric hadn’t noticed the fuzzy outline of the dome-shaped shielding until the landing gate had been opened.
“Looking good from our end, control… We copy that the skin’s open and clear; we’ll be inside in ten seconds. Give us a full ten meters clearance, though, before you reclose—” The copilot broke in suddenly, cutting the captain off. “I’m reading the skin coming back up! Abort landing pro—”
The entire cabin shook violently and tilted at a crazy angle, throwing Eric against the viewport screen. There was another shudder as what felt like a small detonation came from below, sending the bridge into confused turmoil.
“I don’t know, I don’t know! A second skin, I think, about a meter above the House shielding… What? I’m trying to! What’s happening to the harness?”
All movement stopped, and the shuttle hung motionless in the sky as both pilot and copilot jabbered constantly about the ship’s condition with ground control. Glenney had unstrapped and was on his hands and knees, climbing the now-sloping floor to the door leading to the bridge, but had no luck pulling it open. Grasping the handle firmly, he ran a hand along a smooth wrinkle in the surface of the bulkhead around the door, realizing that the metal itself had buckled slightly, effectively jamming the door. The internal lights flickered once, then came on and remained steady, but only static came now from the communications speaker.
“Captain!” Glenney called, but there was no answer from the bridge. He tapped at the headset with his fingers, then switched to another channel. “Navigation, are you there?” He waited a moment, then pulled off the useless headset, letting it slide skittering to the back of the cabin. “Damn!” he spat, then released his grip and slid down the floor to the seats. Using them for support, he leaned between Eric and his father. “Sire, are you both all right?”
“I’m fine,” he replied, shaking his dazed head to clear it. “Eric!”
“I’m all right, Father.” He dabbed at a trickle of blood at his nose from where he’d banged into the viewport and turned to Glenney. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” He looked past Eric at the viewport. Eric and his father both followed his gaze and saw that the outside view was unchanged: They seemed to be motionless, hanging some 450 meters above the estate, with the landing pad plainly visible beneath them. House personnel, Imperial guards and members of the ground landing crew could be seen running on the ground below. “But judging from what the captain was saying before the speaker went out, we seem to be embedded in a second shield of some kind, projected just above the estate’s own.”