The situation was clear. His allies had made a massive flanking maneuver upon the enemy, and now he had to make his move. Melville wasn’t very good at the whole angst business. He didn’t need hope when despair could be delayed. He lived for the moment. And once again, the moment was good.
On his way out the gunny reverently handed him a .45 auto in a hand-tooled leather paddle holster, designed to fit snugly into his waistband in the small of his back, where it would be concealed by his uniform jacket. Another small paddle holster held two magazines on his left hip.
“The embassy’s emergency supplies,” said the gunny smugly. “They seem to have suddenly become available to most of our officers. Oh, and Lieutenant Broadax asked me to tell you that as the senior marine she would have come . . . but we decided I might be slightly less conspicuous.”
As they left the cell the young marine guard had Melville’s sword in his hand. He handed the sword to Melville, came to a rigid position of attention, saluted smartly, and conducted an “about face” that would have made his drill sergeant proud.
“You ready, son?” asked Von Rito.
“Aye, Gunny.”
“Sorry, ’bout this, but you know you’ll be in big trouble without this souvenir. And we can’t be having that!”
Then, “Thunk!” and Von Rito gave him a precisely measured punch to the back of the head, guaranteed to leave a good lump. The guard crumpled quietly to the floor.
“Aye, you’re a wily devil, sir,” said the gunny as he led them out. “No cell can hold you by God!”
High upon the loftiest flet in the tallest tree in Osgil, the King of Osgil sat upon his throne in a flowing robe of green. Emeralds, rubies, and vivid, glowing, sunshine-yellow gems flashed from his crown and gown. Upon the dais, standing on each side of the king, were the King-in-Exile of Stolsh, garbed in elaborate robes made of all the swirling colors of a living world as seen from space, and the bearded ambassador of the Dwarrowdelf League, in glistening scale mail, steel helmet and battle-ax.
There was nothing above them but the two radiant moons of Osgil and a vast sea of stars. The two moons made the immense platform as bright as lamplight. The scene was surrounded, virtually framed, by elegant Sylvan landscape, architecture, and design, consisting of sweeping, flowing, naturalistic lines—and naturist lines, which is quite different, incorporating the elegant beauty of the nude form. It was art nouveau long, long before nouveau was new on Old Earth.
Behind the dais, an orchestra played a noble tune that sounded faintly regal to the visitors.
Arrayed to the left and right of the dais were the ambassadors of all the worlds with embassies on Osgil. Notably absent was the Guldur ambassador, who had been sent home several weeks prior. Notably present was Sir Percival Incessant, his face red with anger, the nostrils of his oversized nose flaring. Standing sullenly beside him, as the senior representative of Earth, was the Honorable Cuthbert Asquith XVI.
In formation before the king was the crew of H.M.S. Fang. Each crew member had their monkey perched proudly upon their shoulder. Melville stood in front, with Lady Elphinstone and Valandil, the two Sylvan members of his crew, immediately to his left.
The Sylvan and Stolsh nobility were gathered around the Fangs’ square formation, chatting among themselves with drinks in their hands.
To the rear of the formation, servers stood beside tables groaning under the load of a Sylvan banquet. Not a fully satisfying meal to human appetites, but definitely a bounty of tasty snacks. All around them were the lovingly tended trees and flower beds of the Royal Gardens, perched high above the earth.
The orchestra played a final, stately chord and fell silent, which was the signal for all conversation to cease as the king began to address the crowd.
“Be it known to one and all, that we here gathered: the King of Osgil, representing the Sylvan peoples across the galaxy . . .” The Sylvan were one of the most diverse and widespread races in the galaxy. Osgil was their Prime World, and he was only the king of this one world. But if anyone could speak for all the myriad Sylvan worlds, he was the one to do it.
” . . . the King-in-Exile of Stolsh,” here the tall Stolsh king bowed to the crowd in a swirl of colors, “representing the Kingdom of Stolsh which is currently besieged and occupied by vile attackers . . .
” . . . and the ambassador to the Dwarrowdelf League . . .” and here the ambassador raised his battle ax and slammed the hilt into the ground three times. He was of royal lineage, and was the rightful king of the large Dwarrowdelf population on Osgil. The word “king” more rightfully translated as “mine boss.”
” . . . do hereby decree and declare the following . . .”
It was interesting to watch the Westerness ambassador’s eyes begin to shift back and forth, like rodents trying to escape, as the magnitude of the political forces aligned against him became clear.
“We decree that the joint expedition aboard the ship Kestrel, representing the Kingdom of Westerness and the King of Osgil, and containing a citizen of the Dwarrowdelf League, was unjustly and murderously attacked, under the flag of truce, by the forces of Guldur. This was a premeditated act of war against the Kingdoms which dispatched this expedition, and the rulers here assembled do decree that all actions taken by the acting captain and by the crew were under the full authority of ourselves, and the joint agreement under which the expedition was dispatched. We do advise our Sister, Victoria the Fifth, the queen of Westerness, to accept this as a premeditated assault upon the nation of Westerness, and to join us in the mutual defense of our realms.”
That, thought Melville, is stretching the terms of the joint agreement for our expedition significantly, but who is going to disagree with the King of Osgil’s interpretation of his own agreement?
“We do further decree, to those assembled here, and to the galaxy at large, that the Ship Fang belongs to the Queen of Westerness, rightfully captured in an act of lawful self defense. We grant prize rights for the Ship to Captain Thomas Melville, which Ship is now bonded and bound to him and him alone, by right of blood and battle. And we grant prize money, as determined by the Osgil Prize Court, to Captain Melville and the current crew of H.M.S. Fang.”
This drew a great cheer from the Fangs. Patriotism, promotion and prize-money had been described as the three masts of the old British Royal Navy. Now this crew, which so prized tradition and the rich heritage of Aubrey and Hornblower, was delighted to be the first Westerness crew to ever receive prize money from a Sylvan Prize Court.
As a part of their recent treaty, Westerness and Osgil had agreed to respect each other’s Prize Courts. This treaty was signed by Westerness as a measure to foster trade by supporting mutual counterpiracy operations. It’s doubtful that any Westerness diplomat had ever foreseen the current situation, but Melville was beginning to wonder if the long-lived and far-sighted Sylvans hadn’t anticipated this possibility.
This had all been briefly presented to Melville ahead of time. He didn’t understand exactly why, but the only thing the Sylvans asked of him was two of Fang’s 24-pounder cannons. They’d promised two 12-pounders in return, and they’d promised to reimburse them handsomely in prize money for these two guns. It hurt to let go of any of his guns, but this was a small price to pay in return for such generosity.
“We do further decree,” continued the king, his deep, powerful voice rolling across the assemblage, “that Captain Thomas Melville, commanding the Westerness ship Kestrel, and later the Westerness ship Fang, acted in keeping with all civilized traditions and behavior in all aspects of his conduct.”
Well, thought Melville, nothing like getting a total pardon for all actions from three of the greatest empires in the Galaxy. Piss off powerful enemies, and I suppose it’s only fair that you get powerful friends. Looking at Sir Percival Incessant, now white with rage, Melville began to wonder just where he stood with one other major star kingdom: his own.
“We do further decree, that Captain Melville’s actions in capturing H.M.S. Fang, breaking through the blockade of Ambergris, resisting the unprovoked invasion of Ambergris, and assisting in the evacuation of Ambergris, were acts of valor and military prowess unprecedented in the long histories of our peoples. Actions deserving of the highest honors our kingdoms are empowered to bestow.”
There was an appreciative rumbling from the formation of Fangs, and applause from the audience standing beside them, applause which built to a thundering crescendo, echoed by one and all. Except for the Fangs who were standing at rigid attention, the three leaders upon the dais who were nodding regally, and the Westerness ambassador. Even Asquith, standing beside Incessant, gave a few puzzled, limp claps.