He Who Dares: Book Three by Rob Buckman Page A

Slavery had been with us over the years in one form or another. We just cover it up with politically correct words and form a comity to look into it.” The king’s laugh had anything but humor in it. 
    “Not that it would do us much good in the long run.  The Corporations are outside our jurisdiction, and most are sovereign star systems of their own, with their own fleet of warships to protect them. No real way to police them”
    “Well, we did our best to hold it all together, didn’t we John?”
    “That we did, sir that we did.”
    “John, will you please, just for once, stop calling me, sir, your majesty, and any other bloody title?” John Cromwell chuckled.
    “Yes, Richard, I can do that.” The King blew his cheeks out.
    “I remember you magically appearing out of thin air, grabbing me by the arm and dragging me to your… our dorm room, and, yes, I was scared damn it.”
    “Not for long.” John bumped his should against the King’s.
    “Oh, you mean those two idiots who picked on you at the sweet shop.” He smiled at the memory. “Just because you didn’t have enough money for a spice bun and a drink.” The King shook his head.
    “Well, I’m not sure beating the shit out of them for calling me a ragamuffin was the best course of action.”
    “Still no reason to call you that even if your family wasn’t as well off as theirs.” The King nodded, thinking about how unjust it was to belittle someone just for the pleasure of picking on them. Especially someone smaller who couldn’t fight back. Injustice was something he felt deeply about. Between the two of them, they’d delivered an object lesson to other would-be bullies. Now they knew that Cromwell and company meant business.
    “I still say I should have been the one to take the caning, not you.” John murmured.
    “Water under the bridge. You were there when I needed it, and still are, though god knows why.” The King looked at his friend, and he was, in the truest sense of the word. “There is an old saying. Not sure where it comes from, but they say a friend is someone who’ll help you carry out the body, a true friend will help you bury it.”
    “Yes, I’ve heard that one.”
    “You are both, John.” This time, the King bumped his shoulder against John Cromwell’s. “Now I have to ask you to help me bury one more body.” John turned his head slowly to look at his friend.
    “Whose, and where do you want to bury it?” He asked.
    “The body I want to bury is yours, and for the first time since we’ve known each other. I’m going to order you to do something.” A puzzled frown crossed John Cromwell’s face. “I say order, since if I asked, you’d say no.”
    “Would I?”
    “Yes, you would. So I’m making this a royal command.” John stiffened. In all the years, they’d known each other, the King, his King, had never ordered him to do anything.
    “I have the feeling I’m not going to like this.”
    “You are going to hate it and try to figure a way out of obeying me. Please don’t, John.” John let out a long sigh, because that’s exactly what he was trying to do even before he knew what he was going to be asked to do.
    “Go on.” He said, very softly.
    “You and I both know that the center will not hold. The Sirriens are gradually putting a strangle hold on this system. Trade is already falling off, and the only reason the Sirriens haven’t closed us off completely, as they have so many other star systems, is because of that damned Cg material and the ship parts we turn out. But, one of these days they are going to send a massive fleet in-system to take this world and grab the secret of Cg material for themselves.” His shoulders slumped. “The Royal Navy is in no position to stop them in their present condition.”
    “Yes, worn out ships, an officer corps we can’t trust not to turn tail or simply go over to the enemy.” John added.
    “True and you know as well as I do, that once they take the high