What Needs Defending

by Hiroyuki Morioka

  “I’m totally afraid,” Jint declared flatly. They were right in the middle of an all-out war, and he was technically a soldier, so he’d given more than a passing thought to his death. But he wanted his death to be as far down the line as possible, and he didn’t plan on having his life taken from him by old-fashioned gunpowder firearms on a landworld.

  “I understand. We have no desire to expose imperial soldiers to danger, and they’re just reaping what they’ve sown.”

  Fazzin picked up a transceiver and ordered the operation to be suspended. A faint but contemptuous smile was on her lips.

  Oh, please. Like you didn’t bat an eye yourself back there. But Jint kept that observation to himself.

  “I understand what you’re contending,” said Lafier, fed up.

  “You do, do you?” said Dohkfoo. “Well then, if you understand what I’m saying, then why won’t you recognize me as Landworld Citizen Representative?”

  “Because I don’t want to.”

  “I can’t possibly accept that as an explanation! Listen here; I represent an absolute majority of the population of Lohbnahss II. In other words, more than half of the people back me. As such, if you refuse to appoint me as Citizen Representative—”

  “‘If?’ Did it really escape you?” said Lafier, legitimately surprised. “This is not hypothetical. There is no ‘if.’ I am refusing to appoint you.”

  “Yes, yes, I understand that. It’s just a figure of speech...”

  “Oh.”

  “In any case, I would like a clear and proper reason as to why you’re rejecting me.”

  “No.”

  Dohkfoo looked positively deflated. “You can’t just leave it at that...”

  If only Jint were here, thought Lafier. She felt as though she’d only been able to avoid talking in circles like she was at the moment every other time she’d had to talk to land peoples thanks to his being at her side. Even if, at times, she picked up on a certain teasing tone toward herself and the Abh in every word that came out of his mouth that left her irritated.

  “I will not be speaking to you any longer. Goodbye.”

  “That’s a shame. But I’m not giving up here.”

  And with that, the call was severed.

  Lafier rose to her feet and addressed Ecryua: “Do not pick up any other calls unless it’s my adjunct.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ecryua nodded.

  Ever since they’d selected the Warden as the Citizen Representative, the other two self-proclaimed Premiers had kept pestering them with call requests. At first, she’d replied with all seriousness, but they simply refused to back down, calling over and over again. As soon as a call from Dohkfoo would end, a call from Shungarr would come. And as soon as she’d, in her exhaustion, cut the line with Shungarr, Dohkfoo would be waiting on the other line to talk to her once more. After the second round of calls, they had no new arguments to make, so instead they changed up how they said them (Dohkfoo was fairly talented at it, while Shungarr’s vocabulary was a bit limited).

  It had even made Lafier question whether the two were conspiring behind her back to arrange their calls just so.

  The fact that the other candidate for Citizen Representative, Anguson, hadn’t reached out to her could be counted as a blessing. Unlike the other two, he hadn’t even seen the need to declare himself Star System Premier, so it was little wonder he wouldn’t bother contacting her, their liege the Lady.

  “A call from the Adjunct,” reported Ecryua.

  “Put it through.”

  “Humblest greetings from a chaotic landworld,” said Jint affectedly.

  “I may be up in orbit, but I know full well. How’s the situation?”

  “The rationing’s over for the time being. We got fired at, but we haven’t encountered any real issues.”

  “Fired at? By who?” Despite the landworld administration facing a civil war, the young count seemed unfazed.

  “Beats me,” Jint shrugged. “All we know is they’re men.”

  “They didn’t look into it?”

  “They haven’t got the manpower. It’s just like they told us before; the place is in turmoil.”

  “So you’ve come to the conclusion that it’s not significant enough to react to?” She trusted Jint. If he judged the goings-on to be no big deal, then it must really be a trivial matter.

  “Yeah. Just a bump on the road, that’s all. I’ll hand in the detailed report later. In the meantime, there’s something more important to bring up.”

  “What is it?”

  “Lonh-Saimr Sosr (His Excellency the Landworld Citizen Representative) wants to emigrate.”

  “Is that all?”

  “The jailers and all of their families want out, too. I’m told there are more than twenty thousand people total.”

  “I see.”

  Jint looked dumbfounded. “That’s all you’ve got to say? We’re talking twenty thousand people here. Don’t tell me you’re planning to push all the messy stuff on me.”

  “That shouldn’t be a concern, either. There’s nothing to be carried out of this territory-nation. We should be able to stow them aboard one or more of the supply ships making their way back.”

  “But where would their ultimate destinations be? We’d have to decide after stowing them.”

  “Is there some problem taking them to a loneucebhic (prison camp)?” she asked breezily.

  “A prison camp!?” Jint was taken aback, but thinking about it... “Hmm. They might misunderstand, though.”

  “Their misunderstanding would eventually resolve itself.”

  “Well, I guess it wouldn’t take much doing.”

  When her call with Jint ended, she lifted her head, to find Ecryua staring her way.

  “What?”

  “A prisoner as Citizen Representative?”

  “I suppose that’s how this plays out,” answered Lafier.

  “Huh.” And then Ecryua faced forward again.

  Though it was paranoid of her, Lafier suspected Ecryua was smiling inwardly — things were getting entertaining.

  “A PRISON CAMP!?”

  Maydeen reacted as expected.

  “We are NOT prisoners of war! Were you lying when you told us we’d be treated as subjects of the Empire?”

  “Please calm down, Your Excellency,” said Jint. “Think of it as more of a temporary pitstop than anything. A ‘waiting place,’ if you will.”

  “What is a ‘waiting place’?”

  “Well, truth be told, there is no such thing as a ‘waiting place,’ technically speaking...”

  The conception of prisoners of war in the Humankind Empire of Abh differed greatly from other societies’. In the Empire, there were only two ways a war could end. Either the Empire collapsed, or the enemy lost its status as a sovereign interstellar power. So far, each war the Abh were a party to ended one way and not the other. Naturally, once a war ended, the government holding prisoners of war would be dissolved (with the rare exception of those administrations that survived as single star system administrations). The Star Forces didn’t view nations without space combat capabilities as threats. Enemy soldiers, who lost any warship upon which they could board, were made imperial subjects (whether they liked it or not), with total freedom to go wherever they so desired... so long as that wherever was within the Empire.

  Most prisoners of war wished to return to their homeworlds. Unfortunately, it was not unheard of for a homeworld to not be annexed by the Empire. Needless to say, the Empire was not so soft-hearted as to return combat experts with years of experience to the enemy. That was where prisoner camps entered the picture. They were to wait there until the place they wanted to go back to was dragged into the Abhs’ mild autocracy.

  “...So if there’s any territory-nation within the Empire you’d like to emigrate to, you can depart for it as soon as you like. There are no restrictions,” said Jint.

  Maydeen seemed skeptical. “What kind of place is this ‘prison camp’? Is it an orbita
l city?”

  “No. It’ll be a landworld. And probably one with more space than this place.”

  “So there are several such camps, then.”

  “Yes. Fourteen landworlds have been made prison camps, at present.”

  “Have you ever been to one of them?”

  “No,” said Jint, shaking his head. “But I have done my research.”

  “I see.” Maydeen rose to his feet. “Tell me, what will life be like there?”

  “The first year, your living expenses will be paid for. After that, it’ll be the same as any other landworld. You’ll earn income by working, or think about making a living some other, better way. Plus, it seems like it’s fairly cozy. Stuff like maintaining order and constructing large-scale facilities is all financed by the Empire’s coffers, so there are no taxes. There are even hospitals run using Empire funding, which is rare across landworlds. The biggest problem for residents of the camps is the waiting to find out in what way they’ll be moved to another territory-nation.”

  But Maydeen’s misgivings weren’t dispelled quite yet. “What about the labor? What kind of labor will it be?”

  “The main industry is development. Unlike here, there is no stipulation against reproducing, so there are people who establish roots across multiple generations. And as I said earlier, it’s comfortable living. If a given world is judged to be self-sufficient without outside help, the Empire will even draw back, with a landworld administration taking the reins. That administration’s make-up would of course be chosen by the planet’s residents.”

  “In other words, we would be taking on the task of expanding part of the Empire’s dominion.”

  “Well, there’s nothing stopping you from looking at it that way. And, though I hate to repeat myself, if there’s anything that rubs you the wrong way, you’re always free to emigrate anywhere you like. That is, if the landworld administration of the planet you want to go to accepts you in.”

  “I see.” Maydeen folded his arms. “Can I ask you for background information about those fourteen planets?”

  “Of course.” Jint retrieved a memchip from the pocket of his long robe. The chip was shaped like the UH standard. Both the data format and the language provided were set with the receiving party in mind.

  “You didn’t need to do that for us. Our computers can read imperial-format memchips, too,” said Maydeen, taking it in hand.

  “It’s a courtesy.”

  “Now then, I’ll be examining the contents carefully. I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

  “There’s no need to hurry,” blurted Jint, his true intentions leaking out his mouth. In point of fact, Jint didn’t want Maydeen to give him an answer before the magistrate (whose job this actually was) arrived to replace him and Lafier. “There’s something I’d like you to do for us first. I’d like you to choose the next Landworld Citizen Representative.”

  Maydeen took that like a sucker punch. “The next citizen representative? So, the next warden, you must mean. But the employees and their families will all be leaving this planet.”

  “Whether they’re named Warden or Premier doesn’t matter to us. I want you to select the person best suited to take responsibility for this planet of yours — that is to say, this landworld, once you’re all gone.”

  This was what Jint refused to back down on. He was certainly aware what an oddball he was among the nobility. Nevertheless, he had taken on his noble rank of his own volition, choosing to live as a member of the Kin of the Stars to see where it’d take him. To get involved with the selection of a landworld’s Citizen Representative felt like crossing a line as an Abh. Being an Abh noble despite hailing from a landworld himself was a complicated enough position to start with. He couldn’t imagine how things would branch out for him now that he’d hit this particular milestone.

  As for who would head the Board of Elections, he had, as a joke, suggested to Lafier that she should do it, but he didn’t honestly think she’d be fit for the role, and it was a hard pass for Jint himself as well. And, most importantly, if Maydeen didn’t leave behind a responsible landworld administration in his wake, then this planet would succumb to out-of-control pandemonium. That much was crystal clear.

  The Empire had a peculiar penchant for boasting of its less savory attributes and pretending to be worse than it really was. It seemed to want to be viewed by land peoples as ruthless, but in point of fact, the Empire did not cast a blind eye on civil strife. Moreover, this world was teeming with professional murderers, and they were taking a sabbatical from killing only on a superficial level. As such, a civil war here would be especially grisly. Even just as a human being vested with empathy, Jint didn’t want to see that kind of gut-churning spectacle.

  “You say that, but... I’m not the one who bears responsibility towards this planet’s future. The term ‘landworld citizen representative’ sounds a tad belittling, but I’ll use it just to make discussion simpler. What I wish to say is, the Citizen Representative is for the people who will be residing on this planet to choose.”

  “Yes, and I’d like you to work out a plan to make that happen.”

  “Are you asking me to hold an election?”

  “I leave the method entirely in your hands. But if you’ll allow me to state my opinion, I believe an election to be the most reasonable approach.”

  “I see.” Maydeen folded his arms.

  Clearly, Maydeen was less than enthused by this turn, but so too was Jint by his reaction. He couldn’t afford to feel for the Warden here. “I can’t authorize Your Excellency’s emigration until the next Citizen Representative is chosen.”

  “I suppose you’re doing as you must,” said Maydeen, grim-faced. “We do have extenuating circumstances, however. We’d like you to keep our emigration a secret to the inmates if possible. We have no idea what fresh hell would arise. But if we were to hold an election...”

  “So you were planning to leave in secrecy?” said Jint, blinking. The thought hadn’t occurred to him, but he did understand where the Warden was coming from. Once the prisoners caught wind that the guards would be vacating the penitentiary, chances were high they’d act out.

  “Yes, that’s correct. Granted, we can’t exactly sneak out without a sound. But we were planning to operate in secrecy until the time was nigh. That’s why even only a select few of my subordinates know we’re emigrating.”

  “You haven’t even told the people who’ll be leaving!?” shouted Jint, despite himself.

  “Of course. Some of my employees are friendly with some prisoners. Who knows who would leak what?”

  “Then you don’t even know if they want to leave.”

  “No, not with one hundred percent certainty,” replied Maydeen, his expression humorless, “but they’ll all want to relocate. Trust me.”

  I don’t know about that, thought Jint. He’d met many people with personalities similar to Maydeen’s. He was likely just another person who didn’t doubt they knew the optimal path in their head was the best for everyone. But Jint knew that was usually an illusion. With the exception of children in need of guardians, the Empire never forcibly put people aboard ships, but for the time being, he kept that fact to himself so as not to complicate matters.

  In any case, it seemed that there would be some quarreling by the time they were to relocate, and that at the moment, they ought to build up the strength they needed in anticipation of that eventuality.

  “Well, if that’s the case, then given that there are three candidates for Landworld Citizen Representative, then shouldn’t you gather them together to hash it all out?”

  “That an order?”

  “Heavens no. Not to repeat myself, but I leave the selection method to you.” He had a feeling that he had been, and still was, running his mouth a little too much.

  “Very well. We’ll discuss amongst ourselves from here,” he said, waving his hand as though he was done with Jint.

  Jint had seen United Humankind propaganda broadcas
ts before. They claimed that the landworlds ruled by the Abh were occupied with an iron fist. Had Maydeen never caught a glimpse of that propaganda?

  Chapter 4: The Cfazaitec Flurhotr (Relocation Plan)

  The Abh lived out their lives in artificial environments. To them, the concepts of “morning” and “night” were not dictated by the relative positions of a planet and its sun, as for landworlders. The Abh did, however, recognize the merits of every member of a community going about their work at the same time, so the words arh (“morning”) and gorh (“night”) remained in parlance for convenience’s sake. Arh was the period of time before the day’s onboard labors began, and gorh, the period after.

  It was a different story, on the other hand, for the gahoriac (bridge personnel). Aboard a warship, at least one person had to be on duty at all times. The lifestyles of bridge personnel (which only Flight Branch starpilots could be) were segmented into three distinct categories. On vessels like the assault ship Basrogrh, where there were only three Flight Branch starpilots, if any one of them were absent, then having someone on duty at all times became considerably rougher. That was one reason it was the two non-Flight Branch starpilots, Jint of the Budget Branch and Samson of the Mechanics Branch, who had touched down on Lohbnahss II. Due to that, it was only really when they entered or left a port, or during battle, that every starpilot was together. It wasn’t uncommon for a given starpilot to never come across another given starpilot thanks to their differing work hours.

  Being aboard a ship was an Abh’s everyday. Their time outside of work hours was precious indeed. Yet Lafier was making sure to be on the bridge as much as possible, even while off-duty. And that was because the bridge of the assault ship Basrogrh was also her manor as the interim liege.

  “Are you not tired?” asked Senior Starpilot Sobash, whose shift it actually was.

  “Not particularly,” answered Lafier, intending for that response to come across as natural as can be. But Sobash wasn’t convinced.

  “I can call you as soon as anything pops up. Might I suggest you go rest?”