The Empire's Corps: Book 05 - The Outcast

by Christopher Nuttall

  Sameena winced. News spread oddly throughout the galaxy, moving from worlds on the trade routes to worlds that had only limited contact with the Empire. Jannah might never even realise that the Empire had fallen until the first pirate band turned up to demand money with menaces. Or it wouldn't have realised, she knew, if they weren't linked to the Cartel. Their profits would vanish even without her sharing the secret of the Sunflower Berries with the entire universe.

  “You’ll get supplies from me,” she said, firmly. “And pay too.”

  Jamie stared at her. When he spoke, he sounded shocked. “Are you planning to hire us like we’re mercenaries?”

  “You got paid for serving the Empire,” Sameena pointed out. Madagascar might not have been so profitable if the Imperial Navy crewmen hadn't spent most of their salaries on the rock. “You will be paid by me for upholding civilisation.”

  She pushed onwards before he could think about it too much. The traders did tend to call the Imperial Navy mercenaries, precisely because they did get paid to enforce the Grand Senate’s whims. But they also hunted down pirates and protected convoys. Sameena had a feeling that countless worlds were going to wish that the Imperial Navy was still there, soon enough. Only a handful of worlds in the sector had any form of planetary defence network.

  “Your duties will be to escort convoys and engage pirates,” she continued. “You will also protect worlds that sign up with us. Given time, we can repair your cannibalised ships and produce new ones. You will be able to recruit new officers and men from the traders, the asteroids or even the colony worlds.”

  “You’re setting up an empire of your own,” Jamie said, wonderingly. “Or is it a giant protection racket?”

  “I’m trying to preserve civilisation,” Sameena said. “And as for it being a protection racket ... tell me, what is the difference between one such gang and the Grand Senate? I won’t force anyone to join.”

  “I believe you mean well,” Jamie said, “but are you sure that it will work?”

  “I think there’s no choice, but to try,” Sameena said. There would be quite a few disparate factions left behind by the Empire. Pulling them together would be a real challenge, but the rewards would be immense. Brad would have a real Empire to inherit. “Will you join me?”

  “It will be hard to convince the other officers,” Jamie said. He stood up. “But I can try.”

  “I’ll hand the supplies over to you,” Sameena said. It was a calculated risk; she knew Jamie wouldn't try to steal from her, but she wasn't so sure about the other officers. Besides, she did owe the Imperial Navy a considerable debt. “That should give you some bargaining power.”

  Jamie reached for her and wrapped his arms around her as she stood up, hugging her tightly. “Thank you,” he said, softly. “And I’m sorry about ...”

  He waved a hand at the bottles. “Don’t worry about it,” Sameena said. Ethne had taught her, in one of her motherly moods, that there was nothing to be gained from humiliating a man time and time again. They tended to resent it, which led to eventual separation – or violence. “Just don’t turn up drunk while you’re working for me.”

  She allowed him to lead her back to her ship, then waved goodbye as she stepped through the airlock. Paddy gave her a concerned look, so she filled him in as they separated from the destroyer and headed towards Madagascar. There was no trouble about receiving permission to dock, although there was an unusual warning that weapons would not be permitted onboard the asteroid. A check with Captain Hamilton revealed that several arguments in bars had turned into brawls when the magnitude of the Empire’s betrayal had been revealed and several people had been killed.

  Madagascar felt weird when she stepped through the airlock and into the asteroid. The market place was almost completely deserted, save for a handful of unlucky souls who had nowhere else to go. Everyone else was holed up in their apartments or starships, only venturing out when they needed something. Sameena remembered how noisy it had been when she'd first visited, how many different cultures had blurred together in front of her. Now, it was almost dead ...

  The stalls were boarded up, the shops locked; the great chamber was almost painfully silent. Her footsteps seemed deafeningly loud in her own ears as she walked down the middle of the aisle, feeling tears prickling at the corner of her eyes. It was easy to believe that Madagascar was dead, as dead as the starships they’d pulled from the junkyard. There was no fertile soil that might give birth to new life. Sometime in the future, the morbid part of her mind remarked, archaeologists might stumble across the asteroid and wonder just what brought such a powerful civilisation to its knees.

  It felt like the end of the world.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The Grand Senate looked upon this and considered it good. From their point of view, it worked splendidly - and, when the colonists objected, the military could be sent in to break a few heads. However, it actually ensured that the Grand Senate-backed corporations no longer tested themselves against peer powers. Of course, had the Empire faced a peer power as a whole, things might have been different.

  - Professor Leo Caesius. The Science That Isn’t: Economics and the Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire.

  Sameena had attended three Meets in her life. As the owner of a trader starship – and a blood tie to a very well established trader clan – she had the right to vote and speak. It was something she hadn't really understood until her marriage to Brad – and Brad Junior’s birth – when Captain Hamilton had explained it to her. Brad had had ambitions, he’d admitted, reluctantly. A captaincy of his own would have allowed him to step out from under his father’s shadow.

  The Meet itself took place inside a giant bubble of air that had been designed and built for that purpose. It gave the impression that they were floating in space itself, wearing nothing more than shipsuits. Sameena suspected that it was intended as a subtle challenge to the Captains. Those who couldn't endure the experience were not considered worthy of attending the Meet. She still had nightmares, sometimes, about falling into space, but she kept her emotions under strict control. They couldn't be given any reason to disregard her.

  Only Captains attended the Meet physically, but everyone on the two hundred starships that had entered the system would be able to watch proceedings through the jury-rigged datanet. They had no formal vote, she knew, yet the wiser Captains would listen to their subordinates before casting a vote in the Meet. It was a very open system of government, even if it wasn't entirely a democracy. But then, a democracy would be a dangerous way to run a starship.

  She caught her breath as the Mistress of Ceremonies – selected at random from the Captains – called the Meet to order. The Captains, who had been chatting softly to one another, settled down, floating in the zero-gravity field. It made her think of being at prayer, even if the Captains seemed to be scattered around at random. And yet there was a certain elegance to the whole system.

  “Captain Hussein-Hamilton wishes to bring a proposal before the Meet,” the Mistress said. Her voice echoed through the chamber. “Who will second her proposal?”

  “I will,” Captain Hamilton said.

  “As will I,” Captain Barker added.

  Sameena smiled, inwardly. The Meet rules stated that all proposals had to be supported by at least one Captain, preferably one unrelated to the proposer. Captain Hamilton was her father-in-law, technically; Captain Barker was a friend. Between them, they would ensure that the Meet would listen to her. But that didn't mean that they would agree.

  “The proposal has been seconded,” the Mistress said. “Captain Hussein-Hamilton; you may speak.”

  The Captains looked at her, waiting for her to speak. Sameena felt a flicker of nervousness, which she ruthlessly squashed. She couldn’t afford to show any doubt or uncertainty, not now. They had to believe that she believed every word she said – and that she was confident enough to see matters through to the end. The fact she was so new to the traders didn’t help, she knew.
She was a very minor member of the Hamilton Family – and only by marriage.

  But she had earned some respect.

  “We are those who are truly free,” she said.

  A low rustle ran through the chamber as she quoted the funeral oration. The traders considered themselves truly free, not bound by the conventions of the Empire or the strange semi-religious society of the RockRats. They were a diverse group bound together by a common interest in profit and mutual support. The traders prided themselves on their flexibility – but were they flexible enough to adapt to the new order?

  “We tell ourselves that, from the moment we are born to the moment we die,” she said, ignoring the fact that she hadn't been a trader five years ago. “We move from star system to star system, picking up a cargo here, passengers there, and keep ourselves as separate as we can from the stifling presence of the Empire. If times get too hard, we tell ourselves, we can leave and go elsewhere.

  “That is self-delusion. We were dependent on the Empire. We took cargoes from the Empire’s worlds, we used the Empire’s facilities, we even made a profit from quietly ignoring some of the Empire’s laws. And now the Empire is gone. What interstellar trade hasn't dried up already will soon be gone. Supplies from the Core Worlds have come to an end. They will be followed by the complete breakdown of law and order across the spaceways.”

  She paused, trying to gauge their reaction. Some of them had definitely been amused by her sly reference to evading laws – smugglers could only turn a profit if their cargos were illegal – while others were angry at her unconcealed disregard for one of their most stubbornly-held beliefs. If the rules governing the Meet hadn't been so strict, some of them would probably have stormed out or challenged her to a fight. But they had to let her finish before they could speak themselves.

  “Right now, the Empire is gone,” she continued. “There is a power vacuum. And nature abhors a vacuum. Sooner or later, someone will try to fill it.”

  She ran through some of the possible scenarios she’d worked out over the years. Pirates, seeking a chance to create their own Empires. Former Imperial Navy officers, carving out their own little empires in the ruins of the Empire. Newly-independent planets dragging up grudges from before the Unification Wars and starting a new series of interstellar wars. The Empire had been brutal, oppressive and run for the greater good of the Grand Senate, not humanity as a whole. It was terrifying to realise that the chaos caused by its fall might easily be worse.

  “We have a window of opportunity here,” she said. “I propose that we seek to fill the power vacuum.”

  There was a long moment of absolute silence, then everyone started talking at once. The Mistress blew her whistle angrily, glaring around her until she had achieved some semblance of order. They had to be deeply shocked, Sameena realised, with some amusement. Nothing else could convince them to break the Meet’s most sacred laws.

  “I have been gathering pieces of industrial production equipment for years,” she said. A handful of others had copied her idea, but she was light years ahead of them. “We would have the basic building blocks of an industrial base. I propose that we leverage those into creating a government, one that will replace the Empire in this sector.”

  She keyed her datapad, sending them all a copy of the proposal. “We will not seek to control worlds directly,” she continued. “Instead, we will merely provide a framework for interstellar law and common defence. We will encourage the behaviour we want rather than force it at gunpoint. In the long term, we will build a society that combines the best of the Empire with the best of ourselves.

  “I have already hired the remains of the Imperial Navy in this sector. We can build more warships, given time, to provide protection to our ships as they move from world to world – and to hunt down and eradicate pirates. Our industrial base can be expanded and used to support our position. We would no longer have to fear the government’s whims. We would be the government.”

  She nodded to the Mistress and waited, as calmly as she could, for the first question. The Captains were studying the document she’d sent them, looking for possible loopholes and potential problems. Unlike the Imperial Charter – which was hundreds of thousands of words long – it was simple and straight to the point. There would be little room for the kind of creative interpretation that made money for lawyers. Ethne had helped her to write and revise it until the document was as close to perfect as she could make it.

  A chime rang through the chamber. One of the Captains had a question. “You intend to hire the remains of the Imperial Navy,” he said, bluntly. “How do you know that you can trust the mercenaries?”

  Sameena decided not to point out that she had already hired them. “Because they need supplies and payment,” she said. “They cannot survive on their own for more than a few months. And because they have nowhere else to go.”

  She scowled, inwardly. Some of the traders had had bad experiences with Imperial Navy officers, particularly the ones who looked down on traders. They would welcome the Navy’s disappearance, at least until the pirate attacks really began to bite. By then, it would be too late. The new government – assuming they accepted it – would not have any laws banning weapons at all, but freighters would still never be warships. Pirates might be deterred ...

  ... But an Imperial Navy officer turned warlord wouldn't consider the armed freighters any kind of threat.

  The last Meet she’d attended had lasted for nearly two hours before the decision had been taken. This one seemed to go on for far longer, with questions being thrown at her from all sides and arguments popping up between Captains as they debated the merits of her proposal. It was difficult to keep track of who was on her side and who wasn't; several Captains went off on tangents and asked about funds that should have been saved in Imperial banks. The new government couldn't start by reimbursing them. Hell, the new government didn't even have a financial policy yet.

  A glance at her datapad showed her that data traffic between the starships was at an all-time high. Everyone seemed to be debating her proposal. The Mistress was having a hard time coping with the different speakers, despite the strict rules that should have supported her. It might be days, Sameena realised, before they came to an agreement. Her proposal was far more complex than a boycott of an inhabited star system or whatever else might affect the traders as a whole.

  “This issue remains one of trust,” one of the proposal’s strongest opponents said, finally. “How can we trust the Imperial Navy? We would be revealing far too much about ourselves to those we ... hired.”

  Sameena scowled, inwardly. She did have a solution that she thought would satisfy them – she was mildly surprised that it hadn't already been proposed – but it wasn't one she really wanted to use. But at least it would be her idea.

  “The current commander of the Imperial Navy’s Madagascar squadron is Commodore James Cook,” she said. “I propose to marry him.”

  That brought absolute silence. Ever since Brad had died – and they’d realised the size of her growing empire - there had been a string of marriage proposals from various traders. She’d turned them all down, knowing that there was nothing to gain from such marriages. It wasn't as if she’d needed to bind someone firmly to her crew. Marriage was serious business. The traders had understood her reluctance to commit herself.

  But if she was prepared to put herself on the table, she had to be serious.

  She would have felt amused at their reactions, if she hadn't known that she was committing herself. It was possible that Jamie would turn her down ... which would discredit her in front of the traders. Or that he would accept. Trader society might make or break marriages when it suited them, but they took them seriously. She would be unable to merely be married in name only.

  I will be expected to sleep with him, she thought. Cold ice seemed to flood through her veins. We will be husband and wife.

  She hadn't known much about sex on Jannah. Young girls were taught everything about ch
ildren, save how they were produced. She’d picked up more from some of the movies she’d watched on Logan, once she’d realised that steamy sex scenes were almost always included in the Empire’s entertainments. And she’d read a handful of books that Jayne had given her, back when she’d moved to join Brad. It was strange to realise that Jayne had known that Brad had hoped to marry her ...

  The thought of sharing herself was scary – and the thought of sharing her life was terrifying. On Jannah, everything a wife owned automatically belonged to the husband. It had been one of the reasons she'd been so reluctant to marry in the first place. The traders expected husband and wife to share everything, including political power. She would be bringing an outsider into the heart of the trader community ... just for a moment, she understood how Captain Hamilton must have felt, when he’d adopted her. And she had been a powerless stowaway.

  I chose this, she reminded herself. I can deal with it.

  Captain Hamilton caught her arm. “They’ll be arguing for hours,” he said. “You’re shaking like a leaf. Come and get some rest.”

  Sameena half-expected him to berate her for betraying Brad, but that wasn't the trader way. Marriages came to an end, either through death or separation ... and it happened. As long as the separation was amiable and the children were cared for, there would be no outside recrimination. No one would expect Sameena to remain single after Brad’s death.

  It took two days for the Meet to come to a consensus, a surprisingly long time. “The votes have been tallied,” the Mistress said. “We will support the plan, provided that the marriage between Captain Hussein-Hamilton and Commodore Cook goes ahead.”

  “Blood ties,” Captain Hamilton muttered in her ear. “Always the most reliable for us.”

  “I will return to Madagascar and propose to him,” Sameena said.