Shades of Empire (ThreeCon)

by Carmen Webster Buxton

  His new quarters were on level two. Niels knocked, but didn’t wait for an answer before he opened the door. The cubby proved to be aptly named. Slightly more than an overgrown closet, it had two bunks with brown coverlets, set into the far wall, two sets of drawers in the near wall, and a large locker at the end of the room. The total floor space couldn’t have been more than two and a half square meters. Not even the pale blue of the walls could make it look spacious.

  The man lying on the bottom bunk sat up when they came into the room.

  “Hello, Thad,” Niels said politely.

  “Hello,” Thaddeus said.

  “This is Alexander Napier. He’s going to be bunking in here with you.”

  Thaddeus turned his flat, incurious gaze to Alexander’s face. “Okay.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Alexander said, offering his hand. The cubby was so confined that he felt a little short of breath—as if the metallic-tasting air was in danger of running out.

  Thaddeus stared at Alexander’s outstretched hand for a moment, then offered his own hand in a slow, awkward handshake.

  “Thad will show you where to put your things,” Niels said to Alexander. “Your first shift starts at oh eight hundred. Report to the op center, and I’ll check you out on everything.”

  After Alexander had thanked Niels for his help, the first mate gave him one last curious glance and left, thereby doubling the available floor space and somehow freeing up more oxygen.

  Alexander waited, but Thaddeus didn’t say anything.

  “Which drawers should I use?” Alexander asked, finally.

  After a two-second pause, the astrogator pointed at the left column of drawers. “There’s nothing in those.”

  Alexander took this as an invitation and popped open the top drawer. It didn’t take him long to stow away the three uniforms, several sets of underclothes, socks, and other items he had been issued. He spared a thought for his belongings back on Gaulle, and wondered what had become of them. He hoped Diego or Luc had taken them, instead of the sergeant.

  Once he had finished putting away his new clothes, Alexander turned back to Thaddeus. “I assume the top bunk is the one that’s free?”

  “Yes.”

  It was a complete and accurate answer, but it didn’t auger well for his new roommate’s conversational skills. “Are you from Gaulle?”

  “No.”

  Alexander realized he would have to be more specific. “Where are you from?”

  There was a slight pause. Pauses seemed typical of all of Thaddeus’ conversation.

  “Terra.”

  The answer surprised Alexander. Even during his time on Space Station du Plessis he had never met a native Terran. Gossip had it that they were rare. At least Terra would give them something to talk about. “How long have you been on the Queen Bee?”

  Pause. “One year and eleven months.”

  He sounded almost like a prisoner. “You’re keeping close track. Don’t you like it here?”

  Pause. “It’s okay.”

  Alexander gave up. Getting Thaddeus to talk was a little like trying to dig out an octopus plant back in the Aquitaine. You could dig and dig and never get all the roots loose.

  He put one foot in the bracket on the wall and pulled himself up onto the top bunk. At least the bed was comfortable. “If I fall asleep, wake me up when it’s dinner time, okay?”

  Pause. “Okay.”

  Alexander closed his eyes and sighed. He opened them and stared at the pale blue expanse of ceiling. Considering his condition the day before, he was now in much better shape than he had been, but somehow he didn’t think sharing this cubby with Thaddeus was going to be any more stimulating than being alone in the dark in the life pod.

  Chapter Three

  Alexander dreamed again. He was a boy once more, a boy who had been taken abruptly from his home. He was fourteen, and he was back on the training base on Lubar.

  The base was an education, in more ways than one. The teachers were strict, the physical training rigorous, the discipline harsh. None of the boys in his dorm was from his part of the Aquitaine, and Alexander was both lonely and homesick. He missed his family and he missed the comforting routine of farm life. His own sergeant wasn’t particularly brutal, but Alexander had learned that some of them were. And most of all, Alexander hated being treated like a commodity, as if he had neither feelings nor a will of his own.

  Alexander planned an escape. He knew it would be difficult, because there were so few ways off of Lubar. Immense ships carried refined metals back to Gaulle, but they never landed on Lubar’s surface. Instead, cargo shuttles ferried load after load from the refineries to the cargo ships in space. The cargo shuttles didn’t even have air in their bays, let alone safety equipment.

  Alexander had decided that a troop transport making a return trip was his only option. He had learned the signs that one was arriving—dorm space being cleared, the shifting of students into new groupings. He was sure the next transport would be sent back empty, because there was no group of recruits near completion of their training.

  He had watched the pattern of shuttles as they ferried the new recruits down. Even ships that traveled only within the solar system never landed on a planet. Passenger ships always carried their own shuttles, which could also serve as life pods, and he knew that the last time the shuttles made the trip back up to their home ship, they would have a safety check first that would add several minutes to their down time.

  When the day came, Alexander cut classes and hustled over to the supply depot. He waited by the exit and managed to jump into the cargo bed of a loaded supply skimmer just as it was departing, and then hopped out when it stopped to unload at the spaceport. After loitering in the departure lounge for an hour, Alexander found a shuttle whose pilot was occupied in a flirtation with one of the ground staff. Alexander ducked into the open shuttle bay and hid himself behind the last row of seats. When he heard the doors shut and seal with a whoosh of displaced air, he stretched out flat on the floor and gripped the leg of the seat in front of him. The shuttle engines fired up and the whole vessel hummed for a few seconds, and then the engines went dead. A moment later the door unsealed and opened again.

  After the sound of heavy footfalls, a voice spoke. “You can come out now, kid. This shuttle isn’t going anywhere with you on board.”

  Alexander froze. The footfalls came nearer.

  “Come on, kid. I haven’t got all day, and if you make me come back there and drag you out, you won’t look any too pretty when you arrive at the brig.”

  Alexander sat up slowly and peered over the back of the seats. Five armed troopers stood there staring straight at him. The one in the middle had a sour look on his face.

  “Out!” he ordered.

  Alexander got to his feet and walked slowly down the aisle. As soon as he was close, the sour-faced man grabbed his arm and slapped a pair of wrist restraints on him.

  “You know, kid,” he said, his tone chatty, “I know you’re too dumb to realize these shuttles all have security monitors, but how did you figure you were going to get from the shuttle to the ship? They don’t even open the main doors, you know? They just dock the shuttles, and the pilots exit from their own compartments.”

  Alexander didn’t answer. He was wondering what would happen to him now. He had seen severe retribution imposed for breaking even minor rules, and trying to leave Lubar would never be seen as a minor infraction.

  They marched him to the brig and put him in a tiny, dark cell. After what seemed like hours, the door opened, and his sergeant stood there looking disgusted.

  “Come along, Napier,” he said. “The Commandant wants to see you.”

  A sick feeling grew in the pit of Alexander’s stomach. The only time the base commander had cared to interfere in a disciplinary case, he had ordered the recruit in question flogged. He had made all the other recruits watch the sentence being carried out, too.

  The Commandant was sitting in his off
ice when the sergeant pushed Alexander through the door. The Commandant looked up, subjected Alexander to a searching examination, and then frowned. “So this is Napier?”

  “Yes, sir,” said the sergeant.

  The Commandant’s smile made his face look like it would crack open. “You could have cost me my performance record, Napier. Did you know that?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Well,” the Commandant said, “you could have. What shall I do with you, Napier? What punishment would be so hellish that no one else ever tries anything so stupid again?”

  “Sir,” began the sergeant.

  “Shut up, sergeant,” the Commandant snapped. “Is Dugan still here?”

  The sergeant drew in a breath. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.”

  “Sir,” the sergeant interjected in an urgent tone, “the last time you sent a kid to Dugan for punishment, he almost didn’t make it.”

  “I remember. But the troops obviously don’t. It’s been three years, and most of the boys who were here then have moved on. It’s time for another lesson.”

  “Sir, regulations—”

  “Don’t quote regulations to me, sergeant! This boy gave up any security that the regs provided him when he went AWOL and then tried to leave this base!”

  “But, sir—”

  “I said shut up!”

  The sergeant shut his mouth tightly and stood at attention.

  “That’s better,” said the Commandant. “Now, take him to Dugan’s place. Tell Dugan he can do what he wants so long as the boy can walk out when he’s finished with him.”

  “For how long?” demanded the sergeant.

  The Commandant pondered briefly. “Until this time tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir,” the sergeant said woodenly.

  He took Alexander by the arm to steer him out into the corridor. He glanced up and down the hallway, and when no one else was visible, he pushed Alexander against the wall and took a deep breath.

  “Listen up, kid,” he said urgently. “You’re in for a rough time. Dugan is a sadist—first, last, and always. He gets off on inflicting pain, and he’s had lots of practice.”

  Alexander swallowed hard. He was both terrified and confused. “But who is he?”

  The sergeant shrugged. “He’s nobody special—just a creep in uniform. He should have been kicked out years ago, except he got the dirt on some general at IHQ. They let him sit out his second twenty as a quartermaster, but they make him do it here, where none of the higher-ups will be bothered by his peculiar habits.” The sergeant’s grip on Alexander’s arm tightened. “This is important, kid. I heard Dugan’s getting old. Used to be he could get his juice going just from watching someone suffer. Now he needs more direct stimulation. He’ll probably torture you to get himself hard and then rape you so he can get it off.”

  Alexander could feel the blood draining from his face.

  The sergeant nodded grimly. “Don’t fight him. And don’t be brave. Scream your head off. Let it show when he hurts you. The more you do, the better the chance that he’ll come quickly and get it over with.”

  Alexander stared at the sergeant, his heart racing and his breathing shortening to shallow gasps. Not even the brutal treatment he had received so far had prepared him for the possibility of this.

  “God damn!” the sergeant said. “God damn! I hate this job! Two more years until I can quit. Jesus, two more years!”

  He sighed and pulled Alexander with him as he started back down the corridor. “Come on, kid. Let’s go.”

  Alexander stirred in his sleep as he remembered the long walk through the corridors of the base. He remembered the big, burly man who had answered the door when the sergeant buzzed, and the slow, evil smile on the man’s face as he looked Alexander up and down in anticipation. He remembered the sound of the door closing behind the sergeant.

  Alexander screamed. He screamed again and again.

  “Napier!” someone was saying. “Napier, wake up!”

  Alexander sat up, conscious that he was dripping wet from perspiration and it was dark in the room.

  Thaddeus Jenner stood next to his bunk. In the dim lights that burned all night, Thaddeus looked almost intelligent as he peered at Alexander. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” Alexander said, dragging in air. “I’m okay.”

  “Bad dream?”

  “You could say so.”

  “Do you need to talk, or do you want to go back to sleep?”

  Alexander froze. Something was wrong. This wasn’t the monosyllabic moron who had sat morosely on his bunk all evening. Where were the pauses, the careful reluctance to say a word more than necessary?

  Alexander wiped the sweat from his face with the sheets. He needed time to think this over. “I’ll try to go back to sleep now.”

  “Okay,” Thaddeus said, reverting to type.

  Alexander lay there for a long while before he slept. He spent most of the time trying to determine if he were being fanciful or even paranoid. He decided in the end that the only thing to do was to keep a careful eye on Thaddeus Jenner. Fortunately, he would be ideally placed to do it.

  • • •

  Gaulle was the fourth of seven planets that circled Degollado. Slightly larger than Terra, it had one natural satellite, in the form of a pale golden moon, and two artificial ones, in the form of two orbiting space stations built to facilitate off-world trade. It took more than three days for the Queen Bee to make it from the outer edge of the system to the larger of the two stations, Space Station du Plessis.

  The ship docked exactly on schedule. Madeline left Niels to deal with customs and the port authorities, and headed straight for her best legal customer in the Degollado system.

  The branch office for Barranca Industries occupied a set of only three rooms on Level C of the station, but Madeline knew the company was large by Gaullian standards. The man she had come to see got to his feet when she entered his office.

  “Welcome, Captain Palestrino,” Jorge Olivera said, coming out from behind his desk. “How was your trip?”

  “Uneventful,” Madeline lied. “The best kind of space voyage.” She shook his hand, but her eyes were on his companion.

  The other occupant of the room had also risen when she came in. Madeline was quite sure she had never seen him before. He looked about thirty-five or so, tall and brown-haired, with a strong, square jaw and an otherwise ordinary face. His clothing caught her eye because it was so obviously expensive. The smooth lines of his soft gray jacket showed the hand of a custom tailor and the silvery fabric of his shirt looked costly.

  “I’d like you to meet my boss,” Olivera said. “Or more accurately, my boss’ boss’ boss.” He turned to the other man with a faint bow and said, “Count Barranca, may I present to you Madeline Palestrino, Captain of the merchant ship Queen Bee.”

  Count Barranca offered Madeline his hand.

  She shook it firmly, careful not to show any deference. It paid to be polite to customers, but it would never do if they thought she could be overawed by a title. “Pleased to meet you, Count.”

  “I’m delighted to meet you, Captain. Does the Queen Bee travel under ThreeCon registry?”

  She lifted her brows in surprise. Most Gaullians she had met showed no knowledge of the galaxy outside their system, let alone an interest in how government worked beyond the range of their own Empire. Of course, she had never met a noble before. Possibly they were more cosmopolitan in their outlook. “Yes, it does, actually. We’re registered in New Carolina, and that’s a ThreeCon world.”

  He nodded and waved her to a chair. “I hope you’ve brought Jorge good news.”

  She sat down, and they immediately followed suit. “I think so. I’ve got a thousand units of the adaptive die casters you requested. They’re in my hold and ready for delivery.”

  “Wonderful!” Count Barranca said. “This will give us a real advantage in our Shugart plants. Off-world technology still outperforms our local manufacturing
to a substantial degree.”

  Madeline knew it was true. “I’m surprised the Emperor is allowing you to import off-world machinery then, if it will wipe out your competition?”

  The Count’s smile was hard to read. Was he being polite or sarcastic? “Emperor Lothar may be brutal, but he’s not stupid. If we import the machinery rather than the manufactured goods, he has more control. Corruption in the Customs Service makes smuggling a real problem.”

  For just a second Madeline wondered if he knew about her less legitimate business. “I’ve heard that.”

  His expression stayed polite. Was he regretting speaking so frankly about his Emperor? “It’s common knowledge.” He got to his feet. “I’ll leave you and Jorge to work out the details, then,” He bowed to Madeline, made a polite farewell to his branch manager, and left.

  As soon as the door closed, Madeline turned her attention back to her customer. He seemed attentive but relaxed. “The boss checking up on you?” she asked bluntly. She believed in going straight to the point.

  Olivera smiled. “No more than usual. He drops by once a month or so. I’m used to it now. I think he likes the glimpse of the outside universe that the space station provides.”

  She nodded and dismissed all thoughts of Count Barranca. She had bills to pay, and this deal would be almost as lucrative as her gun running. “Well, then, when is Barranca Industries prepared to take delivery? I’ve got a schedule to keep, and I need to get back to the Rim in three weeks.”

  Olivera’s smile was polite. “As soon as you’re ready. Barranca Industries is as eager to buy as you are to sell.”

  Madeline thought about the weapons she had delivered to the rebel ship. Barranca Industries might not be so eager to do business if they knew about her other line of work. Count Barranca represented the old order that the rebels were trying to destroy. “This afternoon, then? As soon as we’re through customs.”

  He nodded, and she smiled to herself.

  • • •