by J McGovern
‘Permission granted for landing, Captain,’ the voice said. ‘Come on down.’
Alyce exhaled slowly, cursing herself for not keeping the Beetle. She was almost certainly going to be in trouble for causing such alarm. Not only that, she had traded away Imperial property. She couldn’t help feeling some trepidation, but she managed to keep her emotions in check and made a successful landing on the planet’s surface.
They stepped out of the Wreck, and looked around at the planet. Alyce rarely got a chance to see the exterior of the planet up close; members of the Navy ranking lower than admiral were rarely required to visit Lightworld. As directed, she had landed the ship in a white circle many miles away from the main ‘city’, a security precaution because the ship was unknown. The planet’s curious atmosphere meant that the sky was a dull sepia colour, and the white terrain was perfectly level. In the distance, Alyce could see some of the maze-like structures that spread all across the planet, almost forming a circuit-board pattern. The air was perfectly still, and seemed oddly artificial — it was like breathing from an oxygen tank.
After they had waited outside the ship for a few moments, a roaring sound filled the air, increasing in intensity. Some sort of vehicle was heading in their direction. As it came closer, Alyce saw that it was a standard levitating buggy. It stopped at the ship, and an officer got off it, saluting to Alyce. It was Midshipman Barnes, the man that had accompanied her to Lightworld.
‘Good to see you, Midshipman,’ Alyce said, secretly relieved that it was no one more senior. It meant that she might not be in so much trouble after all.
‘Likewise, Captain,’ Midshipman Barnes said, smiling. He gestured to the buggy. ‘Please have a seat. I’ll take you straight to the Admiralty Board.’
They climbed into the buggy, which began to move again. Tekka stared out of the window, trying to observe as much as possible. Information about the planet was scarce, because no one except trusted members of the Navy and a few other privileged people were ever allowed near it.
The buggy reached the building after a short ride. It was an imposing building carved from white stone. The shape was almost a pyramid. Tekka knew from their last visit to Lightworld that miles of catacombs lay beneath the structure, spreading out under the ground like the roots of some great tree.
‘Follow me, Captain,’ Midshipman Barnes said, leading Captain Wickham and the others towards the building.
***
The full Admiralty Board was in session. Thirty officers sat at the sparkling black table, dressed in full ceremonial robes, their faces grave. They were talking in low voices, but fell silent when Alyce and her three companions were brought in. Admiral Andronica, wearing his gold-buttoned uniform, frowned when he saw what they were wearing. He didn’t think much to leather clothing.
‘Welcome,’ the First Naval Lord said. He managed to smile, but his face was serious. ‘Please say that you can enlighten us, Captain Wickham.’
‘I can,’ Alyce said simply. ‘But I fear that you will not like the truth.’
The First Naval Lord waved a hand. ‘Be frank and precise. Hold no piece of information back. Tell us your full report.’
‘Very well.’
Alyce proceeded to relate their entire experience from the moment of leaving the spaceport. She briefly told the Board about their purchase of the scrapyard ship from the Stolnites, and the visit to Clothes Direct, before moving on to the main body of the report. She told them, with a slight tremor in her voice, about their arrival on Chaos, including the dreadful creatures they witnessed there. Finally, lowering her voice slightly, she told the First Naval Lord and the rest of the admirals about their meeting with the Emperor’s brother Ozytan, and about his terrible plan regarding the Weerms.
When Alyce had finished the report, the First Naval Lord had turned very pale. He fixed his eyes on Alyce, his face softening a little. ‘You have been exceptionally brave, Captain Wickham, not to mention cunning and resourceful. The idea of purchasing the scrapyard ship, and the Proteist disguises, was masterful … masterful …’
A few heads nodded in quiet agreement, and Alyce felt herself colouring a little from pride.
‘And you three,’ the First Naval Lord said, turning to Glitz, Doland and Tekka. ‘Very, very well done.’
Glitz smiled. ‘Thank you, sir.’
The First Naval Lord was terrified after learning of Ozytan’s plan. But his feelings would not prevent him from showing due gratitude to those that had brought him the information. Glitz, Tekka and Doland — as well as receiving full pardons from the Senate — were given a reward of fifty thousand credits each, and Captain Wickham was given two months involuntary paid leave — despite her protestations — to recover from her ordeal. If there was a war looming, she wanted to fight! She didn’t want to be hidden away on some leisure planet, away from the action. But the First Naval Lord waved away her assertions, pointing out that she was not experienced in actual warfare. The Captain was convinced that the First Naval Lord’s attitude was because she was a woman, but she didn’t dare argue further.
After they had politely thanked the First Naval Lord for his kindness, they left the Admiralty Board Room and stood outside the white structure, waiting for Midshipman Barnes. The Midshipman arrived, and took them back to their ship in the buggy.
Captain Alyce Wickham got out of the buggy with Glitz and the others, and bowed courteously.
‘Thank you for your role in this mission,’ she said formally. ‘You can be sure that your assistance is most appreciated by the Imperium.’ She paused, and a slightly more human edge crept into her voice. ‘So … I guess this is it.’
‘I guess so,’ Glitz replied. ‘Here — you’d better have my contact chip.’
Doland and Tekka said nothing; they simply waited by the Wreck, eager to leave the planet before the First Naval Lord could change his mind and revoke their pardon.
‘Right,’ Alyce said, coughing. ‘Well … goodbye, Harlan Glitz.’
Glitz might have imagined it, but it almost seemed like a surge of tenderness rushed through her face. But she quickly turned, got back into the buggy, and drove back to the building with Midshipman Barnes. Glitz felt a sense of regret as she drove away, but knew deep down that their parting was inevitable. They were from different worlds. Alyce had all the admirable qualities — bravery, responsibility, patriotism. Glitz felt that he would never be able to measure up to such a woman.
He smiled weakly at Doland. ‘Come on, let’s go.’
‘Finally,’ Doland said, rolling his eyes. ‘Let’s get away from here.’
Without looking back, Glitz climbed into the Wreck with Doland and Tekka, and they made a speedy take-off. Within a few minutes, the planet Lightworld was simply a speck on the long-distance scanner. Glitz felt sure that he would never see Alyce Wickham ever again. He didn’t realise that he would be meeting her again very soon indeed.
Chapter Fourteen
Chamber of Stars
Ropeville
Politic System
Ropeville was the home of the Chamber of Stars, the Imperial Parliament. The Imperium was essentially an autocracy, a dictatorship presided over by a ruling body, the Grand Senate. However, there were times when the Emperor needed to call a full Parliament. Of course, the Grand Senate without exception were the real orchestrators of such events; the Emperor had no real personal power. If an Emperor called for a full session of the Chamber of Stars, it generally meant that the Senate either wanted to raise taxes or raise a larger army. In this instance, the Senate wanted to do the former.
Emperor Ferdinand was sitting in his golden throne at the head of the Parliament, waiting for all of the Planetary Ambassadors to arrive. Behind him, on rows of golden benches, sat the real figures of power — the members of the Senate. There were thousands of semi-autonomous planets in the Imperium, and each of these planets had at least one official representative in Parliament. The poor worlds, such as those on the Rim, or those with a majority a
lien population, were not permitted to be a member of the Chamber of Stars. On the whole, while the more favoured planets were allowed a degree of autonomy when managing their own affairs, the Grand Senate (using the Emperor as a puppet and mouthpiece, of course) had the only real power in the Imperium. However, the Senate did not have the power to raise taxes above a yearly increase of 4%. Unusual circumstances called for additional parliamentary agreement. In this instance, the Senate needed to charge all member planets of the Imperium a one-off tax, in order to fund a possible war.
The Chamber of Stars was a grand place, both in terms of scale and style. The ceiling was cavernous, and everything was coated in gold or silver. Representatives from each planet sat in separate gilded ‘boxes’, which moved around in a constant orbit around the room, ensuring that no ambassadors could get the impression that they were in a position of lesser or greater prestige in relation to the other members.
All around the chamber, the ambassadors took their places. The Emperor watched as the main representative of Alpha Centauri made her way into her seat. She was a beautiful mixed-race woman — half-human and half-Pixie. The event of a mixed-race person being elected to such a high office seemed to many to be an encouraging sign of improving relations with alien races. To others, it was a terrible crime to put such an abomination in a position of power. Within a few minutes, everyone was seated.
‘Welcome,’ the Emperor said.
He began to make the formal parliamentary introductions. It was a somewhat tedious process, but it was a necessary formality. Then he moved on to the list of issues brought forward by several planets. It seemed ridiculous to spend almost an hour discussing shipping disputes, galactic boundaries, the rudeness of Stolnites, and other minor issues, when there was the vital matter of defending the Imperium against its enemies to be discussed. But the Imperium was founded on centuries of unchanged ritual, and Emperor Ferdinand knew the importance of respecting tradition.
Finally, when all decisions regarding the trivial issues had either been resolved or postponed for further deliberation in another session, the Emperor began to tell the gathered ambassadors about the great danger posed by his brother, Ozytan. He held no detail back from the representatives; as members of the Imperium, they had a right to know everything. Of course, his words were not his own; the entire speech had been drawn up by the Senate. When he had finished the story — which had been interspersed with shocked exclamations — a terrible silence fell over the Chamber.
‘And now, my friends, I must ask a great thing of you,’ the Emperor concluded. ‘You must vote to donate to the Imperium a one-off payment of 5% A.P.G, to be paid in addition to your yearly tax amount. I understand that this is a lot to ask for, but I hope you will agree that my request matches the magnitude of the danger.’
The majority of the ambassadors did not need to think about the Emperor’s request. Many of them felt a great sense of pride at being part of the Imperium, which was founded on noble traditions. Even those who disliked the Imperium did not want to be conquered by a species as hellish as the Weerms. The members from the planet Nortan — a planet which was notorious as a seat of radical views — actually agreed with Ozytan’s motives. The idea of a democratic Imperium run entirely as a republic, without a single ruling figure, was very attractive to them. However, they could not support Ozytan’s actions. The idea of forcibly evolving a creature of pure evil was abhorrent to them, and they voted in support of Emperor Ferdinand, despite their liberal leanings.
The Emperor felt a wave of relief when there was overwhelming support for the Senate’s request.
‘Thank you, my friends,’ the Emperor said. ‘Thank you.’
Of course, the Emperor had no real power; he was simply a figurehead for the dictatorship of the Senate. He had brought the proposition before the Chamber of Stars because of the direct orders of the Senate; he could initiate no original motions of his own design. But Emperor Ferdinand had no wish to defy the Senate; he was happy to respect the historic precedent of rulership by the Grand Senate. His brother was the one who had always wished to rock the boat, to implement pointless changes, to spark senseless revolution. But now they would be able to raise an even mightier army to fight against Ozytan. Then his rebellious brother would see the true might of the Imperium.
***
The crew of the Wreck were heading towards the planet Necreon, a desert world in the Gold Sector. Tekka would depart at Necreon, leaving Glitz and Doland to travel back to the core worlds. Glitz didn’t know why Tekka wanted to go to Necreon — the planet was little more than a giant shoreless beach, with extreme temperatures and hardly any water. The planet was mostly inhabited by Stolnites, another reason why Glitz wouldn’t go there personally. But Tekka, when questioned, refused to explain why he wanted to be dropped off there.
‘I have my reasons,’ he had replied simply.
They reached Necreon in a matter of days. The ship felt somewhat empty without the presence of Alyce, and Glitz found the journey tiresome. They tried to pass the time by playing cards, drinking whisky, and watching old vidfilms, but it was hard to be cooped up in such a small ship. Glitz felt very relieved when they finally reached the planet.
‘Excellent,’ Tekka said, as the planet came into view out of the window.
It was a sand world, with a single small ocean on the northern hemisphere. It was a dry, barren planet, but after experiencing Chaos, it seemed positively hospitable. Tekka carefully landed the ship, and climbed out onto the desert. The sun was hot and bright; behind heat haze, he could see a group of cloaked Stolnites, sweeping the desert with metal detection sensors.
Glitz and Doland followed Tekka out of the ship, and stared out at the sandy planet. If there had been a nearby ocean, it might have seemed quite pleasant. But there was no refreshing blue sea to provide contrast and relief — the landscape was identical for miles around. Glitz was still wearing his leather ensemble from the Proteist shop, and he felt himself beginning to sweat under the heat of the sun.
‘Well,’ Tekka said. ‘Now I leave you.’
He shook hands unemotionally with Glitz and Doland. Glitz was surprised that he actually felt a little regretful about leaving him. They had all been through a lot together, and despite Tekka’s cold personality, he had found himself warming to him.
‘See you,’ Glitz said. ‘If you ever need anything, get in touch. Here’s my contact chip.’
Tekka nodded. ‘Thank you. Goodbye.’
Without saying another word, Tekka turned and began to stroll north across the desert, which was the opposite direction to where the Stolnites were headed. Glitz took one last look at the unfruitful planet, then climbed back into the Wreck.
***
‘Hydra is now back in business,’ Glitz said, grinning.
Using the ship’s computer, he had accessed the Net and reactivated his callsign. The Net was an anonymous data exchange which was loosely based around the ancient network architecture known in some legends as the Internet. But the Net had the advantage — or disadvantage, depending on your viewpoint — of being largely unrestricted and untraceable. It enabled totally anonymous transfer of data, at least in theory. In practice, there were still ways to track Net usage — if you were clever enough. The Office for Public Morality, a prominent arm of the Imperium, had several tricks up its sleeve when it came to monitoring Net use. However, monitoring was expensive, and even the great Imperium did not have sufficient resources to police all areas of the Net. Thus, before Glitz was arrested, he had been active on the Net for years, arranging to pick up illegal goods in addition to his official cargo.
‘You’re online again?’ Doland said.
‘Online and ready to go.’ A message popped up on the screen; someone was making an incoming call — Glitz instantly recognised the callsign.
‘Spaceman!’
‘Hydra!’ The man that had appeared on the screen was balding and corpulent, but he had an apparently cheery disposition. ‘I thought you we
re locked up for years!’
‘I escaped.’
‘Escaped? From Malus?’
‘I met a guy — a computer expert. Then after that …’ Glitz stopped himself. He had been about to tell Spaceman, which was the man’s net callsign, about his mission for the Imperium. But he quickly remembered that the Emperor had made them agree to keep the whole thing a secret. If people learned about the Weerms, they might panic. ‘… so now I’m heading to Edo, to collect a few things.’
‘Congratulations, then! Want to make a little detour? I might have a job for you, if you’re interested.’
‘What kind of job? Nothing illegal. I don’t want to get sent back to Malus.’
‘No, no, it’s nothing illegal, I promise you! Perhaps it involves … bending a few laws.’
Glitz frowned. He had known Spaceman for many years, although they had never actually met in person. The man had contacts all over the galaxy, and always seemed to find out if there was a money-making opportunity somewhere. However, he never liked to get his own hands dirty. If there was a possible job, he would tell someone else about it, taking a small commission for his troubles.