What Needs Defending

by Hiroyuki Morioka

  “I implore each of you to come to some sort of agreement with the other three. That is, if there aren’t even more people claiming to be the Citizen Representative.”

  “There’s no time for that!” said Maydeen.

  And this time, Shungarr and Dohkfoo agreed.

  “What do you mean?” asked Jint.

  “Never mind that, I beg you, just recognize me as being the system’s representative, and give me your aid!”

  “Our aid?”

  “Unless you mean to say you can’t provide any aid?”

  “It depends on what exactly this ‘aid’ would entail. We do have enough goods and materials prepared for immediate dispatch to sustain all of the landworld citizens’ lives.”

  And that was no empty blather on Jint’s part, for though it was indeed customary for the Empire to destroy all enemy nations utterly, what that ultimately pointed to was wiping the interstellar power off the galactic map. It didn’t involve destroying the individual star systems that formerly constituted that power. Those systems were to be cherished parts of the Empire’s dominion, after all. They couldn’t just sit back and let those subjected planets fall to ruin.

  In fact, the Empire deployed the military to landworlds with some frequency. Usually, they sealed off their astrospace, and waited for the land peoples to raise a helpless peep. Then they’d simply incorporate those worlds into their economic web. Most planets could subsist for a while after connections with other systems were so severed. At the very least, it wouldn’t ignite a grave global-scale crisis of resources overnight. There were, however, times when a planet decided to keep struggling for a little too long, to the point of starvation. Moreover, some planets were already cursed with extremely low agricultural output. On planets like those, the Empire didn’t have the time to wait for the planet’s economy to get back on track. They needed to hand out emergency food supplies with pressing urgency. But those provisions didn’t come for free; the Abh were more than content to play the long game. They would collect their debts, no matter how many centuries it would take.

  In any case, while there was little information on the Lohbnahss Star System, they understood now that there was a need for emergency goods transport. The system was in want of all kinds of supplies, and could offer next to nothing in return. That was why the Basrogrh was accompanied by the three supply ships, which contained food and medicine enough to sustain a million people for two months’ time.

  “Now then, I’d like for your aid to be delivered to the proper administrative agencies,” said Maydeen.

  “So you’re in need of food and other goods, right?”

  Maydeen pulled a face like that was the most obvious thing in the universe. “Yes, that’s correct. If you need me to fill out forms of surrender or what have you, I’ll do it right now. There’s no point in hiding it, so I’ll just come out and make it plain as day: the food shortages are already at our doorstep. As for medicine, we have plenty in reserve, but we need food resupplies, and we need them now. And we of the administrative agencies are the only ones who can maintain a fair distribution system. If you give it to the self-proclaimed ‘Premiers,’ they’ll just divvy it out among their own buddies.”

  “That is not true,” butted in Dohkfoo. “My ‘buddies’ are the citizens of Lohbnahss. I will apportion the supplies to everyone, you have my word.”

  “Sure, but only to expand your own influence,” spat Maydeen.

  “Don’t listen to them; you can’t trust men. I have a duty to protect the women,” said Shungarr haughtily.

  “Feh,” snorted Anguson scornfully. “Weaklings who can’t defend their food by their own power haven’t got any right to it. We’re the only ones who can protect the food. Not like you spineless cowards. A government suit, a castrate, and a woman. None of you have got what it takes.”

  “You heard him. You see what’ll happen if you give it to him...” said Maydeen.

  “Is there a civil war?” said Lafier, who finally felt like joining the conversation.

  “Not yet. But we’re likely on the verge,” nodded Maydeen reluctantly.

  “What exactly is going on here?”

  “It’d appear you aren’t aware... most of the residents here are convicts serving sentences.”

  No. No, they hadn’t been aware.

  Lafier bit her lip. Either the Information Department was no longer up to snuff, or they’d foisted this wretched, star-crossed planet on her on purpose.

  She didn’t want to believe it. She was a soldier; she was prepared to see through any mission she was entrusted, no matter how bitter. They should have just told her; the idea they might not trust her not to balk at a mission was shocking to her core.

  On the other hand... The face of Commodore Biboth, her superior, floated to mind. Maybe he merely forgot to tell me.

  She had never really spoken with the commodore in charge of Fleet 4. In terms of military rank, he was virtually above the clouds compared to a mere Deca-Commander like her. And in terms of the imperial hierarchy, it was the reverse: she was a royal princess, and not even a member of a branch of one of the Twenty-Eight Founding Clans like Biboth could compare, especially given he was one of those nobles without a star-fief. All in all, they had little opportunity to interact. Even so, she’d heard tell of his reputation. His personality was very, in a word, Biboth-ian. And among the pedigreed clans of the Abh, “very Biboth-ian” left no room for interpretation.

  “So... you’re telling us that the entire planet of Lohbnahss II is a prison?” said Jint.

  “Yes. Exactly,” said the Chief Executive, nodding vigorously. “Only, we don’t call this place a ‘prison.’ It is a correctional center. I am both the Chief Executive and the Warden of the Correctional Center.”

  “I see.” Jint looked at Lafier with a relieved look on his face, and Lafier shared his sentiment. One mystery, solved. It also explained why the planet had no exports. The service it provided its economic zone was as a penitentiary.

  “Would that make the other three, uhh...” Jint faltered in his speech, “...inmates?”

  “We can’t abide by that label,” cut in Dohkfoo. “We may have been sentenced under the penal code of the United Humankind, and transferred to this planet by force... but Lohbnahss is no longer under UH control, and as a result, our status as ‘inmates’ doesn’t hold.”

  “Damn straight. There are no prisoners or guards anymore,” said Anguson.

  Lafier managed to keep it from showing, but she was in a state of bewilderment. Not once had she ever entertained the notion she’d have anything to do with a prison, and the reality that this entire planet was one big prison had yet to sink in (if, indeed, it ever would).

  Naturally, the Empire housed prisons of its own. Crimes committed on individual landworlds were to be dealt with on a local level, so she wasn’t too knowledgeable about planetary law and punishment, but she did know of criminal activity among Abhs and imperial citizens. The prisons they were sent to were comprised of isolated orbital facilities of moderate size, with every corner of their premises under watchful management. Or at least, that was what she’d heard. Granted, one could technically regard the planet of Lohbnahss II as a facility orbiting the star of Lohbnahss, but still. That was one gargantuan “facility.”

  “I didn’t have this in mind when I called, but now that we’re all on the line like this, I have a suggestion,” said Dohkfoo. “What say we implement a general election and have the people select the one legitimate representative?”

  “But how do we set up a board of elections?” replied Shungarr.

  “How about we ask the fine folks of the imperial military to lend a hand?” said Dohkfoo with a composed expression.

  “What’s a ‘board of elections’?” Lafier asked Jint under her breath.

  She’d heard of elections, and she knew the administrative meaning of “board.” What she didn’t understand was how they went together. Weren’t elections supposed to be free? Couldn’t anyone v
ote for anyone? Why would an election need an administrative board?

  “I don’t mind explaining it to you later, but for now, suffice it to say I don’t think it’s a job you’re suited for.”

  “Are you mocking me?” she said, a little miffed at his tone.

  “‘Course not. It’s just a question of familiarity,” he consoled her. Then he shook his head: “Actually, a royal princess administering an election might be a sight to see.”

  Upon seeing the look on Jint’s face, Lafier grew certain that she’d never, ever involve herself with something as incomprehensible as a “board of elections.” Yet much to her consternation, she didn’t know how to tactfully turn down the proposition.

  Fortunately for Lafier, someone else objected.

  “You must be joking!” shouted Maydeen, his face drawn tight with emotion. “Go on, try holding an election. The prisoners will just vote for another prisoner! They outnumber the guards by a huge margin. And no matter who becomes the Premier, their first priority will undoubtedly be to massacre us!”

  “So you do know how much we hate your guts,” said Anguson.

  “We can’t know that unless we try it,” said Dohkfoo, his voice soft and wheedling. “We former prisoners have our separate factions, and if the former guards and their families were to vote for Mr. Maydeen as a block...”

  “‘Former’ nothing! You’re still prisoners! And my subordinates are guards on active duty!” Veins were popping on Maydeen’s forehead.

  “I’m thinking of dropping the calls for a bit; you with me?” whispered Jint.

  “Yes,” nodded Lafier.

  Jint puffed out his chest. “Ahem, may I have your attention? We would like to take some time to confer amongst ourselves. Don’t call us; we’ll call you. We should be able to use the same frequency you’re using now, right? So please, give us a moment.”

  Unanimously, the four of them cried foul.

  “Do I cut the lines?” asked Ecryua, looking back at them.

  “Yep,” said Jint.

  And so they cut out.

  “Yours is a more stressful job than I’d expected,” said Vanguard Starpilot Sobash in sympathetic tones. He was here on the bridge of the Basrogrh as Senior Starpilot, having nothing to do with the duties of a lady agent. None of this directly concerned him at all.

  “If you feel that way, then we could really use your help,” said Jint.

  “I just hope I can help,” he replied, getting to his feet before addressing Lafier. “I did some research while you were speaking with them. It seems the stance the United Humankind takes towards criminals is ‘correction and rehabilitation’ as opposed to ‘punishment.’ At least, that’s what their official documents claim. But there’s also a certain percentage of criminals that the people don’t want back into society. And the argument goes that they have no choice but to erase those people from the public. That said, the UH has no capital punishment. So they send their undesirables to a handful of predetermined planets.”

  “And this happens to be one of them?” asked Lafier, who was already feeling burnt out by all of this.

  “Do you have any other idea as to what it might be?”

  “No,” Lafier sighed. “What, then, do you think we should do?”

  “In business, there is an ironclad rule: you must cut a deal with the right person. You can secure a successful deal to buy for cheap, but if the other party doesn’t have the goods, then all that effort will go to waste.”

  “Then who do you think ‘has the goods’?”

  “Well, it’s a bit complicated, because there’s no guarantee he does have the goods,” said Sobash, clasping his hands behind his back. “If there is, in fact, a ‘right person’ at all, it would have to be Mr. Maydeen. He has a grasp of the population and the distribution system, as well as an organized bureaucratic apparatus. None of the others can make that claim.”

  “Guess we’re going with the safe bet, huh,” said Inspector Supervisor and Mechanics Linewing Starpilot Samson, who was being too loud to be muttering to himself. “Boring.”

  “I agree with you there,” nodded Sobash, who flashed the Captain a look ripe with expectation. Ecryua and Samson were quick to follow suit and stare her way.

  “I have no intention of bucking the wisest course of action just to make things entertaining,” declared Lafier flatly. “Rearguard Ecryua, resume transmission with the Chief Executive.”

  “Him? Really?” asked Ecryua, clearly disappointed.

  “Yes, really.”

  The screen-window opened anew. A flustered Maydeen soon reappeared within it. “That was quick.”

  “I hereby recognize you as Landworld Citizen Representative,” said Lafier.

  “As was obvious from the outset.” Indeed, the Chief Executive didn’t look all that overjoyed.

  “There is no time, so I will postpone the ceremony of appointment. You need only recognize me as the Lady of this world, and that will complete the necessary procedures.”

  “I recognize you, of course.”

  “Then as you have requested, I will send you the provisions. Now designate a suitable port.”

  “There’s something I need to tell you before getting into anything else.”

  “What?”

  “We’ve made it this far managing the prisoners with the military forces of the Central Government backing us. But now the fleet has been exterminated. We’d been trying to keep that a secret, but it seems it’s slipped away from us. To be honest with you, I’m not confident we can hold them back with just the officers present on the planet.”

  “If it’s our forces you want, I’m afraid they’re rather occupied,” said Lafier. It was the Imperial Star Forces that felled that fleet, after all.

  “But surely it would coincide with the goal of granting provisions? To put it to you straight, the second those provisions drop down to the surface, the prisoners will riot. The Anguson Faction in particular is a gang of violent criminals.”

  “Hold on,” said Jint. “There’s no way you guys allowed the inmates to bear arms.”

  “Yes, of course. The prisoners are prohibited from possessing weapons. But unfortunately, the rules and regulations aren’t always upheld with the strictest... no, it’s time to put aside such circumlocution. We know they’ve got weapons. Those weapons are, at best, primitive gunpowder-based guns, but they’re more than a threat when their potential is used to the fullest.”

  “You don’t mean...”

  “We take a very lax approach to their supervision. There are a few restrictions placed on them, but for the most part, they lead lives no different from normal law-abiding citizens.”

  “Then isn’t this whole penitentiary kind of pointless?”

  “The Empire and UH philosophies on the matter must be different. This isn’t a penitentiary, and they aren’t being punished. They’re just separated from the rest of society.”

  “I see. But what about fights breaking out between prisoners...?”

  “The ‘Count of Hyde,’ I believe you called yourself?” said Maydeen, irritated. “I apologize, but there’s no time.”

  “Sorry. I just wanted more information.”

  “And I’d just like to ask how the imperial military would respond to a planetary riot.”

  “If the legitimate landworld administration files a request, then the Empire will intervene on its behalf.”

  “Forgive my impertinence, but do you have robust enough land forces for the job?”

  “Yes, the Star Forces have land units,” she said candidly. “But we cannot afford to station any in this system. We are at war. The airship fleets have enough to do as it is.”

  “Then it’s to no avail,” said Maydeen, dour-faced.

  “However, should an uprising occur, we’ll stop supplying food. If it suits you, we can even blow away some of the planet’s atmosphere. Would that not tamp down any potential mutinying?”

  The Chief Executive’s eyes reeled open with terror.


  Jint cleared his throat. “Ahem... you need to know that the Abh — er, I mean, we — tend to overdo it when dealing with landworlds. We don’t mean anything by it, honest. I think the root of the problem lies in taking the, uhh, stirring way of doing things in the vacuum of space and applying it to delicate atmospheres.”

  An awkward pause.

  “We really don’t mean anything by it, I swear.”

  “And I suppose that lack of malicious intent is supposed to impress the planet whose atmosphere disappeared?”

  “We don’t want to see that happen, either. I mean, apart from ceasing food aid, we won’t fire an actual attack on the surface from up here. Unless, that is, you all request it.”

  “That’d be suicide. Who’d request such a thing?”

  “Yes, but if you were to circulate the fact that we could attack if we wanted to, it’d serve as a decent deterrent, wouldn’t it?”

  “It wouldn’t be enough...” muttered Maydeen, contemplating.

  “We cannot promise you any more than that,” asserted Lafier. “Having airships sent here is simply out of the question.”

  “What if we were to hire a daigreeuth (mercenary corps)?” asked Sobash from the side.

  The Empire was extremely sensitive about monopolizing space warfare capabilities, but didn’t care one jot about landworld citizens’ warfare capabilities, no matter how fearsome, so long as they never crossed into the theater of the stars. Consequently, several military groups distinct from the Star Forces also existed within the Empire. For instance, there were groups commissioned to deal with situations a landworld administration’s police couldn’t handle, and those set up to guard the assets a grandee kept on a landworld. The for-profit militaries among these groups were called mercenary corps. And since mercenary corps weren’t a formal part of the Empire’s system, no one knew their overall numbers, though counting only groups granted the rüé gursiac (imperial permit) for interstellar travel, there were more than a thousand, providing more than five million landworld citizens with a livelihood. There were even some landworlds that had made dispatching mercenary corps their main industry. Their employers were chiefly grandees and landworld administrations, but the Star Forces were known to make use of them from time to time as well. And they were especially indispensable in times of war.