On The Imperium’s Secret Service (Imperium Cicernus)

by Christopher Nuttall

  But she was worried, more worried than she wanted to admit, about Mai. Her sister seemed to have changed during their time in jail, clinging to Lord Fitzgerald as if he was their saviour – and indeed, he had been their saviour. Mariko had had her own crushes when she’d been younger and she knew how easy it was to delude oneself into believing that one’s affection was returned, but it might be dangerous to start any romance with Lord Fitzgerald. Mai had followed their mother in reading all the social news from Homeworld, including hundreds of carefully-written articles praising the Imperium’s aristocracy. She might believe that Lord Fitzgerald was a Prince Charming in truth. Mariko, a little older and a little wiser, knew better. Lord Fitzgerald might use Mai and then discard her, as so many other aristocrats had done to their young lovers. Mariko would have understood if a romance came to its end; Mai was too young to understand that certain romances were doomed from the start. Lord Fitzgerald would eventually be expected to have children and a Class Two Citizen, assuming that they were still considered Class Two, would not be a suitable mother.

  Shaking her head, she stood up and picked up her nightgown. One thing her father had taught her, more than once, was that if she had good reason to fear something, it was better to confront it directly. Plain speaking, he’d said, was easier to understand than anything else, even if it did sometimes cause offense. And that was most important of all when discussing marriage agreements. Mariko knew that he’d rejected no less than three suitors for her hand because they hadn’t been blunt enough to suit him. And because they didn’t bring anything he wanted or needed to the family.

  Donning the nightgown, she stepped out of her cabin and into the darkened corridors. The lights came on automatically, illuminating the wooden panelling and giving the whole ship a faintly spooky atmosphere. It was possible to fly an advanced starship with one or two crewmembers, but it left the ship feeling isolated, almost abandoned. Mariko had never had any problems onboard the Happy Wanderer, yet Bruce Wayne seemed to feel haunted. Perhaps it was the ghost of Lord Fitzgerald’s dead pilot, she told herself; Lord Fitzgerald hadn't been very clear on how he’d died. Cursing under her breath, she walked up to deck two, tapped a computer to check the status of the phase drive, and then stopped outside Lord Fitzgerald’s door. She hesitated, just long enough to curse herself for her own cowardice, and pressed her hand against the door chime. There was a long pause and then it hissed open, revealing a fully-lighted cabin. Lord Fitzgerald sat in an armchair, reading a datapad. He looked up at her as she entered his cabin and smiled.

  “Can’t sleep?”

  “No, Milord,” Mariko admitted, feeling herself flush. She was tired, and she knew that she needed to sleep before they started running more simulations tomorrow, but she also felt too keyed up to sleep. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Draw some hot milk from the producer,” Lord Fitzgerald said, waving towards a small drinks machine set into the nearest bulkhead. Mariko had seen a small collection of expensive wines and other drinks in the kitchen, but it seemed that Lord Fitzgerald was not in the habit of drinking to excess. There certainly didn't seem to be any alcohol in his cabin. “And then have a seat and talk to me.”

  He put the datapad aside, blanking the screen first, and looked up at her expectantly. Mariko wondered if he’d been accessing porn or something else he would have preferred not to share with anyone else, but there was no way to know. Besides, she wasn't sure that she wanted to know. Lord Fitzgerald seemed more of a decent aristocratic fop than anything else. Or perhaps not. He was wearing a pair of tight pyjamas and it was alarmingly clear that he was stronger physically than she had expected. It might have been the product of the body shops, or genetic modification like her own, but it was still surprising. She hadn’t seen him lift anything heavier than a knife and fork.

  Mariko settled down and studied him for a long moment, trying to decide what to say. She knew how to bargain with other traders, or planet-side shipping agents, but she’d never had to broach such a delicate subject with anyone. The hot milk tasted good in her mouth, good enough to make her feel like yawning. Lord Fitzgerald merely watched her and waited patiently for her to speak. Unlike some of the spoiled children she’d known from Edo, he seemed perfectly capable of waiting without becoming impatient.

  “I need to talk to you,” she said, finally. Lord Fitzgerald nodded, his lips twitching into a very brief smile before fading back into a droll blandness that seemed almost mocking. “It’s about Mai, my sister.”

  Lord Fitzgerald lifted a single eyebrow and waited. “She...she has a crush on you,” Mariko said, stumbling over the words. She sounded absurd, she knew, and yet she couldn't think of anything better to say. “Please don’t act on it. I...”

  She broke off. “Speak freely,” Lord Fitzgerald said, dryly. “I have learned the hard way to listen to truth when I hear it.”

  Mariko flushed, remembering his story about brief military service. Maybe there had been some truth in it after all. “My sister is young,” she said. “She doesn't know the universe as well as I do.”

  “Why, you sage old thing,” Lord Fitzgerald said. It took Mariko a moment to realise that she was being teased. “I hope that you have learned a few things from winding up in jail on one of the most corrupt planets in the sector?”

  “Yes, Milord,” Mariko said, feeling her flush deepen. “Look, it’s like this. I don’t want you to sleep with my sister.”

  Lord Fitzgerald looked mystified. “Surely that’s up to her,” he said, after a moment. He sounded as if he didn't quite understand what she was saying. “And me, of course.”

  Mariko took a breath. “You’re a young man with a young man’s desires,” she said, although in truth she wasn’t sure how old Lord Fitzgerald actually was. The records she’d pulled from the starship’s database hadn't been very clear, probably because the aristocracy preferred to keep biographical details to a bare minimum. Lord Fitzgerald could have been much older than her, using rejuvenation therapy to remain young and physically fit. “You have to be attracted to her.”

  “Perhaps,” Lord Fitzgerald said, vaguely. He looked at her sharply, his eyes suddenly narrowing. “Speak freely. What are you trying to say?”

  “I will do anything with you,” Mariko said, feeling sweat trickling down her back. Every other boy she’d dated, and allowed into her bed, had been on the same level as herself. Lord Fitzgerald, on the other hand, was very much her social superior. “Whatever you want, no matter how disgusting, I will do it. Just please don’t take Mai into your bed.”

  Lord Fitzgerald grinned, looking oddly boyish in the light. “And what if I take her on the bridge instead?”

  “Anywhere,” Mariko said, trying to cover her embarrassment with anger. “You can have me, willingly, anywhere you want, as long as you don’t touch her.”

  There was a long pause as Lord Fitzgerald studied her. “I do not intend to touch your sister,” he said, finally. Mariko had the odd impression that he was telling the truth. “She works for me, as do you. And I learned the hard way not to touch anyone who works for me.”

  Mariko looked at him, wondering what had happened in the past. A maid, perhaps hired for her youth and beauty, pulled into her employer’s bed? Or perhaps one of his tutors? There was no way to know, but some of the nonsense her mother had devoured about the aristocracy suggested all kinds of perversions. Perhaps Lord Fitzgerald liked boys instead of girls. Homosexuality wasn't forbidden in the Imperium, as a general rule, yet homosexuals tended not to produce children. Lord Fitzgerald might have been exiled because he refused to take a wife and produce children with her, even through artificial insemination. The aristocracy granted its children huge freedoms, but it expected them to live up to their obligations as well.

  “You can touch me,” Mariko said, knowing that she sounded desperate. “Just don’t touch her.”

  “I won’t touch her,” Lord Fitzgerald said. He grinned, suddenly. “I think that you’ve been under too much stress
lately. Go lie down – take a relaxant if you still can't sleep. You’ll want your wits about you tomorrow.”

  He hesitated, and then smiled again. “And call me Fitz,” he added. “This ship is too small for you to keep calling me Milord.”

  “Yes, my...Fitz,” Mariko said. She was still flushing from a mixture of embarrassment and relief. “I’m sorry for troubling you.”

  “It’s no trouble,” Lord Fitzgerald...Fitz...assured her. “But do get some sleep. You’ll feel much better in the morning.”

  He stood up, helped her to her feet and winked at her. On impulse, Mariko gave him a hug, curious to know how he would respond. He seemed surprised and then embraced her, almost like a brother would embrace a sister. And then he helped her to the door and waved goodbye. Shaking her head, Mariko walked back to her cabin and shut the door behind her. A moment later, she was in bed and trying to sleep again.

  ***

  “Hunting is one of the great sports,” Fitz said, the following morning. They’d shared breakfast in the dining room, checked out the ship’s systems, and then gathered in the small holochamber. “Some of the beasts are incredibly dangerous and have been known to kill hunters who think that they’re smarter than the dumb animal. I’ve lost a couple of friends to animals they held in absolute contempt.”

  He shook his head as he opened the ship’s weapon’s locker. Mariko felt her eyes open wide with surprise as she took in the collection of hunting rifles, assault rifles, handheld pistols and other weapons, including a handful she didn't recognise. The Imperium had strict laws on transporting weapons from world to world, although Fitz would probably be considered immune from prosecution. Besides, the laws simply didn't work very well. Along the Rim, having a gun in the house could make the difference between a settler surviving an alien attack or dying on a world thousands of light years from Homeworld. There were more illegal weapons drifting around the Rim than there were planets in the galaxy.

  “This is a basic hunting rifle,” he said, plucking one of the weapons off the rack and cocking it with easy skill. “It is designed to kill a charging animal before it can trample you into the dirt, assuming that you can get a shot off in time. I’ve hidden in trees and sniped wild animals from a distance, or gone on walking tours where we shot at everything that moved. Have you ever used a rifle before?”

  Mariko hesitated, and then nodded. Spacers were expected to know the basics, even if they didn't all carry weapons. Pirates were no respecters of merchant shipping and being able to fight back might have made the difference between survival and death. The hunting rifle looked more dangerous than the rifles she’d fired to prove she’d mastered the skills, but the basic principles seemed the same. Fitz passed it to her and she clicked the safety off, then on again, her tutor’s words echoing through her head. Never take anything for granted when a weapon is involved.

  “This is a single-shot weapon,” Fitz observed. “Multiple-shot weapons are considered cheating, even when you’re being chased by a Raptor with bad intentions. The bullets are designed to inflict as much damage as possible on their target in the hopes that trauma will help stun the beast even if it isn't killed outright. If you take off the butt and replace it with this” – he passed her a heavy clip – “you can use it in the simulator, simulating bullets.”

  He keyed a command into a console and activated the holochamber. They were suddenly standing in the middle of a desert, looking around them nervously. Two moons were rising in the far distance, even through the sun was blazing down from high overhead. Mariko had seen worlds with multiple moons before – they were very common – but this was something different. The world itself had been shaped to be exotic.

  A shape flickered at the corner of her eyes and then vanished. She turned, staring into the distance, but saw nothing apart from the haze. And then something moved again, racing towards them with blinding speed. It was moving so fast that she could barely get an impression of more than its size, just before it leapt up and lunged at her. Sharp teeth glimmered in front of her just before the illusion passed right through her.

  “If that had been a real Roadrunner, you’d be dead,” Fitz observed. He sounded oddly amused by her fake death. “They move with terrifying speed; I saw one once run down a man wearing powered combat armour. Maybe not quite as dangerous as the Mimic, or the Evolved Saurian, but quite dangerous enough.”

  Mai caught her breath. “You mean that Mimics are real?” She asked. “I always thought that they were a myth...”

  “They’re real enough,” Fitz assured her. “But we won’t be hunting them. Far too dangerous for anyone to try to hunt a Mimic in its own territory. Even the Imperial Zoo on Homeworld refuses to keep samples of the creatures.”

  He shrugged and tapped the console again. The desert vanished, to be replaced by a jungle. Mariko could hear a constant chattering in the background as the heat struck her, a sound that sent shivers running down her spine. The noise seemed to blend together into the sound of a generator, perhaps something she might use to power up a crashed system in emergencies. She couldn't think of what it could be.

  “Insects,” Fitz said, when she asked. “All of them making noises constantly until it becomes one sound. The sound of the jungle...when it stops, you know you’re in trouble. And with that in mind, I suggest you look for the Chameleon.”

  Mariko looked around. The jungle seemed an impassable mass of trees and creepers hanging down from high overhead. She couldn’t see how anyone could beat a path through it, at least not without powered equipment and a certain lack of concern for the environment. It was alive with activity, with thousands upon thousands of insects skimming into view and vanishing again in the trees. One tree seemed to be completely infested with thousands of ant-like creatures who marched in and out of it as if it was theirs and theirs alone.

  Something went crashing through the trees in the distance and she raised the rifle, peering into the gloom. Something was moving there...or was it just her imagination? It struck her suddenly that they were standing still, making themselves targets for anything that decided to hunt them instead of being hunted, but what could they do about it? The tiny clearing seemed to be an inescapable prison. She pointed the rifle towards the half-seen shape in the gloom and then hesitated. It seemed to have gone while she was looking for it...

  “A Chameleon can blend in with its surroundings,” Fitz said. He didn't seem bothered, but then he knew that it was all illusion. So did Mariko, but it still felt alarmingly real. Holochamber systems were rare outside the Core Worlds, even in pilot training centres. “You have to keep watching for signs of movement.”

  Mai looked up at him, still alarmingly worshipful. “How many of them have you killed?”

  “Nine,” Fitz said. He sounded pleased with himself. “And three almost killed me.”

  Something moved...and Mariko snapped off a shot at it. The bullet snapped through the branches and vanished into the distance. There was a flurry of motion as birds and insects scattered, hoping to escape the predatory humans, but no sign that she’d hit the Chameleon. She tried to listen, hoping to hear its footsteps, yet the sound of the living jungle drowned out its tread. And then she saw a faint shimmer right at the edge of the clearing and fired at it. Something the size of a large cat hit the ground and slowly shimmered into existence.

  “Its natural camouflage is very good,” Fitz said. “When it dies, it slowly reverts to its normal appearance. You need to watch the bastards at all times.”

  He grinned at them. “Do you think that you could learn to enjoy hunting?”

  “I don’t know,” Mariko admitted. “It seems terribly unsporting, somehow.”

  Fitz laughed. “Ah, but that’s where Tuff comes in,” he said. “The animals on the planet have an excellent chance of killing you, too.”

  Chapter Six

  “Approaching Tuff Phase Limit,” Mariko said. “Prepare to drop to sublight.”

  “Preparing to drop to sublight, aye,” Mai said
, from her console. Neither of them could avoid a little tension, even though Bruce Wayne’s drives had performed perfectly, better than either of them had expected. But leaving a pocket dimension, even at the projected endpoint, was always riskier than entering one. “Drive ready to disengage.”

  “Disengage in ten,” Mariko ordered. She counted down the seconds to zero. “Now!”

  The unearthly darkness of phase space seemed to come alive with light as they plunged back into the normal universe, heading directly for the planet ahead. Tuff was surrounded by starships, mostly space yachts like Bruce Wayne or interstellar passenger liners from a dozen different worlds. The Imperial Navy had installed a handful of planetary defence stations in orbit and backed them up with a small squadron of destroyers. It seemed an excessive amount of protection until Mariko realised that Fitz was hardly the only wealthy nobleman to come to Tuff on safari. They’d want some heavy protection if they were going to be slumming it along the Rim.