“Yes,” Sameena said. She hesitated, then admitted something she’d realised while watching Jayne at work. “I don't know how to type.”
“The machine has a basic tutoring program. You’ll pick it up,” Ethne assured her. “And once the report is done, we can go for lunch and then Paddy will teach you how to cook. Maybe you would be a better cook.”
“His food wasn't bad,” Sameena insisted. “I rather liked it.”
Ethne grinned. “He is good with the simple recipes,” she admitted. “It’s when things get complicated that he tends to run into problems.”
Chapter Six
However, value also depends on time and place. If I may borrow a term from a good economics primer, the value of a bagful of gold is quite high in the world – but almost worse than useless on a desert island. Would you rather have a bag of potatoes or gold on a desert island? You could not eat the gold.
- Professor Leo Caesius. The Science That Isn’t: Economics and the Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire.
Over the next two weeks, Sameena felt her life beginning to settle down into a routine that was both strange and comforting. Her mornings were spent in front of the tutoring machine, working her way through educational programs she knew to be designed for children much younger than her, while her afternoons were spent gaining practical experience around the freighter. Steve and James taught her a great deal about basic maintenance, while Brad taught her how to operate the helm console and Paddy taught her how to cook. Most of what her mother had taught her was still relevant, but the technology he used added its own wrinkles. The microwave alone would have revolutionised her life on Jannah if the technology had ever been imported.
“And to think that this technology actually predates space travel,” Paddy informed her, when she broke down and cried in the kitchen – the galley, as he called it. “Your planet’s founders were fools.”
Once, she would have found such a statement insulting – if not outright blasphemous. But after a week of reading as much as she could, she had the feeling that he was right. Jannah’s founders had wanted to preserve their own power base as much as they had wanted to preserve their religion and they’d done it by banning most technology from their world. If men and women had to work hard every day just to survive – and the schools taught rote learning rather than actual thought – there would be less opportunity for people to start to question the way things were. And, if people did question, there were always the Guardians, ready to step in and remove the questioner before it was too late.
The version of history she’d pulled out of the starship’s database had been far more complex than anything she’d learned on Jannah. Jayne had been right; there were plenty of Islamic worlds in the galaxy, all claiming to be the sole possessor of the true faith. Some of them didn't seem to differ from Jannah much, if at all; others seemed to embrace high technology or political and social innovations that threatened to turn the world upside down. Who would ever have imagined a world that wasn’t governed by clerics? Sameena hadn't ... until she’d realised that clerical worlds were in the minority.
“That’s what tends to happen,” Paddy told her, when she outlined her thoughts. “The planet’s founders try to get away from the” – he held up his hands in makeshift quotation marks – “evil demon called technology. And then their sons and daughters discover what their parents left behind and start demanding change – or simply emigrate in vast numbers, leaving the world behind to die on the vine. It’s amazing how being forced to live rough convinces you that technology is actually a good thing.”
He smirked at her expression. “You’d better get on with scrubbing the corridors,” he added, not unkindly. “You’re going to be learning how to use a weapon later and I don’t want to have to wait for you because the XO insists that you do it again.”
Sameena nodded and headed down towards the engineering compartment, where the vacuum mops and other cleaning supplies were stored. Everyone onboard took a turn scrubbing the corridors, she’d been told, along with cleaning out the pipes and several other duties that were thoroughly disgusting. Sameena didn't mind it as much as Steve and James, both of whom had complained about it endlessly when their mother handed out a list of chores, but then she’d spent plenty of time scrubbing floors on Jannah. The tools here made it much simpler to do the work.
She took a moment to check the berries as they floated within a nutrient solution. Once they had explained to him what the berries were, Steve had rigged up a hydroponics compartment using some of the emergency supplies Imperial Law insisted that all starships carry. Steve had explained that being able to force-grow algae for rations wasn't really a good idea at all – if they were stranded, they would probably grow old and die without hope of rescue – but the bureaucrats had insisted. Sameena had heard enough about them to realise that they were just as bad as the clerics back on Jannah, without the excuse of serving God.
The berries were growing at surprising speed, as the instructions from Uncle Muhammad had promised. Steve had suggested that they take the first harvest and use it to expand production, then start processing the berries into mead after they had enough to produce a few dozen bottles. Captain Hamilton was still thinking about the best way to sell them onwards, but it would be several weeks before they had to come to any final decision. Sameena took one last look, then hurried down to the supply cupboard. Ethne was a strict supervisor and she didn't want to let her down.
“You did well on your last set of tests,” Ethne said, as soon as Sameena appeared. “How have you been getting along with everyone else?”
Sameena hesitated. She’d grown to like everyone on the ship, although there were times when she was reminded just how different they were from her. Paddy and Jayne seemed to have no shame; they kissed regularly in front of the entire crew. Steve, meanwhile, had stripped to his shorts while working on the drives, embarrassing Sameena when she’d walked into the compartment and seen his bare chest. And Brad seemed torn between being friendly and being unable to look at her without blushing.
“I’m learning how to get along,” she said, finally. She hadn't dared ask anyone, but a quick review of the database had produced files on culture shock. It seemed to be a common problem in the Empire, particularly when dealing with isolated planets like Jannah. The trader clans didn't seem to have any problems with it. “But I have a long way to go.”
“Everyone speaks well of you,” Ethne said. “Steve was very pleased with how precise you were with the machine tools.”
Sameena felt herself flushing. It was good to think that her mother’s endless lessons in how to be a young lady had come in handy for something, even though her mother would have been horrified at where she was using them. Precision and dedication had been important to her, Sameena knew, and she’d used them in working with Steve’s tools.
Ethne bounced other questions off her as she went to work, removing as much dust as she could from the deck. Basic maintenance, Steve had told her time and time again, was the key to keeping the independent freighter functioning. It was easier to prevent a problem from arising than deal with it once it was too late. There were times when Sameena felt that she’d personally replaced every component on the ship twice over, although she knew that was absurd. Logan was colossal. It was strange to realise that there were other starships in the galaxy that made the medium freighter look tiny.
“Your bargaining skills aren't too bad,” Ethne said, afterwards. “All you really need is an appreciation for how much something ought to be worth.”
Sameena nodded. Jannah had valued gold and silver ... and both were almost absurdly cheap in the Empire. She’d puzzled over that until she’d realised that gold and silver – and other valuable metals – could be mined from asteroid belts. HE3, on the other hand, was important almost everywhere, as it powered everything from starships to planet-side fusion plants. It was tricky, sometimes, to figure out what was important – and would therefore bring a profit – and wha
t was a waste of space. In the right place, even canisters of oxygen could be worth a fortune.
“I’ll be taking you to Madagascar, once we get you an ID card,” Ethne added. “You can see the bargaining process for yourself. The kids will complain, but ...”
“You don’t have to,” Sameena objected. “They might deserve it more.”
“It’s your first chance to see somewhere away from your own planet,” Ethne pointed out. “And besides, it isn't as if you have assignments to hand in ... is it?”
Sameena nodded. Richard and Regina would be handing their assignments to the tutor at Madagascar when they finally arrived – and, if they did well, they would be allowed to visit the station rather than spending time rewriting their assignments. They’d pointed out that Sameena, who was actually behind them despite being older, should be subject to the same rules. Ethne hadn't bothered to say anything in response, apart from ordering the kids to carry on with their own assignments.
“Don’t worry,” Ethne added, dryly. “We’ll get you some assignments while we’re there.”
She inspected Sameena’s work, then nodded. “Very good,” she said. “I believe that you have an appointment with Paddy?”
“Yes,” Sameena said.
“Take weapons training seriously,” Ethne warned. “Anyone who fucks around with a weapon is lucky to live long enough to regret it.”
Sameena was still mulling over Ethne’s words when she entered the empty cargo hold that Paddy was using for training. The kids grinned at her as they finished cleaning their weapons, then headed out of the hatch, chattering excitedly to each other. Sameena felt an odd rush of affection as she watched them go – she’d always liked kids – before Paddy coughed, drawing her attention back to him. He was holding a single metal box in his hands.
“It is possible to make a fantastically complex weapon,” he said, as he pressed his thumb against the sensor on the box. “But we don’t use them. Why?”
“Because the more complex a device is, the more likely that it will break down,” Sameena said. Steve had told her pretty much the same thing when she’d been working on the ship’s internal systems. Much of the technology actually predated spaceflight. “The more things that can go wrong, the more likely that something will go wrong.”
“Steve does have such an elegant turn of phrase,” Paddy said, dryly. He smiled, as if there was something he found funny. “But he’s basically right.”
He opened the box and passed it to her. It held a simple pistol, gleaming silver under the single light mounted overhead. Sameena hesitated, feeling an odd sense of trepidation, and then touched the weapon with her fingers. It felt reassuringly solid as she brushed her fingertips across the handle.
“There are several rules you need to bear in mind at all times when dealing with weapons,” Paddy said. His eyes hardened suddenly. “If you break any of them, you will not enjoy the consequences. Do you understand me?”
Sameena nodded, wordlessly.
“Do not point your gun at anyone unless you mean to use it,” Paddy said, his eyes never leaving her face. “Do not trust anyone to tell you anything about your gun. Do not carry your gun off the ship without checking the local laws first. And do not give it to anyone else, unless there is no other choice.
“The gun has no mind of its own,” he added. “You, the bearer, are the one who will determine what it does, either deliberately or through fucking up. You are the one who will be held responsible for whatever it does. So be careful!”
He pulled the weapon out of the box and held it in front of Sameena’s face. “This is the safety,” he said. “When on, the gun will not fire. Make sure you keep the safety on unless you actually intend to use the gun. I’ve known people do themselves a serious injury through jamming the gun into the holster – or their pockets – without bothering to click the safety on first. Bear that in mind at all times.
“The gun needs to be taken apart, cleaned and then put back together regularly,” he continued. “Make sure you do it every day; if the gun gets jammed up, it will be unable to fire. Or it might explode in your hand.”
Paddy scowled. “The Army claims that this particular brand can take a great deal of mistreatment before it is rendered unserviceable. They’re right, I suppose, but people who take care of their weapons can expect their weapons to take care of them.”
Sameena sat down on the deck and carefully took the weapon apart, following his instructions. It was actually simple, compared to some of the components Steve had made her dismantle for practice; she oiled the interior and then put the gun back together again. Paddy passed her a clip of ammunition, then caught her hand before she could start loading it into the gun. Sameena winced in pain at his grip.
“You have the gun pointed at your leg,” he said, releasing her. “Be careful.”
She flushed, then loaded the gun. It felt deadlier, somehow, with ammunition loaded into the weapon. She touched the safety, smiling inwardly. The Guardians would be horrified if they saw a woman holding a gun. Women – and most men - were barred from all means of self-defence on Jannah.
“That’s the target,” Paddy said, pointing towards the silhouette at the far end of the compartment. “Take aim and shoot him.”
Sameena lifted the gun, took aim and pulled the trigger. It clicked.
Paddy laughed at her embarrassment. “Take off the safety,” he reminded her, dryly. “And then try to learn how to do it quickly.”
This time, the weapon jerked in her hand and produced a deafening sound. She saw a spark where the bullet had struck the far bulkhead, missing the target by several metres. Paddy patiently corrected her and told her to fire again. This time, she hit the target in the arm.
“It takes time to master a handgun enough to shoot accurately,” Paddy said, when she had run through the whole clip. “We shall be practicing every second day.”
He took back the weapon, removed the empty clip and then passed it back to her to clean.
“The Empire has a blanket ban on civilians owning weapons in the Core Worlds,” Paddy lectured, as Sameena took the weapon apart for the second time. “Outside the Core, the laws tend to differ depending on where you are. Keeping the weapon on the ship is almost always legal, but there are places where you cannot take it off the ship without special permits. If you are caught carrying a weapon there, they’ll ship you off to a penal colony faster than you can blink.”
He snorted. “Not that it really works,” he added. “There are enough illegal weapons on Earth to keep a revolution going for years.
“You need to research the laws thoroughly if you intend to go planet-side,” he warned. “The first-stage colony worlds tend to permit hunting rifles and pistols, but frown on anything military-grade. There’s a balance between making sure that the settlers can defend themselves from wild animals and not defend themselves from tax collectors.”
He shook his head. “And there are corporate sponsored worlds where weapons are banned completely. They know that an armed population will rise up against them at once.”
Sameena frowned. “My homeworld banned weapons too,” she said.
“Probably afraid that someone would start shooting at your Guardians,” Paddy said. He took back the weapon and examined it with a cynical eye, then nodded and put it back in the case. “They tend to disguise it behind concern for public safety, but that’s the usual motive.”
He snorted. “You can take the weapon with you when you go to Madagascar,” he explained, “but you need to be careful. If you punch a hole through the walls, they’ll put you through it before they seal it up. Or worse.”
Sameena nodded. She’d looked up the Empire’s laws – and then the simpler laws written for colonies that rarely saw an Imperial Navy starship. Most of them were brutally simple; a murderer was executed, a thief spent a lifetime on a penal world ... or indentured servitude. It didn't seem a very pleasant life.
“I shall be expecting your shooting to match the kids in a mo
nth,” he concluded. “Believe me, you will need to carry a weapon in places.”
“Thank you,” Sameena said.
He passed her the case. “Keep it in your cabin, but remember what I said about responsibility,” he said. “Clean it every day. And don’t practice shooting without someone else to supervise – one of the adults. The XO came very close to strangling the kids after they started to practice on their own and then claimed that they were supervising each other.”
“I won’t do that,” Sameena promised. “Besides, I don't have any ammunition.”
Paddy’s lips quirked into a smile. “You’d be surprised by how many recruits manage to miss that,” he said. “All those idiotic war movies show the characters possessing unlimited ammunition so they can fire madly towards the enemy. It doesn't work like that in real life.”
He passed her a pair of clips, then pushed her gently towards the hatch. “You’d better go catch some sleep,” he ordered. “You’ll be helping me cook tonight. Unless you want to do it yourself ...?”
Sameena made a face. “I think you’d better be there to supervise,” she said. There had been no way to know that putting metal in the microwave was asking for trouble ... at least until Paddy had pointed it out, sarcastically. It had been sparking like mad when she’d pulled it out. “I am not quite ready for it yet.”
Paddy snorted. “They’ll love your cooking,” he told her. “Besides, if they ever tasted military rations, they’d praise mine to the skies.”
Chapter Seven
This can be clearly seen with a cursory glance into the past. Salt, now so commonplace, was once used as a currency by the Roman Empire (and other states of that era.) Aluminium was once hideously expensive; now, it is almost worthless. The claim that the Prophet Muhammad was promised seventy-two raisins rather than virgins, which seems laughable on the surface, actually makes a great deal of sense. Raisins would have been immensely valuable to a merchant like Muhammad.
The Empire's Corps: Book 05 - The Outcast Page 6