- Professor Leo Caesius. The Science That Isn’t: Economics and the Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire.
The inky darkness of Phase Space suddenly flared with light, then dimmed down to show a starfield outside the starship’s hull. Sameena caught her breath as she realised that she was seventeen light years from Jannah, far away enough that the light of the planet’s star originated from a time before she had been born. It was a concept she would never have understood – or even realised existed – before stowing away on the freighter.
“Local space seems empty, Captain,” Brad said. “Picking up beacons from Madagascar, dead ahead.”
Captain Hamilton smiled. “Shoot them our beacon,” he ordered. “And then take us in towards the station.”
Sameena settled back into her chair and watched as Brad worked his console. Space travel seemed to be both very fast and very slow, even though she knew that they were moving fast enough to circle Jannah within seconds. It would still take the ship hours to travel deeper into the system and match orbits with Madagascar. She pulled up the system display on her terminal and studied it with interest. Madagascar was a far more interesting star system than Jannah.
There was no Earth-like world in the system, merely a Mars-like world where genetically-engineered lichen and other modified crops were slowly attempting to turn the barren world into a garden spot. The terraforming process, according to the files she'd read, had been underway for nearly two hundred years and would take at least another five hundred more, unless the Empire chose to make an additional investment in the system. Instead, it seemed that the settlers were content to wait. There was no shortage of Earth-like worlds in the sector that didn’t need extensive terraforming before settlement.
Madagascar itself was a large moon orbiting a gas giant, which was surrounded by a handful of cloudscoops, industrial nodes and an Imperial Navy shipyard. Sameena found herself studying the cloudscoops with considerable interest as the freighter approached the moon; she knew, from her research, that the cloudscoops underpinned the interstellar economy. A dozen large ships she recognised as tankers were heading away from the gas giant as they approached, escorted by a handful of smaller ships. Pirates, according to Captain Hamilton, had been growing bolder in the last few years, pressing attacks against isolated colony worlds and starships travelling independently. A HE3 tanker would be a valuable prize.
“Steer us towards Orbit Three,” Captain Hamilton ordered. “We’ll have to see what sort of contract we can find here.”
Sameena frowned, inwardly. Logan hadn't taken much from Jannah, apart from a handful of sealed crates that were intended to be passed on to a shipping agent unopened. She had a suspicion she knew what was in the crates, but Captain Hamilton had told her that they weren’t allowed to open them or they might be sued. There would be a flat fee for delivery and little else. Perhaps they really needed to sell some of the mead. But producing it was going to be difficult.
Orbit Three came into view. Sameena stared, her brain unable to quite process what it was seeing. The orbital station was a massive rock, studded with domes and long struts that reached out towards incoming freighters. Hundreds of tiny lights bustled around the structure; it took her a moment to realise that they were shuttles, going to and from the moon below. Some of the struts were attached to freighters, she saw as they came closer; others were empty, just waiting for someone to arrive.
“We have permission to dock,” Ethne said, softly. “Captain?”
“Take us in,” her husband ordered. “Gently, if you please.”
Sameena barely felt the faint quiver that ran through the ship as they docked with the station. There was a flicker of discomfort as the artificial gravity field adjusted itself to match the field inside the station, then nothing. The omnipresent thrumming echoing through the ship slowly faded away to nothingness. Oddly, it’s absence made her feel uncomfortable.
“Good work,” Captain Hamilton said. “I shall see to the transhipment of our goods. Ethne, if you would care to take Sameena ...”
“That isn’t fair,” Richard protested. Like Sameena, he and his sister had been invited to watch as the ship came into port. “She didn't complete her assignments.”
Captain Hamilton gave him a stern look. “And yours, I trust, are perfect?”
Richard reddened, but said nothing.
“Besides, she has yet to start properly,” Ethne added. She looked over at Sameena. “Keep the shipsuit on, but wear the clothes you brought from your homeworld over it. Luckily, no one here is likely to recognise your point of origin as long as you don’t wear the scarf.”
Sameena nodded, hiding her embarrassment. She knew that she was supposed to wear a headscarf when near an unrelated man – and there were six unrelated men on the freighter – but she’d given up after the second day. Now ... the thought of not wearing it made her cringe, yet she didn't have a choice. She didn't want to be publically identified as a refugee from anywhere.
“And take your pistol,” Paddy added. “Madagascar allows open carry, but be careful you don’t shoot the wrong person.”
“I won’t,” Sameena assured him.
She went back to her cabin, pulled the clothes she’d brought from Jannah out of her drawer and peered at them. Compared to what Jayne wore, they were almost ridiculously covering ... but they still felt comfortable. She dressed quickly, then walked down to the airlock. Ethne was already standing there, holding a terminal in her hand.
“Don’t say a word, unless you get asked a direct question,” she warned, as she started to open the airlock. “Stick to the script, if you do get asked something – anything. Madagascar generally minds its own business, but sometimes there are changes.”
She led the way through the airlock, down a long tube that seemed dangerously fragile, and through a second airlock. The smell struck Sameena as soon as the airlock hissed open, a strange mixture of unwashed humans, spices, alien cooking and plenty of other smells she couldn't quite identify. She remembered what she’d been told about everywhere smelling differently, particularly to newcomers, but it was still hard to take a deep breath. Inside, Ethne spoke briefly to a black-uniformed man and then walked past him. The man gave her a sidelong glance as she passed, but said nothing.
“Madagascar doesn't have much of a permanent population on the surface, despite the presence of the cloudscoops,” Ethne explained, as they walked down a long corridor. “Most of the inhabitants prefer to live in orbit.”
They reached the end of the corridor. Sameena stopped, dead. Ahead of them was a tangled mass of tiny stalls, shops built into the walls ... and thousands of people, walking around in hundreds of different clothing styles. There were women who were completely topless, men wearing clothes so bright that it hurt her eyes to look at them ... one man seemed to be dressed in living snakes and little else. One of the topless woman caught her eye and winked at her; Sameena flushed and shrank back behind Ethne. The sight was completely overwhelming.
A man and a woman walked past her, wearing drab clothes. There was something wrong with their faces, she realised, but she couldn't see what until the woman turned slightly, revealing that she had pointy ears. Sameena stared; she’d researched body-modification technology, back when she’d realised what it could do for her, but pointy ears seemed a little extreme.
“They’re a ... religious sect,” Ethne explained, when Sameena asked. “Dedicated to the principles of pure logic and absolute emotional control. It’s quite rare to see them this far from their homeworld.”
Sameena found herself looking back at the pair. “And they do that to themselves deliberately?”
Ethne shrugged. “The changes to their ears – and a few others intended to make life on their homeworld more bearable – are actually quite minor,” she said. “There are others who are far more extreme. I know a world that is inhabited by mermen and mermaids, humans with fishy tails and a thoroughly weird outlook on life.”
“I don’t believe it
,” Sameena said. “You’re pulling my leg.”
“Go look it up,” Ethne said. She gave Sameena a thin-lipped smile. “I’ve always found it useful never to underestimate the limits of human stupidity.”
She led Sameena forward into the mass of stalls. Sameena looked around, seeing men and women who were huge and others who were tiny; she would have thought they were children if they hadn't looked physically mature. Some had white, black, brown or yellow skins; others seemed to have gifted themselves with biologically impossible skin tones. One man, with bright blue skin, seemed to be arguing loudly with another man over the price of foodstuffs at his stall.
There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the stalls, she realised as they moved deeper into the crush. Food stalls – her stomach rumbled as she smelled something hot and spicy – were right next to stalls that sold clothes or weapons. One large stall was crammed with weapons, ranging from pistols like the one Paddy had given her to massive weapons that were taller than Sameena herself. Behind the weapons, there were walking suits of armour, all pitted and scarred from years of active service. She felt herself flushing as she saw one suit of armour with very prominent breasts, suggesting that whoever had ordered it was larger than Jayne.
“In here,” Ethne said, pulling her towards a wall. There was a door half-concealed behind a large clothing store. “You and Jayne can go clothes shopping later.”
The racket behind them faded away as the door closed with a loud thud. Sameena frowned as she saw the darkened corridor, blocked by two of the oversized red-skinned men. They didn't seem to be carrying any weapons, but their clenched fists seemed larger than her head. She had a feeling that if she shot one of them he probably wouldn't notice.
“We’re here to see Jack,” Ethne said, briskly. If she was intimidated by the men, she didn't show it. “I think he knows who we are.”
There was a long pause – long enough for Sameena to realise that the men were using some form of communication system to talk to their superiors – and then they stepped aside, motioning for Ethne and Sameena to walk past them. Ethne led Sameena down the corridor and through a door that opened as they approached. Inside, a man with a curiously immobile face sat at a desk facing them.
“Be seated,” he said. His voice was flatter than the standard voice produced by the tutoring machine. “Madame Hamilton. What can I do for you?”
“We need a set of false ID papers,” Ethne said. She motioned to Sameena. “Something that will suffice for the nonce.”
Jack’s gaze shifted to Sameena and she had to fight not to look away. His eyelids were completely missing, rendering his stare truly terrifying. She couldn't understand how he could sleep without being able to close his eyes.
“That should be doable, provided that she has no record,” Jack said. He looked back at Ethne. “Does she have a record?”
“No,” Ethne said, flatly. “There should be no record of her birth outside her homeworld.”
“A black colony, then,” Jack said. He picked up a terminal and peered down at it. “I’ll give her residency papers from the Lumpur Cluster. They send hundreds of people to the Empire every year, so that won't raise any eyebrows. That can be leveraged into getting her an Empire-standard ID card. There’s nothing particularly special about her genotype, is there?”
“Just a little hackwork,” Ethne said. “Nothing specific to her homeworld.”
“Good,” Jack said. He gave Sameena a creepy smile, then passed her the terminal. “Press your fingertips against the indicated places.”
Sameena obeyed, then passed the terminal back to him.
“Good,” he said. There was a brief pause. “No trace of your fingerprints or DNA code in the Imperial Criminal Database.” He looked over at Ethne. “Did you bring the other documents?”
Ethne produced a datachip from her pocket and dropped it on the table. “Medical profile, starship schedules, guardianship and sponsor records, a handful of educational certificates from a Class-A rated machine. We plan to get more of them this week.”
“Educational certificates aren’t that important,” Jack said, dismissively. He looked back at Sameena. “Come back in two days to pick up your documents. Welcome to the Empire.”
Ethne didn't say anything until they were back onboard the freighter. “Jack isn't exactly cheap, but he’s the best in the business,” she explained. “I think it would be better not to have to answer too many questions about where we actually picked you up. Given our flight path over the last two years, it would be difficult for someone to pick holes in your story. As long as you don't try to lie too blatantly, it should be safe enough.”
She paused. “We listed ourselves as your guardians” – she looked apologetic as Sameena flinched at the word – “and sponsors. Try not to get in trouble, as we will be liable for everything you do. It’s basically the same arrangement as we have with the kids, but you don’t have anyone else to speak for you. So be careful.”
“Thank you,” Sameena said, giving Ethne a hug. “But ... why did he think I was a criminal?”
“You’re not the only person who might want a false ID,” Ethne pointed out, rather dryly. “If you’d had a criminal record, Jack would have had to work harder to ensure that there was nothing to encourage a suspicious customs officer to carry out a more thorough check. As it is, you’re clean, just unregistered. Which would have made life difficult for you if you wanted to find a job without registering.”
Sameena frowned. She could, in theory, apply for asylum, but a careful review of the databases had exposed the problems with that approach. The Imperial Navy might view her as underage, and therefore not considered capable of making decisions for herself, or they might conclude that local law held priority and return her to Jannah. Even if they allowed her to stay on Madagascar or another colony, she had no qualifications they would recognise, ensuring that she would be doomed to eternal poverty. Or be forced to join a colony mission to a low-tech world.
“Thank you,” she said, again. It was funny how quickly she’d lost her respect for the law ... what little respect she’d had in the first place, she had to admit. If she’d respected her homeworld’s law, she would never have striven to learn what her father had been trying to teach her. “But how do we know he won’t betray us?”
“Too many people would want him dead if he spoke the name of even one of his clients,” Ethne explained. “And he has an implant in his skull that will kill him if it thinks he’s being interrogated. He’s as trustworthy as a forger and hacker ever gets.”
She sobered. “Which isn't very far, really.”
Sameena shivered. “What do we do now?”
Ethne smiled, nastily. “You have a couple of days, which I would suggest you spend with the tutoring machine,” she said. “The tutor on Madagascar will want to examine you personally once you have the papers, so you can prepare for your exams. Unless Steve wants you ... he has some components he was talking about stripping out and replacing, assuming that we can find the money to pay for them. Costs of spare parts keep going upwards.”
Sameena scowled. “Why?”
“There’s a shortage, of course,” Ethne said. She nodded as they reached Sameena’s cabin. “Have a nap, then join us for dinner tonight. We’ll be bringing food back from Madagascar rather than cooking for ourselves, which should be a relief.”
“Anyone would think that you don’t like my cooking,” Sameena said, deadpan. Part of her felt a little insulted. Paddy had allowed her to take over the cooking full time one week away from Madagascar. “I do try to cook well.”
“But there are limits to what you can do with the equipment on hand,” Ethne said. “I used to cook myself. It’s a very useful skill, but you don’t get high-class meals in space unless you happen to travel on a luxury liner. And that costs more money than most people make in their entire lives.”
Sameena nodded, then stepped into her cabin and picked up her terminal. This time, a new icon appeared on the screen whe
n she clicked it on, inviting her to access the datanet binding Madagascar together. Carefully, she accessed the network and downloaded a list of prices from the seven main distribution companies in the system. Ethne had been right, she realised grimly. Prices were going up. She’d thought about using the money on her Credit Coin to fund the purchases, but it was clear that she simply didn't have enough. Not if she wanted to pay Jack too.
“That’s interesting,” she mused to herself, as she started asking questions. The basic laws of economics should be the same on Madagascar as they were on Jannah, even if the two worlds were completely dissimilar. “Now, where do the spare parts actually come from?”
Slowly, very slowly, the germ of an idea started to form in her mind.
Chapter Eight
The foundations of basic economies rested on the barter system, which might operate through a cobbler (shoe-maker) exchanging a pair of shoes with the blacksmith, in exchange for the blacksmith producing his tools. The blacksmith might also have an understanding with the local butcher, who would give the blacksmith some meat in exchange for the knives he used to cut up the animals. And so on.
- Professor Leo Caesius. The Science That Isn’t: Economics and the Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire.
Two days later, she sat back from the terminal with a sigh of relief.
“Congratulations,” Professor Sorrel said. He was an elderly man with an air of fussy precision that reminded Sameena of the clerics back on Jannah. “You have completed the placement exams. Welcome to the program.”
He held out a hand. After a moment’s hesitation, Sameena took it and they shook hands.
“I shall work out a lesson plan for you this afternoon and relay it to your ship,” he continued. “You will be expected to turn in essays and reports upon your return to Madagascar or another associated port, which will be marked by myself or one of the other tutors. This chip” – he pulled a datachip out of his pocket and passed it to her – “contains specific information for your guardian and for any other tutors, should you be unable to return. I should warn you that accessing it yourself will be considered cheating.”
The Empire's Corps: Book 05 - The Outcast Page 7