Very substantial, Sameena thought. The Grand Senators were wealthy enough to buy entire sectors out of pocket change. Sameena’s little empire would vanish without trace in the vast interstellar corporations they'd built up to support their position. But she did have something the Admiral might want ...
“Call him,” she ordered. “Tell him that I want to talk.”
She recalled what Jamie had told her about his nominal superior officer and smiled inwardly as he was shown into her room. He spent most of his time in the pleasure dens, leaving the station's management in the hands of his XO ... and he was deeply corrupt. Quite a few consignments of spare parts had gone missing while he’d been in charge. Nothing had been proven, of course. It would be a brave investigator who brought a complaint against a Grand Senator’s relative, no matter how distant.
Admiral Villeneuve certainly looked corrupt, she decided. He was fat, wearing a perfectly-tailored uniform that couldn't quite hide the bulge and eyed her as if she was something on the table waiting to be devoured. Given a chance, she realised, he would be quite as unpleasant as Colonel Desiree. The rumours she'd heard about some of the more ... extreme pleasure dens had chilled her to the bone.
“Miss Hussein,” he said, with a half bow. “I must say that the case against you looks quite bad.”
He was definitely angling for a bribe, Sameena decided, as Hernandez left them alone. “I told the truth,” she said. “Your own doctor confirmed that.”
“So she did,” Admiral Villeneuve said. He gave her a lopsided smirk. “What can I do for you – and what can you do for me?”
Sameena winced, fighting down the urge to giggle. He wasn't even trying to hide what he was doing. It galled her to offer bribes, even though they had been a fact of life on Jannah and still were on Tabasco. But there was no choice.
“I can offer you a consignment of Firewater Mead,” she said, calmly. “Fifty bottles, to be precise.”
His eyes went very wide. “Fifty bottles?”
“I have been stockpiling them for a rainy day,” Sameena said. Fifty bottles concentrated in one place wasn't entirely unbelievable. He’d know that something was fishy if she told him that she had over five hundred bottles stockpiled. “Would you be interested?”
“I can ensure that no charges are pressed against you,” the Admiral offered. “The bank would get the ship, but you would be a free woman.”
Sameena shook her head, unable to believe the man's gall. He was trying to take both sets of bribes by satisfying both the bank and herself.
“Fifty bottles would also be enough to get me out of trouble,” she pointed out. “You get the bottles in exchange for my marriage being confirmed and the bank told to go” – she stopped herself from using a very unladylike word just in time – “pound sand.”
“They will still get the money your husband owed them,” Admiral Villeneuve pointed out, snidely. He reached across and patted her knee. “I can’t cancel that so easily.”
“I never refused to pay,” Sameena said. She kept her voice calm, despite his unwelcome touch. Was he hinting that he wanted more than just money – or mead? “All you have to do is ensure that my marriage is declared legal.”
She watched the thoughts passing over the Admiral’s chubby face. The bank had probably offered him money, but money was growing increasingly worthless. Fifty bottles of Firewater Mead, on the other hand, would go a very long way. And if they’d offered to cancel his debts instead ... well, he could sell a few bottles and pay them back.
“I shall see to it,” he said. His eyes narrowed until they almost vanished in folds of flesh. “But I should warn you that cheating me will prove to be very bad for your health.”
Sameena said nothing as he left.
Hernandez entered a moment later. “What did you offer him?”
“Something substantial,” Sameena admitted. It was quite possible that she’d overpaid the Admiral – and the worst of it was that she didn't even know if he would stay bought. “But you don’t need to know the details.”
“I suppose not,” the lawyer said. “But ignorance isn't always a defence.”
Ten minutes later, they were called back into the courtroom, where the Commodore briefly stated that he had consulted the precedents and decided that the marriage contract was borderline legal. Sameena would still be liable for Brad’s debts, on his original schedule, but she would get to keep the ship. The entire courtroom erupted in cheers once he had finished speaking, leaving the bank’s lawyer looking furious. Bankers were always necessary, but universally despised.
“They may try to move up the payment schedule,” Hernandez warned. He sounded mildly amused at the prospect. “If they are pissed at you, and they will be, they might just push it forward. There’s normally a clause or two in the original contract that would give them a facade of legality. The court decision could go either way.”
Sameena shrugged. Between the money from Rosa and her earnings elsewhere she had more than enough to pay back the entire debt. Perhaps she would do it now, just to rub their noses in their defeat. They wouldn't be able to claim any further interest once the debt was paid. But Brad was dead. Nothing she could do would ever bring him back.
“I’ll deal with it if it happens,” she said.
Captain Hamilton made his way over to stand beside her. “You did well,” he said. “But I’d suggest getting some sleep now. Come back to Logan and sleep.”
Sameena nodded. Barbara was sleeping in her own room now, right next to the other refugees. Lead Pipe was empty ... she’d have to see about getting more crew before she left the asteroid. She couldn't continue to handle the ship on her own. But taking someone else on would seem almost like betraying Brad.
“I'm coming,” she said. There was so much she wanted to say, but she couldn't find the words. “Thank you.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
More commonly, governments looked upon successful businesses as sources of revenue. A business could be taxed heavily to support government spending. However, these taxes could often prove another burden on the businesses, forcing them to either work hard to avoid the taxes by corrupting the law or collapse when they were unable to make their payments.
- Professor Leo Caesius. The Science That Isn’t: Economics and the Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire.
“We are those who are truly free,” Captain Hamilton said.
Sameena floated in space, wearing a spacesuit, and listened, feeling tears forming in her eyes. Hundreds of traders – and even some Imperial Navy officers and crew – had joined them for the ceremony. It was strange, very different from anything she’d seen on Jannah ... and yet it was somehow fitting. They were sending a child of the universe back home.
“We live among the stars,” Brad’s father continued. “We are untouched by gravity or the oppression of planetary societies. We are born with a wanderlust that drives us onwards, beyond the furthest star. We move freely, making our living as we see fit, bowing to none. And when we die, we go back to the stars so that we may add all that we are to the light that pushes back the darkness. We are those who are truly free.
“My son was born heir to a civilisation that predates the Empire and will still be here when the Empire is gone. He grew up among the stars, moving from system to system and learning his trade. It was his dream to command his own ship, a dream he came to realise before his untimely death. In the end, we will remember him well.”
There was a tiny flare as Brad’s coffin began to drift towards the local star. It would be years, Sameena knew, before it was vaporised, returning Brad to the universe that had given him birth. The whole ceremony both puzzled and touched her. There was no mention of God or of an afterlife. But she found it hard to believe that God would think ill of the ceremony.
Her suit came to life, pushing her back towards Madagascar. The others joined her, swooping through the airlocks and into a place where they could remove the bulky suits and head into the meeting room. They wore
nothing, but demure black shipsuits. Even Jayne was wearing something modest for a change. But she’d taken her brother’s death hard.
There were a handful of tables inside, crammed with food and drink, and a band playing in the corner. Dancing in low gravity was an art form, Sameena had discovered; Brad had tried to teach her once, although she hadn't enjoyed it much. Now, she found herself wondering if she should dance in his name. He would probably have laughed at her if he’d still been alive.
She wanted to run as hundreds of people came up to her and offered their sympathies. Most of them assumed, she had discovered, that Brad and her had been lovers prior to his death, an assumption she had been unable to deny. They found his death and her struggle to have her marriage confirmed dreadfully romantic. She couldn't help feeling an urge to strangle them if they kept babbling at her. How could they treat it as a nice little story?
“Brad always hated these things,” Steve said. He caught her arm and pulled her into a corner, then brought out a privacy field generator. “He would have wanted to leave immediately.”
Sameena scowled. Space was an unforgiving environment; Brad had lost family to the cold darkness of space long before he’d met her. The spacers seemed to ... accept death; they might work hard to extract all of the possible lessons they could from the incident, but they didn't deny its existence. Jannah, on the other hand, had simply been fatalistic. If deaths happened, they were the will of God.
“I want to leave,” she admitted. A handful of people had even asked her if she meant to marry Steve, just to keep in the family. She'd had to hold herself back from slamming her fist into their noses. “But your parents wouldn't understand.”
Steve nodded. “I thought you would like to know that we sent the first shipment of equipment to Rosa yesterday,” he said. “Along with someone to draft out an ironclad contract, although it may be harder to enforce it. Give our factories the status of embassies, give them a share of the profits in exchange for complete freedom ... and rights to mine the gas giant.”
“Good,” Sameena said. It was a relief to concentrate on something else for a change. “And the first shipments of spare parts?”
“They're being sold now,” Steve said. “I think we might have started to uphold the economy ourselves, now.”
“I know,” Sameena said. Shipments of spare parts – and just about everything else – had been falling sharply over the last few months. The decline was becoming far too noticeable. “Can we meet demand?”
“Maybe,” Steve said. “The problem is establishing enough factories. Mobile ships are useful, but we really needed fixed bases and we might as well paint targets on their hulls.”
Sameena nodded. A factory on Rosa might be independent, technically speaking, but the Imperial Navy could still take it by force if they came knocking. Mobile factories didn't have that problem, but required very large hulls. Outside of colonist-carriers and military battleships, there weren't many ships large enough to carry an entire factory.
“We could set one up in interstellar space,” she said, thoughtfully. “They’d never be able to find it unless they got very lucky.”
“But they’d still have to bring in supplies and suchlike,” Steve said. “The more people involved, the greater the chance of a disastrous leak.”
“I think we’d better proceed anyway,” Sameena said, remembering the simulations she’d worked out. It wouldn't be long until the cloudscoops started to fail, along with the atmospheric domes on a dozen uninhabitable planets. How many worlds had been founded on the comforting assumption that there would always be a supply of spare parts? “Time isn't on our side.”
Steve nodded. “I’ve hired a number of additional freighters and their crews,” he said. “We can start hauling stuff into interstellar space. And we have people on the lookout for more useful technology.”
“And see what bargains we can make with other newly-independent worlds,” Sameena added. “They’ll all need a source of technology from off-world.”
“I’ll see to it,” Steve promised. He looked over her shoulder. “I think Jayne wants a word with you.”
Sameena turned to see Jayne standing there, with Paddy beside her. “Thanks,” she said. She honestly wasn't sure if she wanted to talk to Jayne or not. “Let me know how you get on.”
She stepped out of the privacy field and nodded to Jayne. “Thank you for your assistance,” she said, quietly.
Jayne scowled. “Brad would have been amused, I think,” she said. “You were too scared to go into his cabin.”
Paddy elbowed her. “The Reading of the Will is about to be carried out,” he said. “You’re on the list of people who are supposed to be there.”
Sameena winced, but followed them through the crowd and into a private room. Apart from the whole family, there were all four of the refugee women and a handful of people she didn't know. One of them introduced himself as the clan’s representative, the others chose to remain anonymous. Once the hatch was shut, the representative checked names against a datapad and then flicked a switch. A holographic image of Brad appeared in front of them.
“My name is Brad Hamilton, son of Thomas and Ethne Hamilton,” Brad’s voice said. “This is my seventh last will and testament, superseding all previous last wills and testaments. I have been poked, prodded and certified to be of sound body and mind. There might have been some doubt about the last one.”
Sameena felt a stab of guilt as she listened to the recording. “There are four separate tracks on this will,” Brad continued. “The right one, according to the lawyer, will activate upon certain conditions being met. I trust that whoever is in charge of the circus will be able to handle it?”
His image smirked. “Well? Get on with it!”
The representative snorted, pushing a button to pause the playback. “I have selected the correct track,” he said. “You will have a moment to register your objections once he has finished his introduction.”
“Blimey, that took forever,” Brad’s image said. “I thought people would be dying to see my will – oops, sorry, bad joke.”
Sameena fought down a giggle. Even in death, Brad was trying to cheer her up.
“More seriously,” Brad continued, “this track is to be activated if I have married Sameena and my immediate family are still largely alive, but I have no children of my body. Well, technically Sameena’s body ... anyway, you get the general idea.. If those conditions have not been met, sack the guy in charge and then get a new one to supervise the rest of the recording.”
There was a long pause. “Good,” Brad said, finally. “Now, I’m dead – I trust that you have at least dealt with the body before looking at the will. Let’s see now ... Sameena, I loved you and wanted to marry you. I even drew up a contract, which you must have seen if you’re looking at this recording. I hope we had a long time together before my death, but if not ... don’t go wasting your life after my death. Find someone reasonably decent and marry him.”
He leaned forward, as if he were whispering a secret. “I should warn you that Steve has a dreadful habit of eating beans late at night,” he added. “Don’t let him court you.”
“Hey,” Steve protested.
“In any case,” Brad’s image continued, “I'm leaving you all of my personal possessions, apart from anything specifically mentioned in this will, and my shares in the ship. And good luck with your other plans.
“To my mother and father, I leave my shares in Logan, to be split equally between them,” he said. “If they wish to pass them onwards, they may do so.
“To my brothers Steve and James, I leave my collection of books. If they can't come up with a fair division, Sameena can split them both into piles and Steve can pick one at random.
“To my sister Jayne, and her husband Paddy, I leave half of my bank account with instructions to start popping out kids. Jayne, Steve can't marry his engines and James isn't going to be producing kids, so it's up to you. And name one of them after me. Paddy, you�
��ve been a good friend and loyal shipmate ever since I met you; raise a glass in my honour, all right?”
There was a pause. Ethne and Jayne were both crying, their husbands doing their best to comfort them. Sameena felt cold ice wrapped round her heart, realising just how far Brad had dared to dream. And in the end, their marriage had been little more than a legal fiction to satisfy a court. Maybe she should just have given up the ship and purchased a new one herself.
“I got to like Lamina and her friends and the kids have been growing up well,” Brad said. “Accordingly, I leave them the remainder of my bank account, with orders that it be used to ensure that the kids have the best possible start in life. I hope they manage to find work well away from their godforsaken homeworld. With their training, they should never have to go back.”
Sameena heard the women crying behind her, but ignored them.
“Well, I can't say much else,” Brad concluded. “Just this ... I loved my life. I wouldn't change it for anything. Goodbye.”
His image vanished.
“That was the last will and testament of Brad Hamilton,” the representative said. “I am obliged to warn you that he added the standard clauses forbidding any challenge to the will by any of the named beneficiaries or anyone acting on their behalf. Brad’s estate ... was not large enough to render such challenges fruitful. Should you wish to decline your bequests, please inform me by the end of the week. I’ll distribute the bequests on Monday.”
“Stay here,” Paddy ordered, as everyone else started to file out of the room. “We need to talk to you.”
Jayne waited until the door was closed, then looked back at Sameena. “Have you hired a new crew?”
Sameena shook her head. She’d never had to interview prospective crewmembers before and she’d been planning to ask Captain Hamilton’s advice. Brad and her had been alone; as far as she knew, Brad had never even considered asking anyone else to join the crew. Between the court case and arranging Barbara’s education, there hadn't even been time to advertise for newcomers.
The Empire's Corps: Book 05 - The Outcast Page 24