The Chamber of Stars was a grand place, both in terms of scale and style. The ceiling was cavernous, and everything was coated in gold or silver. Representatives from each planet sat in separate gilded “boxes”, which moved around in a constant orbit around the room, ensuring that no ambassadors could get the impression that they were in a position of lesser or greater prestige in relation to the other members.
All around the chamber, the ambassadors took their places. The Emperor watched as the main representative of Alpha Centauri made her way into her seat. She was a beautiful mixed-race woman—half-human and half-Pixie. The event of a mixed-race person being elected to such a high office seemed to many to be an encouraging sign of improving relations with alien races. To others, it was a terrible crime to put such an abomination in a position of power. Within a few minutes, everyone was seated.
“Welcome,” the Emperor said.
He began to make the formal parliamentary introductions. It was a somewhat tedious process, but it was a necessary formality. Then he moved on to the list of issues brought forward by several planets. It seemed ridiculous to spend almost an hour discussing shipping disputes, galactic boundaries, the rudeness of Stolnites, and other minor issues, when there was the vital matter of defending the Imperium against its enemies to be discussed. But the Imperium was founded on centuries of unchanged ritual, and Emperor Ferdinand knew the importance of respecting tradition.
Finally, when all decisions regarding the trivial issues had either been resolved or postponed for further deliberation in another session, the Emperor began to tell the gathered ambassadors about the great danger posed by his brother, Ozytan. He held no detail back from the representatives; as members of the Imperium, they had a right to know everything. Of course, his words were not his own; the entire speech had been drawn up by the Senate. When he had finished the story—which had been interspersed with shocked exclamations—a terrible silence fell over the Chamber.
“And now, my friends, I must ask a great thing of you,” the Emperor concluded. “You must vote to donate to the Imperium a one-off payment of 5% A.P.G, to be paid in addition to your yearly tax amount. I understand that this is a lot to ask for, but I hope you will agree that my request matches the magnitude of the danger.”
The majority of the ambassadors did not need to think about the Emperor’s request. Many of them felt a great sense of pride at being part of the Imperium, which was founded on noble traditions. Even those who disliked the Imperium did not want to be conquered by a species as hellish as the Weerms. The members from the planet Nortan—a planet which was notorious as a seat of radical views—actually agreed with Ozytan’s motives. The idea of a democratic Imperium run entirely as a republic, without a single ruling figure, was very attractive to them. However, they could not support Ozytan’s actions. The idea of forcibly evolving a creature of pure evil was abhorrent to them, and they voted in support of Emperor Ferdinand, despite their liberal leanings.
The Emperor felt a wave of relief when there was overwhelming support for the Senate’s request.
“Thank you, my friends,” the Emperor said. “Thank you.”
Of course, the Emperor had no real power; he was simply a figurehead for the dictatorship of the Senate. He had brought the proposition before the Chamber of Stars because of the direct orders of the Senate; he could initiate no original motions of his own design. But Emperor Ferdinand had no wish to defy the Senate; he was happy to respect the historic precedent of rulership by the Grand Senate. His brother was the one who had always wished to rock the boat, to implement pointless changes, to spark senseless revolution. But now they would be able to raise an even mightier army to fight against Ozytan. Then his rebellious brother would see the true might of the Imperium.
***
The crew of the Wreck were heading towards the planet Necreon, a desert world in the Gold Sector. Tekka would depart at Necreon, leaving Glitz and Doland to travel back to the core worlds. Glitz didn’t know why Tekka wanted to go to Necreon—the planet was little more than a giant shoreless beach, with extreme temperatures and hardly any water. The planet was mostly inhabited by Stolnites, another reason why Glitz wouldn’t go there personally. But Tekka, when questioned, refused to explain why he wanted to be dropped off there.
“I have my reasons,” he had replied simply.
They reached Necreon in a matter of days. The ship felt somewhat empty without the presence of Alyce, and Glitz found the journey tiresome. They tried to pass the time by playing cards, drinking whisky, and watching old vidfilms, but it was hard to be cooped up in such a small ship. Glitz felt very relieved when they finally reached the planet.
“Excellent,” Tekka said, as the planet came into view out of the window.
It was a sand world, with a single small ocean on the northern hemisphere. It was a dry, barren planet, but after experiencing Chaos, it seemed positively hospitable. Tekka carefully landed the ship, and climbed out onto the desert. The sun was hot and bright; behind heat haze, he could see a group of cloaked Stolnites, sweeping the desert with metal detection sensors.
Glitz and Doland followed Tekka out of the ship, and stared out at the sandy planet. If there had been a nearby ocean, it might have seemed quite pleasant. But there was no refreshing blue sea to provide contrast and relief—the landscape was identical for miles around. Glitz was still wearing his leather ensemble from the Proteist shop, and he felt himself beginning to sweat under the heat of the sun.
“Well,” Tekka said. “Now I leave you.”
He shook hands unemotionally with Glitz and Doland. Glitz was surprised that he actually felt a little regretful about leaving him. They had all been through a lot together, and despite Tekka’s cold personality, he had found himself warming to him.
“See you,” Glitz said. “If you ever need anything, get in touch. Here’s my contact chip.”
Tekka nodded. “Thank you. Goodbye.”
Without saying another word, Tekka turned and began to stroll north across the desert, which was the opposite direction to where the Stolnites were headed. Glitz took one last look at the unfruitful planet, then climbed back into the Wreck.
***
“Hydra is now back in business,” Glitz said, grinning.
Using the ship’s computer, he had accessed the Net and reactivated his callsign. The Net was an anonymous data exchange which was loosely based around the ancient network architecture known in some legends as the Internet. But the Net had the advantage—or disadvantage, depending on your viewpoint—of being largely unrestricted and untraceable. It enabled totally anonymous transfer of data, at least in theory. In practice, there were still ways to track Net usage—if you were clever enough. The Office for Public Morality, a prominent arm of the Imperium, had several tricks up its sleeve when it came to monitoring Net use. However, monitoring was expensive, and even the great Imperium did not have sufficient resources to police all areas of the Net. Thus, before Glitz was arrested, he had been active on the Net for years, arranging to pick up illegal goods in addition to his official cargo.
“You’re online again?” Doland said.
“Online and ready to go.” A message popped up on the screen; someone was making an incoming call—Glitz instantly recognised the callsign.
“Spaceman!”
“Hydra!” The man that had appeared on the screen was balding and corpulent, but he had an apparently cheery disposition. “I thought you were locked up for years!”
“I escaped.”
“Escaped? From Malus?”
“I met a guy—a computer expert. Then after that…” Glitz stopped himself. He had been about to tell Spaceman, which was the man’s net callsign, about his mission for the Imperium. But he quickly remembered that the Emperor had made them agree to keep the whole thing a secret. If people learned about the Weerms, they might panic. “…so now I’m heading to Edo, to collect a few things.”
“Congratulations, then! Want to make a little detour? I might
have a job for you, if you’re interested.”
“What kind of job? Nothing illegal. I don’t want to get sent back to Malus.”
“No, no, it’s nothing illegal, I promise you! Perhaps it involves… bending a few laws.”
Glitz frowned. He had known Spaceman for many years, although they had never actually met in person. The man had contacts all over the galaxy, and always seemed to find out if there was a money-making opportunity somewhere. However, he never liked to get his own hands dirty. If there was a possible job, he would tell someone else about it, taking a small commission for his troubles.
“What job?” Glitz sighed.
“Just a little one, just a little one! Word has it that a shipment of medical lasers was sent to Hansea last week. Just a routine delivery, you know. The equipment was sent to the Abigail Smythe Hospital on the planet, in fulfilment of an order. But, for some reason, the lasers were recalled by the delivery company. I expect there was some kind of mechanical fault with the equipment—something trivial, you know.” Spaceman smiled, revealing a gold tooth among his white teeth. “Of course, when the lasers are returned, they will probably be stripped of their components, so no one is to profit from them as matters stand.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Well, if the lasers were to go… missing, would it be such a big deal? They’re only faulty equipment after all. And no one would lose out—the insurance company would cover the losses of the manufacturer.”
“I’m not sure about this. How many lasers?”
“I don’t know… maybe around a hundred? The thing is, these medical lasers contain Zirgotic crystals, which I’m sure you know fetch up to ten thousand credits a piece. So you stand to make a profit of—well, let me see now—around one million.”
Glitz whistled through his teeth. It was certainly a lot of money. And the plan was undeniably attractive. If everything went well, all he would need to do was walk into the hospital, pick up the crate of medical lasers, and walk out again. But a part of him was worried. He was very lucky to have not only escaped from Malus, but also to have obtained a full pardon. If he was sentenced again, there would be no Tekka to help him get free.
“I can’t,” he said finally. “It’s a tempting offer, but I promised myself I’d stick to legitimate cargoes from now on. I can’t risk going back to prison.”
“Wait a minute,” Doland said, turning to Glitz. “I mean… one million credits? One million credits for picking up some medical equipment?”
“For stealing some medical equipment,” Glitz replied.
Doland shrugged. “We could do with the money.”
Glitz frowned. He had to admit that the promise of such a great deal of money was exciting. The First Naval Lord’s gift of fifty thousand credits had been generous, but it would hardly last for long. And it was unlikely that he would find a job again—at least not as a cargo trader. Criminal records could be accessed by any potential employer.
“No one will find out,” Spaceman said, wiping his sweaty brow with a handkerchief. “The East Galaxy Company fulfils millions of orders every single day—they will hardly pay much attention to a single missing shipment.”
Glitz stroked his chin. “The East Galaxy Company, you say?” So the shipment of medical lasers had been delivered by his old company, the one owned by Ozytan. And Ozytan had told them that his profits from the company helped to fund his military movements, so in a way they would be doing the Imperium a favour by stealing the equipment…
“What cut would you be looking for?” Glitz said.
“Standard rate. 10%.”
Glitz nodded at Doland, sighing slowly. “We’ll do it.”
Spaceman grinned. “Fantastic. I assume you know the location of Hansea? It’s in the Silver Sector—the planet’s part of the Helliam System. The hospital itself is located almost in the centre of the Health Zone. You’ll be likely to find the equipment in the main surgery equipment store. Failing that, you can use one of the computer terminals to check the purchase log. I’ll send you the laser serial number.”
“Fine.”
“I’d better leave you now. I’ve heard rumours of a collapsed gold mine on Sygmus. There might be a job in it for my old friend Jocka the Digger. Good luck! You can wire me the 10% after the mission—if you’re successful, of course. Have fun! Spaceman out.”
“Hydra out.”
It didn’t take long to travel to the Silver Sector, and Glitz spent the entire journey wondering if he had made a mistake in accepting the job. But there was no turning back now. Spaceman was in charge of nearly all illicit trade across the galaxy, taking 10% of every job. If you let him down one too many times, he would simply stop giving you work. But maybe that’s not a problem, Glitz thought. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe if I stopped getting work from Spaceman I’d be forced into doing something honest.
But he decided that he would carry out the job on Hansea. With half a million credits, he wouldn’t have to worry about getting work for a long time…
They reached the vicinity of the planet. It was a strange looking world. There was a divide almost exactly down the centre, splitting the eastern and western hemispheres. Half of the planet was covered in snow and ice, and the other half was hot and barren. The two halves were demarcated by a strip of verdant country.
“The planet of extremes,” Doland said, quoting from an article he was reading on the Net. “Half of the planet is inhospitably hot, and the other half is unacceptably cold. The strip of land in the centre is called the Health Zone; it is a habitable area filled with thousands of private hospitals. Patients from all over the Imperium visit the planet; it is famous for medical excellence.”
“Any Imperial hospitals?”
He scanned the text. “A few. Luckily, the Abigail Smythe Hospital is private.”
“Thank space for that.” Glitz paused, staring at the bizarre planet. “How could a world like this ever come about?”
“A terraforming experiment that went wrong. According to the Encyclopaedia Imperia, the world was originally supposed to become a paradise planet.” He scrolled down through the article, quoting loosely again: “The original settlers around two hundred years ago used the now-defunct technique of particle excitement… blah, blah, blah… alter the weather conditions without the necessity to move the planet closer to the sun. But the technique was only partially successful, leaving the small belt of green land, etc…etc… Of course, the developers had spent vast amounts of money on the terraforming process, and they did not want the planet to go to waste. It was clearly unusable as a paradise world, so it became a centre of medicine.”
“So where’s the hospital?”
“Right in the middle of the Health Zone.” Doland pressed a button, and a flashing light appeared on the scanner. “That red light is the location. That’s where we need to go.”
“Fine. You ready? Let’s go.”
Glitz contacted the OTC, and requested permission to enter orbit around the planet, so they could land. He explained that one of his crew was seriously ill, and he needed urgent treatment. The man in charge of landing permits pointed out with an air of snobbishness that medical treatment on Hansea was invariably expensive.
“Are you saying that I’m poor?” Glitz said.
“No, sir. I am simply suggesting that perhaps a man who is driving a rundown Box 2000 ship might not have the funds required for treatment in the Health Zone.”
“If you must know, I have a credit bar here worth fifty thousand credits.” Glitz flashed the silver bar in front of the camera. “That’s enough to be get things started, right?”
The man’s demeanour changed. “Of course, sir. My apologies. Permission granted to enter planetary orbit and to land if you so wish.”
“Well, thank you!”
Glitz deactivated the communications line and grinned at Doland. They had permission to enter orbit around the planet, and the man hadn’t even taken their names or credentials. Every planet had a
different space traffic policy, and Glitz had been worried about giving out his name. But now it would be easy for them to land near the hospital, steal the medical lasers, and fly away again. Then they could dump the Wreck in a scrapyard somewhere—maybe even back on Cronor—and enjoy the one million credit profit. No one would ever find out.
“Did you find out anything about the lasers?” Doland said.
Glitz accessed the file that had been sent by Spaceman, and summarised the information for Doland. It was the supporting documentation for the delivery of the equipment, evidently stolen from the servers of the East Galaxy Company. The lasers had been delivered two days ago. They were called Cellzers, which Glitz thought was a silly name. The item specification revealed the nature of the equipment; Cellzers were cutting tools used in surgical procedures. Instead of actually slicing into the skin of a patient, Cellzers would create an artificial opening by shifting around the skin cells, allowing the surgeon entry into the body. After the operation was complete, the Cellzer would seal up the wound without leaving any scarring. There had been similar devices around for decades, but the Cellzer was the first not to leave even a superficial scar.
“Sounds high-tech,” Doland said. “And profitable…”
“Right. I’m taking us into orbit now.”
Glitz had become fully accustomed to the idiosyncrasies present in the ship’s design, and he could operate it easily, compensating for any hardware faults. He brought the ship into a perfect orbit with ease.
Death to the Imperium (Imperium Cicernus) Page 12