A Necessary Measure He was also one of the very few who didn't really want one. There was nothing he could do about it; he merely had to attend the tests and he would get the best grade on the scale. It was all for show. He made a slight faux pas when he almost missed the theoretical exam of Advanced Astroengineering, because he had partied all night and had a hard time getting up that morning. His mother's slave, the limo-driver, had been forced to physically shake him awake and help him dress. His own slaves didn't dare touch him. Had anyone else been one and a half minutes late for an exam, as he was, they would have been sent off to a remote labour camp immediately. In his case, all they did was give him a smiling and enthusiastic welcome, note him as "Attended" and let his mother's limo take him back to the penthouse to catch up on his sleeping. In fact, had he not showed up at all, they would probably have given him "Attended" status anyway. It would have been arranged. It was just that the Academy Commissioner, the grey old Viscount, was concerned about not making the arrangement too obvious, although why that should be a problem was beyond Niloc. Everybody knew it anyway. It had always been like that. All his life. And a good life it was. Niloc sometimes wondered if his father, the Duke and Imperial Viceroy of Facece, knew the full extent of his son's privileges. Probably not. His type rarely condoned such matters, for some bizarre reason preferring their children to go out into space, risk their lives for the Emperor and earn rank, positions and privileges, as they themselves had done in the past. The Duke himself was self-made aristocracy on account of his extraordinary efforts in some war or other. Or was it an uprising? Or both? Well, it didn't matter. Niloc's mother just had to whisper her husbands name and everyone, from the Academy Commissioner to the Police to the Imperial High Justice in Facece knew what was expected of them. But because of his father, he could not get out of at least appearing to attend the Academy and appearing to make a career. That was also mainly for show. He would have to go on a few military missions, nothing too dangerous, and then settle down in a cushy administrative position on Topaz and wait for his inheritance to kick in. Hopefully, the old Duke wouldn't take too long to kick the bucket, and then his title and assets would be transferred to Niloc. Not his position, though; all Viceroys were appointed by the Emperor based on merit. And Niloc had no intention on aggregating merits of any kind whatsoever. He also very nearly missed the graduation ceremony. But the driver-slave was with him earlier this time, shaking him awake with a good hour to spare. And so he was there, in his dull black cadet's uniform, knee-high boots shining. Not polished by him, of course. His mother was there, but not his father, who was rarely to be seen anyway. He was called first, the privilege of the best of the class. Or the one with the most powerful parents. "Cadet Niloculiur Ranamin Ger Gulbuddin," the Viscount called. "His Imperial Majesty, the Dove of War and Hawk of Peace, our luminous protector Hengist Duval, calls you to his service. Congratulations on behalf of the Academy, Sir Gulbuddin." Then Niloc was handed his Sir's insignia and the pad on which was enscribed the nature of his first commission. He read it lazily as he pushed and shoved his way through the meticulously lined up class of expectant cadets toward the limo. He could always have it changed if it didn't suit him. Sir Gulbuddin: Payload Specialist and Third Crewmember on His Imperial Majesty's Patrolship GH 141. Commander: Lord Krenk. Mission: System resource mapping and equipment testing. That didn't look to bad. Not a fighting mission, anyway. And not exploration. Shouldn't prove too dangerous. As he sat in the limo on the way home, he managed, after some initial trouble, to put the insignia on his uniform. The driver didn't bother to tell him that he had put them on upside down. - - - It was an Imperial Courier and his living quarters were far too small and cramped. He had half a mind to have his mother protest to the Viscount, but decided against it. This mission was probably hand picked by her anyway and the one best suited to him. He just had to make the best of a difficult situation. He was glad the Count who was Head of Naval Operations on Peters Base, and had come to see him safely off, had also discreetly made him aware of the little mistake with the insignia. It would not have made a good first impression on the Commander of the ship to report for duty with a less than perfect uniform. Ah yes, the Commander. This was the man who would respectfully guide Niloc through his first mission. He seemed friendly enough, although without that grovelling smile most officers used to wear when Niloc was around. He looked a bit old for his rank, Niloc thought. Might have been passed over for promotion. Or demoted. Either way, it meant that he probably didn't have the right connections at Imperial Court. That could prove useful. The co-pilot, Squire Hagog, was about Niloc's age and very tall, which was not necessarily an advantage in such a relatively small vessel. He also didn't grovel. Curious. Didn't they realize who he was? He would have to tell them at some appropriate time. Now, as they were preparing to leave berth, they both seemed busy, so Niloc wandered to the cockpit and sat down. All the controls in there were unknown to him, but he didn't worry. They would show him what he needed to know. He sat back in the comfortable chair, stretched, then relaxed. The chair really was quite comfortable. - - - "What do you think you are doing, Sir Gulbuddin?" Niloc awoke abruptly and remembered where he was. Lord Krenk was standing in front of him, his face angry. "Hmmm?" Niloc yawned. "That is the Commander's chair. Get out of the cockpit and find your seat in the cargo hold." Niloc stretched. "No, that's all right. I'm comfortable here." To his utter astonishment, the Lord grabbed him by the lapels of his uniform, forcibly lifted him out of the seat and threw him to the deck. "Get up and go to your seat right now." Niloc was speechless. What had just happened? Was the Lord a madman? "Whatever are you doing? Don't you know who I am?" "You are Sir Gulbuddin, Third Crewmember, and if you don't get back to the cargo hold right now you'll be Serf Gulbuddin the rest of your life." Niloc smiled with relief. They didn't know who he was! He got to his feet and fixed his most aristocratic stare on Lord Krenk. "Oh no, you're mistaken. I am Niloc Gulbuddin, the son of Duke Gulbuddin, Viceroy of Facece." "I don't care if you're the son of Duval. Cargo hold. Now." What was this insolence? Niloc raised his cheek and his voice a bit more. "Now look here, Krenk..." There were stars in his head as Krenk struck him sharply across the face, twice. His jaw hinged open in surprise and alarm and his cheeks were burning as he involuntarily took a step back. Krenk's eyes were black and insane. "As long as you're aboard, you are nobody's son. I am your Commander and you will adress me as such. You will not discuss orders. You will follow them. Immediately. Squire, take him to his seat." Niloc felt strong hands grab him by the shoulders and turn him around, then march him quickly back toward the cargo hold. Slowly, he recovered from the shock and began to yell. "My father will hear of this this very minute! He's the Viceroy! You are a dead man, Krenk!" There was a soft, hissing voice in his ear. "Be quiet. Nobody can hear you. Your father is far away. There's only the Commander and me. Only us. And we don't care. There's only us." They had reached the acceleration seat in the cargo hold. "Take your hands off me this instant! In the name of the Emperor!" Without any great difficulty, Hagog pushed him down in the chair and secured the combat harness around him. Tightly. "Release me right now! I'm leaving the ship! You'll hang for this!" The ship shuddered slightly. Again Hagog's soft voice. "You can't leave now. We've undocked. We're about to enter hyperspace, and when we do, you'll want to be in this chair, believe me." "Dock on the base again! I want to get off! You can't force me, my father is the Viceroy!" Not bothering to answer, the Squire turned his back and went back to the cockpit. "Turn back! I can't go! I don't want to! Don't you dare leave me here! Stop right there, scoundrel! Heyyy!" He panicked and tried to get free but couldn't. The hatch to the cockpit closed with a loud clank and he was alone. As he felt the ship accelerate away from Peters Base he started sobbing uncontrollably, tears running down cheeks that were still red from being slapped. "Mother, help me," he whispered through a sore throat. - - - They didn't release him until they had reached Tiafa. Although they had travelled many lightyears, and days of objective time had flown past, on board the Courier mere hours had gone by. It was one of the artefacts of space travel Niloc would have known about had he ever attended any classes at the Academy. He had cried himself to sleep in the acceleration chair, alone in the cargo hold. When he woke up again he wept a bit more as he remembered where he was, but he was able to calm down after visualizing what would happen to Krenk and Hagog when the ship returned to Facece. Oh, but they were practically dead already. The cockpit hatch opened and Hagog came out. "Feeling better? You can take off the harness, we've finished jumping for now. Going to refuel at Lyonstown before we start taking real jumps." Hagog watched as Niloc clumsily fumbled with the harness lock without success. "Can't open it?" He reached down with two fingers and unsnapped the lock. "Yeah, that's a real bitch. Think you can handle it yourself next time?" Again Niloc's face was burning, but this time it was equal amounts of humiliation and anger. He searched for a quick comeback but came up empty. He was too stunned by their disrespect and outrageous behaviour. "All right, get up and start taking inventory. You're supposed to be the payload specialist and you should have done it before we undocked. Too busy sleeping in the Commander's seat, I guess." Hagog thrust a calcupad at his chest. "Get going." Niloc rose with what he judged to be quiet dignity, then fixed his sternest, most piercing gaze on the Squire. "Turn this ship around and go back to Facece. I'm the Viceroy's son. You are not allowed to treat me like this." The insolent villain smiled back at him; a vicious, evil grin. "Kid, on this ship, your father might as well be a cheap Sohoan mine-slave." "Swine! How dare y..." Hagog took a step closer. He was a big man, and his face was mere centimeters away and above and suddenly very, very threatening. And his voice was very, very soft. "Word of advice: the Commander's not impressed with you. In fact, he's downright angry, and that is not something you want to hear in the situation you're in. When we left Facece, Lord Krenk became your Emperor. He has every right to stick you in the airlock and flush your fat, soft behind out into space. I'm surprised he hasn't done so already. Wouldn't be the first time. You'd better watch it." The fierceness in Hagog's eyes and the soft menace in his voice made Niloc go from angry red to a most frightened pale. Hagog held his gaze for a few seconds more, then abruptly turned on his heel and started for the cockpit again, shouting as he walked. "Just do what you're told and don't go in the way. And don't ever mention your friends at Court, however tempting it is. You're not the first spoilt, stuck up little piece of crap we've dealt with, believe you me." He stopped and turned, his face now almost friendly. "Something for you to think about: Does your father have enemies in the Navy? Someone high up who would like to give the son of Gulbuddin a really rough ride? Hmmm? 'Cause we've had a real quick change of plans. Didn't know about you until today. Puzzling, huh?" The cockpit hatch slammed shut with a jarring clang and Niloc was alone again. He was trembling. Until this day, nobody had talked to him like that, practically threatening his life. And those last things Hagog had said... Of course, everyone at Court had enemies, but when one had risen to become Duke and Viceroy, very few of those enemies were still alive. After all, part of the reason for having rank was so that one could summarily execute those who had stood in one's way through the years. Still, it only took one surviving enemy... Horrible scenes flashed before his inner eye. He started sobbing again as, with hands shaking badly, he tried to make sense of the numbers and markings on the calcupad. For the first time ever, he vaguely wished he had attended classes at the Academy. - - - A couple of hours later, he had made little progress. The calcupad was not a device he was used to operating; back home, his slaves took care of all instruments and equipment, leaving him free to make the decisions. After all, he was an aristocrat, high above and far removed from any menial tasks. The cockpit hatch opened and closed as Lord Krenk entered. "How's it coming, Gulbuddin?" Niloc didn't know what to say. To report anything other than complete and utter success would be incredibly humiliating. He said nothing, not even looking at the Commander. "A bit harder than you thought?" Niloc's face blushed again. The Commander was right beside him now, but he didn't turn to meet his gaze. "Let's have a look." The Commander took the pad out of his hands and looked at it. He sighed heavily. "I see. You've never seen a calcupad before, have you?" The Commander's demeaning tone made Niloc turn around and face him, angrily. "Of course I have seen one. But in the higher circles to which I belong, we have slaves to perform such pedestrian tasks." "Do you really. Not many slaves around here, though. The closest thing we have is you." In spite of his continued insolence, the Commander seemed much more calm and reasonable now than last time, and Niloc decided to try talking sense to him again. Perhaps Krenk would listen more respectfully if he acted even more dignified and aristocratic. He straightened his back and raised his voice. "In the name of the Emperor, I strongly protest against the way I am treated. I have no desire to remain aboard this ship. I have decided to disembark when we refuel. Then I will find transport to Facece, and you can be sure that all at Court will know about this. Consequently, you will be executed upon your return to Imperial space." Lord Krenk was still working with the calcupad. "I thought Squire Hagog told you never to mention your friends at Court?" "Squire Hagog threatened me in the most horrendous manner. He is evidently quite mad. You will both have to face the consequences of your deplorable acts." "I see." Krenk absentmindedly made an operation on the pad but did not look up. "Squire, would you join us in the cargo hold, please?" he said into his wrist computer. "Yes, Mylord," came the reply from the cockpit. The Commander calmly put the calcupad down on a nearby shelf as Hagog entered through the hatch and came over to them. "Squire Hagog, did you threaten Sir Gulbuddin? Did you indicate to him that if he did not improve his manner, he would be put in an airlock and sucked into space without adequate safety equipment? Or indeed without a spacesuit?" "I did, Mylord." "Very well. Squire, put Sir Gulbuddin in the main entry airlock." "Yes, Mylord." Before Niloc could react, the big, strong Squire was on him, twisting both his arms behind his back and starting to march him towards the main entry hatch. "What are you doing?" Niloc squealed. "Release me this instant! I'll have you executed! You'll hang for this traitorous act! Let me go! Krenk! I command you to stop this madness!" Squirming, kicking and screaming, he desperately tried to get free from Hagog's iron grip, but he hadn't followed Physiological Maintaining and Improvement classes and was no match for the large framed Squire. As the Commander opened the inner hatch into the polished steel cylinder that was the airlock, Niloc suddenly, for the first time ever, genuinely feared for his life and panicked. He redoubled his efforts to get free, but to no avail. "No! No! I don't want to! I'll be good! I won't have you executed! Just let me go! I won't tell anyone! Krenk! Kreeeeenk!" The Squire brutally threw him into the wide cylinder and slammed the hatch before Niloc could get on his feet. Through the round viewport into the ship he saw Hagog looking at him coldly and contemptuously. He scrambled to the hatch and banged on it, tears of terror dripping to the perfectly rounded deck of the airlock. "No! Don't! Don't kill me!" No reaction. What was that word the slaves used to scream when he had them put to death? "Please! I'll improve! I don't want to die! Please! Pleeease!" His screams became unintelligible and unarticulated as Hagog's face disappeared from the viewport. - - - They didn't flush him into space, but they made sure he spent the following hours in considerable fear, with Hagog deliberately showing his face in the viewport with uneven intervals, so Niloc would know he had his finger on the button. When they let him out six hours later, he was not much more than a whimpering wreck, lying prone and shivering on the deck. Hagog helped him get up, then escorted him to his sleeping-quarters. None too gently he put Niloc down on the bunk and stood towering over the pathetic shape. "The Commander has said that he is willing to forget your insubordination and your behaviour if he sees a substantial improvement. I hope you recognize the generosity and good faith he is thereby showing you. If you disappoint again, you'll get airlocked for real. Report for duty in two hours. Is that understood?" "Yes, Squire." Even Hagog was surprised, just a little, at the pathetic and resigned tone in Niloc's voice. The treatment must have worked better than expected. He went back to work. - - - Two weeks later, Krenk was also pleased at the change that had taken place in Niloc's attitude, but surprised he was not; he had seen it before. A few hours of deadly terror in the airlock was just the ticket for burning out any and all traces of insubordination in the spoiled brats who called themselves cadets. The best part was that when it worked, it was forever, or at least for as long as the crewmember in question was under Krenk's command. Some of them actually made decent officers with time. Of course it was a harsh method, he knew that. But it was a necessary measure. The Emperor trusted him with ship and crew and he had to get everything in shape and running smoothly as soon as possible after undocking. As a Commander, that was one of his most important tasks. Sir Gulbuddin was not yet even remotely a worthy crewmember, but at least his attitude was now such that the proper training could begin. Already, Krenk had occasionally let the boy sit in Hagog's seat and watch astrogational procedures. Unfortunately, as the young Sir had evidently not followed a single class at the Academy, they were still just in the process of showing him the most elementary functions. They had finished with the emergency procedures and had started on basic hyperspace astrogation, to an outsider the simplest part of space travel. Underneath the surface, it was fiendishly complex, but it was not necessary to know what was actually going on during a hyperjump. You just pointed the computer to the target system and pushed the button, and even Gulbuddin could do that. Krenk was in the best mood he had felt since leaving Facece. The mapping part of the mission could now begin. It was a most interesting assignment they had. The Courier had been fitted with a new hyperspace drive which, although it ran on ordinary hydrogen fuel, was over a hundred percent more efficient than an ordinary drive. So although each individual jump was of normal distance, they only required about half the normal amount of fuel, in effect doubling the ship's range. It was perfect for far systems mapping, allowing the small Couriers and Traders to explore the regions far to the galactic north. Thus, the mighty Imperial Explorers were freed up to do the really long range mapping. The northern systems were especially tricky to reach because Imperial ships had to make a long trip around Federal space, but this disadvantage was now largely neutralized. Krenk had made a bet with an officer back at Facece that his Courier could traverse at least 25 points of galactic coordinates before turning back, even when dropping by Tiafa, where the fuel was cheaper than in the Empire. It was a bet he was sure to win; they had just jumped to coordinate [-2,19], the furthest distance any Courier had travelled without refuelling. For the first time since Facece, Krenk allowed himself the thinnest, most restrained of smiles. Yes indeed, this mission was shaping up just fine. "All right, Gulbuddin, we've got work to do." Hagog walked up to the young Sir who was fumbling with a crate, apparently trying to open it. Probably just pretending to be doing something useful. "Commander says we're gonna do some short-range exploring here in this system, and we'll be at the nearest planet in a couple of hours. There'll be work to do, and I'm not gonna do it by myself. So I'll show you something." He opened a compartment and took out a largish box. "Sometimes, if a planet looks promising, we'll land on it and do a manual sampling. Basically, we'll just cut some pieces of rock and take some soil samples. Just takes a few minutes, but the science guys really like it when we bring back that stuff. Never understood why, to be honest, but that's what they tell me." He opened the box and took out a small device. "This is what we use for that. Just find a suitable rock nearby the ship, ignite this laser and snip off a chunk." He handed the device to Niloc. "There's the switch. Be careful with this, 'cause it'll cut your arm right off. Get it?" "Yes, Squire." "Now, this is what we use to take soil sam- " Niloc put the laser to the back of Hagog's head and switched it on. The narrow red beam went through the Squire's head, out through the bridge of his nose and hit the bulkhead, burning a sizzling black spot on the metal but not through it. The laser burned Hagog's head open as the large man fell to the deck with a sickening thud, and it took Niloc a second to switch it off again, stunned by what he had so impulsively done. The Squire was obviously quite dead. Niloc stood silently for a minute, looking at the lifeless shape on the deck and trying to comprehend what had just happened. Ever since the airlock incident, he had been desperate to escape from the ship, the mission and the two other crewmembers. It had soon become apparent to him that they had to be dead if he was to succeed. But until now, no window of opportunity had opened; he hadn't even known how to kill them. By pure chance, he had found a solution to his problem, and he had acted on it with such immediacy that it could well be considered an act of instinct. It was very clear to him what he had to do next; there was no way back. He turned on his heel and calmly made his way to the cockpit. - - - It took him some time to drag the two bodies into the airlock, and at the end he was soaked with sweat. He put them side by side inside the big, polished steel cylinder and pressed the button to eject them into space. "Attention. Outer hatch cannot be opened if inner lock not closed," the ship computer reminded him seriously. Of course. He should have thought about that. He closed the inner hatch and pressed the button again. There was a roar as powerful pumps sucked the air out of the airlock. "Warning. Outer hatch will open to space in ten seconds. Airlock artificial gravity suspended." Niloc pressed his face right up to the round viewport. He wanted to witness the final demise of Krenk and Hagog. The thick and solid outer hatch opened gracefully, and the inner hatch was all that was between Niloc and the blackness of space. There must have been at least some air left in the airlock, because the now weightless bodies drifted gracefully and slowly out into the blackness. Far too gracefully for Niloc's taste. He had wanted the villains to be simply and brutally sucked out without any sort of dignity. It was the only blemish in the feeling of vindication and success that now flowed through him. He felt an urge to give them a fitting goodbye. "Good riddance, dirty swines! That is what happens to traitors!" It didn't sound quite vicious enough to his ears, but it was all he could think of. "Swines!" Oh, if only his mother was there to admire and praise him! "Traitors!" He stood and peered into the airlock for another minute until the two dead officers had floated all the way out, then turned and marched with quick and very determined steps toward the cockpit. Finally, he could go home. As he sat in the Commander's chair ("Try to strike me now, Krenk!"), he took a minute to relish in his admirable success and plan how he would let all at Facece know about what had happened to him. He would invite everyone of any importance to his mother's palace, not letting them know beforehand what was going to happen. He would have them all assembled in the ballroom, and then the lights would dim, the chatter would die down and he would step out on the balcony, brightly illuminated with a spotlaser. They would all cheer and welcome him back, and then he would tell them his extraordinary tale, in every detail! Well, he would of course have to leave some aspects out of it, like the crying, but the story would be all the better for it. Oh, how relieved everyone would be to see him safely back! How the Naval officers would apologize to him for sending him out with such madmen! How they would shower him with recognition and titles and medals! Oh, how proud his mother would be! His chest swelled with pleasure as he lay in the Commander's chair. Ah yes, that was how he would do it. And also later at the Imperial Court in Achenar. Perhaps even the Emperor would apologize. But first, he had to get the Courier in motion and jump homeward. Very little astrogation was required; he would find the closest friendly system and jump there. Then he would just radio for help. Nothing to it. He looked around. Many of the controls were still foreign to him, but he knew which to operate to get the vessel moving. He was able to get the galaxy map up on the main holomonitor, and after some fiddling he had set a system to jump to. Everything was ready. He fastened the harness and pushed the "jump" button. To his surprise, no jump was performed. Instead, the computer spoke to him. "Attention. Ship drive cannot be engaged with outer hatches open." Ah. That seemed logical. Niloc rose and went back to the main entry hatch and peered out. Yep, the dead swines were slowly drifting away in space. He pressed the button that closed the outer hatch, then went quickly back to the cockpit. He put the harness on again and prepared to jump. He pressed the button. "Attention. Ship drive cannot be engaged if Commander not aboard." Oh, for the Emperors sake! Those ship designers had really set out to make his life difficult, hadn't they? He was the Commander now! There was nobody else here! He cleared his voice. "Computer: There has been a change. I am the Commander now." Silence. He pressed the button again. "Attention. Ship drive cannot be engaged if Commander not aboard." He slumped. This was not good. Somehow the ship knew that Krenk was not aboard. He probably had some device on him, a holocube or something that could be sensed by the ship. There was only one solution to this problem. He would have to get the body of Lord Krenk back into the ship. And by the Oceans of Topaz, he had to do it now, before the body drifted too far away! He got to his feet and ran aft through the empty ship, into the cargo hold, where he knew the in-flight cargo loading system was located. He couldn't find it. On second thought, if it was indeed there, it would be controlled from the cockpit, not from the cargo hold. Again he ran, much faster this time. He didn't sit down as he scoured the instrument panels for something that resembled cargo loading controls. Nothing jumped out at him. It took him the better part of ten minutes' frenetic trying, poking, probing and swearing to realize that he was not going to find them. For what felt like the hundredth time on this flight he felt panic rising. He tried to think rationally about it. He had to get Krenk back in, but the cargo loading system was, for all intents and purposes, completely unusable to him. Were there other ways of doing it? Yes. There were. Obviously, the airlock was there for a reason. And it seemed logical that it was there to make it possible for a crewmember to exit the ship while in flight. Of course! The emergency escape suits! Hagog had showed them to him when he reviewed the emergency procedures. If he put one on, secured himself firmly to the ship and then exited the outer hatch, it should not be too difficult to retrieve Krenk, drag him into the airlock, close both hatches and leave him there. It probably didn't matter to the ship's computer where exactly in the ship the Commander was, just as long as he was aboard. Right. Now he had a plan. Relieved, Niloc headed for the escape compartment, conveniently placed only a couple of meters across from the main entry hatch. He opened the compartment and stepped into one of the three man-sized alcoves, read the instructions carefully and pressed the clearly marked button. He stood stiffly with his arms slightly out to the sides. Three seconds later there was a violent whoosh, a blur and a flurry of mechanical noises as the escape suit was automatically put on him. He stepped out of the alcove. The sound of his own rapid, agitated breathing was amplified in the closed system of the suit. Even though it was of the latest model, it still felt heavy and cumbersome. After all, it was designed to keep a crewmember alive in space for up to two weeks. He examined the suit. It was, as Hagog had told him, rather well equipped, with numerous pockets both on the outside and the inside. On the outer waistband was located the electronic equipment; the emergency homing beacon, the tiny astrogation computer and the life-support controls. There was also, as Niloc remembered from Hagog's lecture, an embedded reel of synthline, a thin and immensely strong wire. The reel itself was securely fastened to the suit, and at the end of the line was a solid hook, perfect for securing the suit to the ship. He opened the inner hatch and entered the airlock, its polished interior all too familiar to him. Just as he recalled, there were several solid handgrips. He clipped the hook onto the one nearest to the outer hatch, making sure it got a tight grip. As opposed to the last time he had been in there, the control panel was now operational. He pressed the button to close the inner hatch, shivering as it clanged shut and he recalled the last time he had been isolated in there. The pumps sucked the air out again. Ha opened the outer hatch and looked out into the black infinity. There was no problem in locating the bodies of his former shipmates, as they were drifting very slowly away and were now at a distance of only about ten meters. Now weightless, he carefully and gingerly dragged himself to the outer hatch by the arms. Again he made sure that the wire would not come loose from the ship. He stood in the opening of the main entry hatch, steeling himself. Then he aimed at the body of Krenk and gently sent himself drifting out in space, stretching his arms out in front of him, ready to grip Krenk's body when he reached it. As Niloc left the airlock, the ship computer, always awake and always alert, immediately noticed two important factors: - The emergency escape suits had been activated. - No crewmembers could be detected on board. In accordance with the emergency programming that kicked in at such circumstances, the computer assumed that there had been an accident and that the ship had been abandoned. In this situation, with the ship not having been attacked, emphasis was not put on self destruction to avoid boarding and capture by enemies. On the contrary, it was now important to preserve the ship as well as possible, so that the reasons for its demise could later be determined by the Naval Accident Investigation Commission. Similar accidents could then be avoided in the future. The ship initiated its preservation procedures. The main entry hatch slammed shut two centimeters behind Niloc's back, making no noise in the emptiness of space but severing the synthline that had kept the young Sir anchored to the inside of the Courier. Niloc was fully concentrated on grabbing hold of Lord Krenk's body and didn't notice what had happened. Not right away. - - - At Peters Base in Facece there was some consternation when Patrol Ship GH 141 failed to report in Imperial space as expected. Not because the Viceroy's son had been on board, but because it meant the loss of one of the Empire's Elite Commanders. Lord Krenk had done the Empire innumerable services, but because of his lower class background he had made few friends in high circles and had thus been passed over for promotion several times. Among those who knew of him, it was a common opinion that had he just had a single friend at Court, he would have been at least Earl instead of Lord. Nevertheless, except for in the Elite Federation of Pilots, he was quickly forgotten, as was his co-pilot, Squire Hagog. Niloc was not forgotten. His mother deeply mourned the loss of her dear and only son whom she had gone to such lengths to protect from the many dangers and hardships of the universe. She raised a large monument to his memory in the gardens of her palace on Topaz. Niloc's father, the Viceroy, did not mourn. His spoiled son had become a very real problem of late, his stupid and ruthless escapades and indulgences even raising eyebrows at Court. It had prompted the Emperor's aide, the powerful High Chancellor, to discreetly indicate that his Imperial Majesty was disinclined to offer further promotions to his loyal and honored servant, the Viceroy of Facece, unless... Nothing more was spoken; nothing more was needed. It was, the Viceroy thought, a rather elegant solution to a most delicate situation. Sending Niloc out on a long mission with a man as uncompromising and caustic as Krenk would make or break the boy; either way, he would no longer be a liability to his father. And, in hindsight, it could not have gone better; having a son missing on patrol and presumably having given his life for the Emperor was hardly a drawback, career-wise. He was proved right when, precisely three months after Patrol Ship GH 141 was officially declared lost, in a jubiliant ceremony attended by His Imperial Majesty himself, the Viceroy of Facece was elevated to the rank of Imperial Prince. paolo.mariani@spray.no  |
paolo.mariani@spray.no