On The Imperium’s Secret Service (Imperium Cicernus) (4 page)

But they might as well have been, she realised, as she studied the shantytowns and saw the listless faces of the people inside.  They had no jobs – and no hopes of getting them.  Their lives depended upon the food they could beg, borrow or steal from their social superiors.  She found it easy to believe that most of them would become criminals or prostitutes as they grew older, no matter how horrid the concepts seemed to her.  They had no other hope of survival. 

On Edo, there were at least some jobs being created and educational systems to prepare children for a career in the Imperium.  But on Dorado...there was no hope.  How could there be, when the people in charge kept their boots firmly pressed down upon their people’s throats?  Educated citizens often became
more
discontented citizens.

The spaceport was surrounded by armed guards, twice as many as she remembered seeing the last time they’d left the spaceport.  Lord Fitzgerald spoke briefly to one of the guards and he waved them through without checking their paperwork or even their ID cards. 

Mariko felt a tear welling in her eye as they drove into the spaceport itself and stopped outside one of the sealed hangers.  She’d been an independent trader-captain.  Now she was little more than a slave to a man she barely knew.  She looked at Lord Fitzgerald and saw him looking back at her, his bright eyes intent on...something.  He’d been privately evaluating her, she realised, and shivered inside.  She was nothing more than his property now.

Lord Fitzgerald climbed out of the taxi and pressed a key-card against the hanger door.  It hissed open, revealing a modern shuttle sitting inside, ready to launch through the hatch in the roof.  Dorado was too poor to afford the force fields that other spaceports used to protect shuttles and starships from the weather, even though most spacefaring craft would hardly be damaged by a downpour from high above.  Instead, they used solid hangers, making it far harder for anyone to take off without paying the proper landing fees.  Mariko had discovered, the hard way, that everything came with a charge.  They’d even tried to charge her for disposing of her ship’s waste.

“Wow,” Mai said.  “Are you going to let us fly that?”

Lord Fitzgerald smiled indulgently.  “Of course,” he said.  “She is a beauty, isn’t she?”

Mariko couldn't disagree.  The shuttle was a long thin craft, easily capable of carrying the three of them and their packages to orbit.  It even
looked
new, as if Lord Fitzgerald had bought it only yesterday.  Mariko was experienced enough to spot the subtle signs that the craft was much older than it looked, but even so...Mai had always been the one to love riding shuttles, as opposed to flying starships, yet Mariko found herself wondering if she would wind up competing with her sister over flying rights.  And yet it was great to see her sister slowly coming back to normal. 

A trio of workers helped them load the shuttle, accepted a tip as though it was their due, and then departed as the hatch overhead slowly hissed open.  Lord Fitzgerald sat down in the pilot’s seat, tapped a command into the autopilot, and then stepped back to allow the computers to bring the engines online.  Mariko stared at him, unable to understand how someone could own such a craft without learning to fly it.  There were millions – probably billions – of people across the Imperium who would have sold their souls for such a shuttlecraft, something they could fly right across their star system if they chose.  Why would Lord Fitzgerald not know how to fly it?

She hesitated, and then asked why this was. 

“I have people to do that for me,” Lord Fitzgerald said, grandly.  “Unfortunately, my last pilot suffered an accident on this planet and I needed a replacement.  Luckily, I heard about you two and decided that you were worth gambling on.”

The shuttle slowly rose into the air as the autopilot brought the thrusters online.  Mariko had never seen a computer intelligent enough to fly a shuttle on its own, even unimaginatively.  There were harrowing horror stories shared among pilots of what happened when the computers were trusted too much, even computer systems that were supposed to be the best of the best.  Computers simply didn't have the intuition of a human pilot, or the willingness to cut corners and safety regulations where necessary.  And they might believe what they were being told by the ATC system until it was too late.

But there was little flying through the sky to worry about, she told herself firmly.  She still felt nervous until the shuttle had cleared the atmosphere and started to head outwards, towards the holding orbits favoured by starships on brief visits to friendly worlds.  Dorado didn't have many ships in orbit, but she was surprised to notice a pair of bulk freighters and a converted light cruiser that was probably a pirate ship.  No one on the planet below would question the origin of any cheap goods that happened to be put on offer, even if they were still covered in blood. 

A single starship, occupying an orbit of its own, slowly came into view through the shuttle’s cockpit.  Mariko felt another twinge of envy as the starship took on shape and form; a flattened arrowhead, painted a glowing white and gold.  She was easily sixty meters long, with two stubby wings that probably doubled as phase drive generators and nacelles, her hull smoothed in a manner that no military or commercial ship would have matched.  Her ship, wherever she was, had been a blocky ugly brick; this ship was almost beautiful.  And
they
were expected to fly it for a man too stupid to learn to fly it for himself?  How could anyone not learn how to fly their own ship?

Surprisingly, there was a second shuttle docked under the port wing; a classical assault shuttle design dating back several hundred years.  The Imperial Navy had withdrawn them from service long ago, selling off their remaining shuttles to private interests.  Hundreds of them had ended up on the Rim, being used by traders, smugglers and pirates alike.  Mariko had even planned to get one for the
Happy Wanderer
once they stuck it big.  Now...now they would be forever passengers on someone else’s ship, even if they were the pilots.

The shuttle altered course and came up under the starboard wing, docking with a gentle thud that ran through the ship.  Mariko was impressed to note that the artificial gravity didn't even fluctuate as the shuttle matched its fields with the starship.  A moment later, the hatch hissed open and Lord Fitzgerald led the way into his ship.  Mariko opened her mouth to ask what the ship was called and then stopped when she saw the name, carved neatly into the wooden panelling covering the bulkhead. 
Bruce Wayne
.

“
Bruce Wayne
?”  She repeated.  “Who was Bruce Wayne?”

“An old hero of mine,” Lord Fitzgerald said.  He didn't seem offended by the question, or by her ignorance.  “There was a fashion for naming private spaceships rather silly things in High Society.  I decided to name my ship after one of my heroes instead.  It is definitely better than
Sticky Fingers
or
Pretty Mouth
.”  He chuckled as he led them up a set of recessed stairs and onto the next deck.  “Do you both want to share a cabin or have your own individual cabins?”

“Share,” Mariko said.

“Separate,” Mai said, at the same time.

Lord Fitzgerald chuckled.  “I’ll assign you to two adjoining cabins,” he said.  “You don’t need to worry about water usage on this ship, so feel free to have another shower and get changed into something more suitable for ship duty.  After that, meet me in my lounge so we can have a proper chat about your duties.”

One of the recessed doorways hissed open at his touch, revealing a modest-sized cabin.  A ground-gripper, someone who had never left the planet that birthed them, would have been shocked at how small it was, but it was larger than Mariko had expected.  There was a bed, a handful of drawers under the bed, a wardrobe for their clothes and a tiny washroom.  And there
was
a water shower as well as the sonic showers she’d seen on other starships.  Only the most luxurious of ships carried water showers. 

“There’s a small set of starship plans here,” Lord Fitzgerald said, picking up a set of papers and passing them to her.  “Take your time.  I’ll see you when you’re ready.”

He departed, leaving the two girls staring at each other. 
Bruce Wayne
had to be the most expensive starship Mariko had ever seen, let alone piloted.  The wooden panels on the wall, concealing the metal bulkheads underneath, would cost thousands of credits alone.  A brief glance at the starship plans revealed that
Bruce Wayne
seemed to have larger drives than would be standard in a ship of her size, at least a non-military ship.  How could one person – or even both of them – handle her?  Her computer systems had to be the most advanced and automated in the known galaxy.

“I think we’d better wash and dress,” Mariko said, finally.  They would have time for sorting out the rest of their purchases later.  The only thing she wanted to do was put the blasters in a drawer and bury them under her older clothes.  “Hurry up.  I don’t think we really want to keep him waiting.”

Twenty minutes later, she looked at herself in the mirror and smiled.  The new shipsuit fitted perfectly, giving her some protection in case there was a disaster onboard.  Anyone who wanted to qualify as a starship pilot had to know precisely what to do at all times – and which corners could not be safely cut, for any reason.  It would probably take several days to grow used to flying
Bruce Wayne
, but they should have the time.  The ship’s computers could probably throw simulations at them to give them some additional practice before something went genuinely wrong.

Mai stepped out of her cabin and struck a pose.  Mariko opened her mouth to object and then closed it again.  Mai’s shipsuit was at least one size too small, clinging to her body and showing off everything she had.  Their mother would have taken her hairbrush or slipper to Mai’s behind for wearing something so blatantly sexual, probably giving Mariko the same treatment afterwards for letting her sister show herself off so bluntly.  But what was the point of objecting now?  They were slaves and all the luxury around them belonged to someone else.

Lord Fitzgerald’s cabin was on deck two, easily the largest single compartment on the ship.  The first thing Mariko saw as she stepped inside was the stars hanging outside, burning relentlessly in the inky darkness of space; their light shining through a transparent panel to illuminate the bed at one end of the cabin.  Mariko wasn't too surprised.  It would probably be romantic to make love under the stars, if she’d gone to the bed of her own free will.

“Welcome aboard,” Lord Fitzgerald said.  He’d been studying their ID cards, using a reader of a design Mariko had never seen before.  The cards included their pilot licences and various other qualifications, some of which were almost meaningless.  “I trust that you like your cabins?”

“Yes, Milord,” Mariko said.  Lord Fitzgerald didn’t seem to have even
looked
at Mai, but she thought it was better that she did the talking.  “Sir...exactly what will we be doing for you?”

Lord Fitzgerald grinned at her.  “I need a pilot or two,” he said.  “Without one, this lovely ship becomes nothing more than a very expensive space station.  I am sure that such qualified pilots as yourselves will have no problems leaning how to fly
Bruce Wayne
.”

His expression sobered suddenly.  “I understand that you did not exactly...
choose
to join my crew,” he said.  Mariko nodded, quickly.  “And I don’t think that I would get the best out of you by keeping you in bondage.  So I have an offer for you.”

Mariko frowned, but said nothing.  “I had to pay fifty thousand credits for buying you both out of jail – and out of your friend Carlos’s tender clutches,” he continued.  “I am prepared to hire you both at a flat rate of one thousand credits per month...”

“One thousand credits...!”  Mai gasped.

“One thousand credits,” Lord Fitzgerald confirmed.  Mariko shared her sister’s shock.  The standard rates for pilots, even on the most prestigious shipping lines, were never very much over three hundred credits per month.  “I will also give you food, lodging and basic supplies as part of the arrangement.  Should you wish to be free of me, you can pay back the money I spent on you and we will separate peacefully.”

But at one thousand credits a month, who would want to go
?  Mariko asked herself.  Lord Fitzgerald had to be insane, or simply too wealthy to understand the value of money.  A few years of working for him, after they had cleared their debt, would give them enough money to purchase a new freighter and start again.  And if they made contacts with others who were just as wealthy and powerful as Lord Fitzgerald, they would be well-placed to start a whole new shipping line.