[05] Elite: Reclamation (3 page)

‘Any clues on why they’ve done this?’

Jenu’s face registered confusion.

‘That’s the bit that doesn’t make sense. There’s nothing of value there as far as we know. It’s just a far flung small-scaled settlement. No appreciable trade. Gross planetary product is well below tax thresholds. Nothing that warrants all this.’

‘We’d better assemble the heads of staff, arrange rescue convoys and put the navy on standby.’

‘Already done, boss.’

Tenim rolled his eyes and allowed himself a faint smile.

‘Good girl, pull everything we have on this … what was it again?’

‘Chione.’ Jenu replied.

‘Chione yeah.’ Tenim grinned, ‘I’m heading back to the office now. I want all the data in an hour.’

‘No problem.’

‘And get me their smarmy excuse for an ambassador, now.’

***

The Imperial ambassador to the Prism system was, as usual, fashionably late; a calculated insult aimed at enraging his Federation counterpart. Twelve minutes seemed to be the delay that the Imperials thought provided the greatest frustration value; long enough to be infuriating, short enough that nothing much could really be done with the wasted time.

The holofac system indicated a connection was being made and Tenim watched as the form of his counterpart, Imperial Ambassador Cuthrick Delaney, took shape, flanked by two of his aides, apparently sitting at the far end of the table despite actually being several light years away. As usual they were bedecked in their finery; flowing robes of rich colours, thick and heavy medallions and, new this time, what appeared to be jewel encrusted tiaras. Imperial fashion was fleeting, but always ostentatious.

They appeared deep in conversation as their images materialised, a show of indifference also calculated to offend in the politest way possible. After a few moments they looked up as if bemused to find themselves in the holofac conference. Tenim had long ago become immune to their machinations.

‘Commissioner Neseva,’ Cuthrick began, with a small incline of his head which his aides copied like marionettes. ‘My apologies for our tardiness. Such an unscheduled communication caused much consternation to our administrators. So many important meetings were moved so that we might accommodate you. Pray, how can we be of assistance?’

Tenim leant back in his chair with an air of nonchalance. He deliberately took his eyes off Cuthrick, looked around the room as if thinking for a moment and then locked eyes with him again.

‘Why did you just bomb the crap out of one of my moons?’

One of the aides actually gasped in horror, a look of consternation crossing his face. Tenim smiled inwardly. Failing to acknowledge Cuthrick’s title and lineage, and accord him the appropriate respect his lofty rank demanded was a breach of protocol that might have started a war in more fraught times.

Cuthrick made a subtle movement with his hand; the aide subsided. He would rise above this crude and uncivilised behaviour, thus demonstrating his own comprehensive and gracious grasp of etiquette.

Initial insults successfully exchanged and a confrontational agenda acknowledged. The meeting could now commence.

‘To which moon are you referring?’ Cuthrick asked, with polite disinterest.

‘The one with the capital city full of dead people.’ Tenim said, remaining deliberately antagonistic and uncouth. ‘The one with the fires burning and Imperial ships huddled in orbit around it. Does that help narrow it down?’

Tenim flicked his fingers forwards and the satellite video feed Jenu had previously shown him appeared between them. Cuthrick studied it for a few brief moments and then consulted with one of his aides.

‘Ah yes,’ Cuthrick acknowledged. ‘Perhaps you’re referring to the Prism system.’

Tenim nodded along gamely. ‘That’s the one.’

Cuthrick allowed the faint trace of a carefully prepared frown to cross his features. He looked up at Tenim as if about to speak and then turned back to his other aide as if to confirm something. Then his face cleared and he nodded as if in appreciative understanding.

‘I believe I understand the confusion,’ Cuthrick said, ‘If I might explain ...’

A text message flashed up in Tenim’s line of sight, visible only to him. It was from Jenu.

‘I’d be delighted to hear it.’ Tenim interrupted, holding up his hand. ‘A moment please.’

This time the other aide gasped and looked furious at another deliberate slight to his ambassador. Tenim acknowledged Jenu’s message and requested the detail.

It’s Tantalum! They’re after the Tantalum. Big deposits apparently. It’s for the new hyperdrive systems.

That would undoubtedly explain the sudden interest. Tantalum, already a relatively exotic metal, had seen its price increase by two orders of magnitude in recent months. New legislation and the decommissioning of old hyperspace technology had been on the priority agenda for a while now. Every jump capable ship needed a new drive and each new drive needed Tantalum …

Tenim faked listening to some conversation out of the line of sight of the holofac, nodding with an air of consternation before turning back to the Imperials.

‘It may interest you to know,’ he began, ‘that I’ve just been informed that our navy will be conducting a battle drill shortly, all routine of course.’

‘Of course,’ Cuthrick nodded. ‘If you feel your navy is out of practice that seems only prudent.’

Tenim smiled in response. ‘By a curious coincidence it appears we’ve selected the Prism system as the zone in which to conduct our drills. It would be unfortunate if we weren’t able to resolve this little matter beforehand. I’m sure we’d both agree that any potential misunderstandings are best avoided.’

‘I completely concur,’ Cuthrick replied.

‘So might I humbly suggest that you withdraw your forces from our moon and consider compensation for your unprovoked and hostile actions?’

‘In the interests of interstellar peace and cooperation,’ Cuthrick began smoothly, ‘we’d naturally want to comply assiduously. Unhappily, there is a legal matter that prevents us from so doing.’

Tenim’s eyes narrowed. ‘A legal matter?’

Cuthrick nodded with an unconvincing sympathetic frown. ‘Indeed. Without wishing to impugn your records, it would appear that your assertion that this moon is “yours”, that is to say it lies within the jurisdiction of the venerated Federation, is, in a word …’ Cuthrick paused, as if considering the precise word to use, ‘erroneous.’

Tenim was taken aback. This was not what he’d expected.

‘It’s been settled for over thirty-five years. We colonised it back in 3260. What are you talking about? It’s never been an Imperial system.’

Cuthrick now looked distinctly smug.

‘Without wishing to indelicately contradict your statement, it transpires that it is and has been for some time.’

‘Nonsense!’

Cuthrick flicked his own fingers forward, with a little extra flourish for dramatic flair. A long legal document scrolled rapidly upwards between them, the text rolling past at a dazzling speed. As they watched, it slowed and a particular passage was brought into focus, zooming in and becoming highlighted.

‘Mining rights to the systems were granted to the Empire in 3225,’ Cuthrick noted in an offhand manner. ‘Notwithstanding, notice of our intention to deal with the illegal occupation was vouchsafed on a number of occasions within various communiques, but alas, it appears the Federation have overlooked them.’

‘I saw no communiques …’ Tenim fumed, before realising he was playing straight into the Imperials’ hands. The first aide gestured quickly and a series of date-stamped and detailed text messages appeared beside the legal document. Tenim had no doubt they contained the appropriate notifications, buried in obtuse and obfuscating language, couched in terms that no one would notice and almost impossible to spot.

 ‘Given the dearth of response we felt we had no recourse but to exercise our rights under section …’

Cuthrick turned to one of his aides, who whispered something at him.

‘… under Section 48, Subsection 2, Paragraph 3, Point 11. The forcible eviction of illegal occupiers …’

‘Let me see that.’ Tenim gestured towards the document and quickly submitted it for verification. To his dismay his own systems quickly came back with the words ‘Authentication Confirmed’ in glowing green text.

Tenim sighed.

‘On a more positive note, ’ Cuthrick continued, ‘we have no intention of seeking recompense for the costs incurred in the eviction, or even for distress caused by the many decades of illegal occupation of our sovereign territory.’

‘Most generous of you.’ Tenim growled.

 ‘However, might I humbly suggest that you find an alternative venue for your practice drill?’ The echo of Tenim’s previous words was a subtle, but effective, move.

‘I’ll take the matter under advisement.’

Cuthrick smiled thinly and courteously, inclining his head in the same infuriating fashion.

‘Then, if we have no other business?’

‘None whatsoever.’ Tenim ground out.

‘A pleasure then, until the next time.’

Tenim gestured for the holofac transmission to end. Cuthrick and his aides vanished in a glimmer of light. He sat still for a moment, allowing his frustration to ebb.

Various ideas formed in his head, each one quickly discarded in favour of the next, until he came up with a scheme he felt had merit. Then he contacted Jenu.

‘Mobilise the navy?’ she asked immediately.

‘No.’ Tenim replied.

‘No? After what they did?’

‘Not our moon after all apparently,’ Tenim replied, offhand. ‘The Tantalum belongs to them, there’s no doubt about it. We’re on the back foot too; they’ll have an effective blockade already. Penetrating that from a tactically inferior position would be too expensive. They have the high ground.’

‘We’re just going to let them waltz in and appropriate it? Them?’ her mouth curved in distaste. ‘What about the colonists?’

Tenim shrugged. ‘Complete outrage of course. Mercy missions, emergency medical envoys, I’ll demand everything. I’ll also lodge a number of strenuously worded official protestations of complaint, naturally. Every possible and appropriate action will be taken.’

‘Short of actually doing something you mean.’ Jenu clicked her tongue in disapproval and shook her head slightly. ‘And what about the Tantalum?’

Tenim stroked his beard carefully. ‘Dangerous business, mining. Digging into the ground, extracting the ore, refining it. Just when you think you’ve got it home and docked you find your freighters ambushed by pirates and you’ve lost the lot. I imagine it’s going to be tough keeping a supply line open to such a remote system. Piracy’s a curse.’

‘But there isn’t any piracy in the Prism system,’ Jenu countered.

Tenim looked across at her and raised his eyebrows.

‘Not yet, no.’

AD 3300

Chapter One

Grim laughter, raucous but co-ordinated singing, simple but emotive chants; the solidarity of workers standing together to assert their rights. Crudely made banners held high in grubby roughened hands. Defiance, anger and resolve. Women and children marching alongside their menfolk in defiance of curfew, claiming ground, demanding to be heard. Flags waving, feet stamping; a crowd seeking confrontation.

 The protest had been watched for some time. It gathered strength, firebrand agitators whipping the crowd to a fury. A number of independent protests merged and converged towards the Loren Piazza, the ornate gardens that now surrounded the administrative centre of Leeson City. They were off limits to all but Imperial citizens, patrolled by guards. Military forces were brought to guard the administrative buildings, but the perimeter of the Piazza was too expansive to be adequately defended.

The chants were predictable, the cry of the overworked and underfed. Even slaves had rights; rights that were being abused.

Thousands had come, thousands who knew their actions could result in the legal deaths of both themselves and their families. Thousands who felt they had little to lose.

The crowd stepped up to the edge of the Piazza where a single Captain of the Guard stood facing them, backed up by a phalanx of armed men, automatic rifles held ready. The captain’s arm was outstretched, palm facing outwards.

‘Who speaks for you?’ the captain demanded.

A man pushed through the crowd. Bearded and unkempt he nonetheless carried an air of authority and stood tall, his bearing strong and erect despite shabby clothes. He stepped a few paces forward from the now silent crowd.

‘I do.’

Both men looked each other over carefully. Each assessed and measured; sizing up and evaluating the other.

‘Rieger,’ the captain said, with a brief nod.

‘Captain Dufus,’ Rieger acknowledged, with a correspondingly faint smile.

‘You will disperse and return to your work,’ the captain said, raising his voice to the crowd and casting a look towards them over Rieger’s shoulder. ‘If you do this immediately, this infringement of curfew will go unpunished.’

Rieger turned, sweeping his arms wide to take in the crowd, who remained unmoved. He spun back around to Dufus with a laugh.

‘I don’t think you’ve convinced them, Dufus.’

Dufus stepped forward, motioning to Rieger. Rieger stepped forward. The two men spoke in hushed tones.

‘Where’s this going, Rieger?’

‘We want relaxed working hours, three meals a day, a place by the sea and a holiday off-world. First-class hotel passes, our own private transport system and a nice hot shower.’

‘Anything else?’ Dufus prompted, deadpan.

‘And I want to personally fuck all three of the Senator’s daughters.’

Dufus smirked. ‘Don’t we all. And what will you settle for?’

‘Just the older two, not so bothered about the dark-haired freak.’

Dufus stifled a laugh, ‘I meant on behalf of your protest.’

‘Our working hours as they would be in the core of the Empire. Medical supplies, food and drink, accommodation that’s not full of shit and bugs. You know our demands, we want our rights, that’s all. We’re Imperial slaves, not vagabonds. A decree from the Senator that this will be done, signed by the Patrons.’