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- Herausgeber: WS
- Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
- Serie: The Anjelican Saga
- Sprache: Englisch
When the leak of sensitive information is traced back to his computer console, Government official and minor celebrity Danny Parque’s bright future comes crashing down around him.
Found guilty and sent out as a conscripted criminal to fight for an Empire he once loved but comes to despise, horrifying combat leads to capture by the terrorists he is supposed to fear. Danny joins their ranks; persuaded that they are pursuing the same freedom he craves. But the time soon comes when, entangled in a new web of lies, Danny wonders if the price of freedom is his own conscience.
When asked to betray everything - and everyone - he once held dear, the decision must be made...Whose side is he on?
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Seitenzahl: 557
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014
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We Bleed The Same
David Wilkinson
Inspired Quill Publishing
Published by Inspired Quill: July 2014
First Edition
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The publisher has no control over, and is not responsible for, any third party websites or their contents.
We Bleed The Same © 2014 by David Wilkinson
Contact the author through their website: http://anjelican.wordpress.com
Chief Editor: Sara-Jayne Slack
Cover design by: Venetia Jackson
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-908600-30-1
eBook ISBN: 978-1-908600-31-8
EPUB Edition
Inspired Quill Publishing, UK
Business Reg. No. 7592847
http://www.inspired-quill.com
Dedication
For Helen, my best life choice.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Acknowledgements
In finally getting this novel to press, there are quite a number of people deserving of my thanks. Firstly, Sara-Jayne Slack of Inspired Quill for taking me on, despite the rawness of my draft, and providing the first crucial edit. Thanks also go to Joe O’Connor for providing a frank and robust professional critique that pushed me through all the stages of grieving in an hour and fourteen minutes before realising that I agreed with ninety percent of what he said. Also at Inspired Quill, thanks to Venetia Jackson for the cover design and Diani Davies for picking up all the proofing errors that everyone else missed.
With a first novel, I have the very great pleasure of thanking those people who helped nurture me through those first months of learning at the Leicester Writing School. Principle among these was Rod Duncan, a novelist who is talented both as a writer and a teacher of the craft. Those I shared the exciting academic year of 2011-2012 in Rod’s workshops all contributed to the improvement of this book. Michelle Muessel deserves a special mention as the first person to read the entire work in its original state and for giving such excellent feedback as a result.
I would like to thank my cold-readers, Jo Baldry, Jo Page and Clive Wilkinson for holding their noses and taking the plunge. And finally I must thank my wife, Helen Child. Having listened to me witter on about writing a book for so long, she gave me the shove I needed. Without her this book certainly would not have existed for at least another twenty or so years.
We Bleed The Same
Chapter 1
“Danniter Parque?”
An unfamiliar silhouette in the doorway. Was this the one? The one who would finally move on from questions, to…?
“They told me you’re famous, Mr Parque, but I’m not from around here. So would you please be good enough to confirm your identity?”
Danny swallowed and nodded.
The mountain of a man advanced into the room and Danny cringed back into the bare metal chair. He wished he could sink into it. Encase his vulnerable flesh in the hard steel to protect it against the violence he suspected was long overdue.
As the man entered the cone of light projected downwards by the shade of the only light in the room, Danny could see that most of his bulk had run to fat. He did not look like the others who had been carrying out the interrogations so far. The marked improvement of quality in his tailoring gave him sharper, more defined edges. If Danny’s previous interrogators’ physical fuzziness had gone hand in hand with incompetence, then this one’s precisely creased outline was probably a matter for concern.
The man turned around to face the guard who stood in the doorway, stun-baton at the ready.
“Wait at the guards’ station.”
This was new too. Not only did he dare to give orders, but did so with the tone of someone who expected to be obeyed. The guard departed, pulling closed the heavy riveted door with a resounding thunk. Danny felt fear and vulnerability wash over him as the man put down a large file, adorned with the Imperial coat of arms, on the bare metal table between them.
This type of folder was unfamiliar to him, even after all of his years working for the Government. It was stuffed with smaller folders inside, each of which had a plastic tab on the corner. He found it quaint that paper files were still used in some departments, especially those which were security related, but he realised their psychological effect for the first time.
It sat there. Like a time bomb.
Danny had an overwhelming urge to reach out and open it, find out what the hell was inside, but his hands were shackled to the chair’s uprights. The man opposite was in no hurry. He took off his jacket before rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Why would he need to do that? He pulled out a disposable tissue, wiped real or imagined dirt from the other chair and dropped it on the floor before sitting down. With both hands on top of the folder, he peered across the table.
“Why are you here, Mr Parque?”
“I… I don’t understand…”
“Mr Parque, I sincerely hope that we can do this without the assistance of the guards.”
Danny stopped breathing. He thought of the noises he tried not to hear. The ones that went on all night…
“I’m sorry but look… I’ve answered questions from the police, the GSO, the Proctors, some guys who I assume were Naval Intel and the LaMarque Investigations Office. All their reports must be in that folder. What else is it you want to know?”
“You can tell me what actually happened.”
“Excuse me?”
“They were all concerned with your motivation. I’m interested in events. Their reports are thoroughly unenlightening with respect to the facts, Mr Parque, although your prediction concerning my file falls down – for some reason I don’t have an L.I.O. report in here.”
He made an annotation on the cover of the light green folder. A flash of hope cut through Danny’s mind. Had someone finally decided to help him? The man put the lid back on the pen and placed it on the table, looking up at Danny with a cold, penetrating stare from washed-out, blue eyes.
Danny felt a chill in the uncomfortably warm room. “Who are you?”
“My name is Kepler, but I guess what you actually meant to ask is what am I? I am the one you tell, Mr Parque. I’m your opportunity to save yourself.”
Kepler leaned back, his shirt stretching over an adequate midriff. He somehow affected an air of co-mingled expectation and boredom, but Danny could still see nothing but cold calculation in his emotionally dead eyes. He thought about what to do next and figured that at this stage, there really was nothing to lose.
“Okay, where do you want me to start?”
“Excellent!”
Kepler leaned forward again, opened the front page of the file and pulled out a pair of reading glasses. “Danniter Jean-Michelle Parque. Aged 33 standard as of last week. Happy birthday, Mr Parque! Born to a tax proctor and a police forensic accountant – the very same ones who cracked the Rindallian Crime Syndicate Case. At the age of 13, as a result of your parents dying in the Place de l’Empreur incident, you became famous as Little Danny P – a mascot for the great liberalisation of LaMarque. The Governor became your guardian on a swell of public support and a privileged education and career followed. You were in charge of his private office by the age of 29.”
He looked up. “Well done Mr Parque.”
“Excuse me?”
“Those who aspire to central government should reach a senior position by the time they’re 30. You just made it.”
Danny shrugged and looked around the bare concrete walls of the cell. Kepler put his glasses down on the top sheet and folded his arms, ignoring the look of despair that Danny was sure must be on his face.
“A meteoric rise, Mr Parque, but what happened next?”
Danny took a deep breath.
Chapter 2
At his desk outside the Governor’s office, Danny scrolled though the advanced copies of the following day’s new stories, sent in from all the major media outlets. Stylus in hand, he swiped black electronic lines through those running counter to what the LaMarquois Government knew to be true and wrote a large D in the margin. D-notices. They had always been called that although he did not know why. ‘Dodgy’? ‘Diabolical’? ‘Don’t you fucking dare write this’?
As usual he started with the society and celebrity sections, checking what they had to say about him and giving any with jokes the black line treatment. Disappointingly, only three mentioned him today and, although two were positive, the third was that stupid infographic from The Verzail Squawk that they had been attempting to get through the office for weeks. The one charting his progress with the society women of the LaMarquois capital.
Turning to the real news stories, he did not expect to find anything interesting, so it came as a shock when he reached the LaMarque Daily Post’s leader to find ‘Danny Parque: is he really up to it?’ That bloody woman, again – Jeanette Marceaux. She’d had it in for him ever since the Agricultural Commission’s annual review. After he had given her the quote ‘The LaMarquois citizen’s ability to feed himself has always been his greatest advantage’, she had written a really subtle, sarcastic piece that he hadn’t noticed on submission because of the following day’s hang-over. He had been sending her news suggestions ever since, showing he was on top of his brief, but she always responded with more and more scathing pieces on his abilities. It had reached the point where he dare not delegate the press review for fear of something getting through.
Danny hit the distribution button, leaned back in his chair with his hands over his face and sighed, his mind wandering to the anticipated aromas of the wine he would soon be drinking. He would go to the Sommelier’s Club. George would see how much he needed it and wave him through. Then a quiet seat in the corner. The red list. Time to make a dent in the 1017 Grappiers. The pulling of the cork. Getting his nose right inside the bowl and inhaling…what would it be? Blackberries…nettles…a hint of honey…
“Danniter Parque?” A woman’s voice. Danny took a moment to imagine a face before pulling his fingers down. Wow. He’d got it right.
“Call me Danny.”
“You mean like Little Danny P?”
He felt a flash of irritation as a smile flickered around the edge of her mouth and her eyes twinkled. She continued.
“You’re a PPS now, so isn’t Mr Parque more appropriate? I’m Sandrine; I’ve been assigned to this office.” She held out an elegant and well manicured hand. For just a moment it looked like she expected him to kiss it but then Danny shook off his fatigue and rose to shake it instead.
“Seriously Sandrine, it’s all first names here, even the Governor.”
She made a gesture to brush her hair out of her face despite the fact that not a strand was out of place. “Well in that case, it’s Sandie.”
“Okay then, Sandie.” Danny came around to the front of his desk and realised the height he assumed she possessed due to heels was entirely her own. “Have you brought your file?”
She pulled it from under the arm of her Maison de Perle three-piece suit. Danny tapped the screen and, being surprised by the reported age of 25, immediately scrolled down to her employment notes. “Two years in Government Liaison? Is that it?”
She had the good grace to look embarrassed. “Yes I know. Two years of picking menus and deciding which wines to put on the tables.”
He scrolled down further, “So what will you be doing here?”
He frowned as, where he expected to find ‘Assistant Diary Secretary,’ he discovered ‘Governor’s Special Assistant.’
“Shit! Who did you have to do to…?”
“Ah, Sandie, you’re here!” said Governor Claremont as he bustled into the room clutching an empty mug. He changed course as he saw her and kissed her warmly on both cheeks.
“Welcome! I’m afraid a big report’s just landed on my desk, ma cherie, but Danny here will look after you…”
“I will…?”
“He’ll show you where the pens are, anyway, and he should be able to guide you through the gastronomic catastrophe of our canteen.”
He leaned closer to her and whispered in mock-conspiratorial tones, “Other than that, you should probably ask me!”
Danny’s confusion continued while the Governor and Sandie laughed. He never thought of old Hercules having dalliances with women young enough to be his daughter.
Daughter?
He returned to the top of the file and read her name – Sandrine Valnuageux. Wasn’t that the surname of the Governor’s brother-in-law? Ah! The ‘little niece’ of whom the Governor would speak in glowing terms after his second glass of Shupillier.
Danny became aware that they were both looking at him expectantly.
“Find anything interesting in her file?”
“No, Hercules. Sorry, I don’t mean Sandrine….”
“Sandie!”
“…sorry, yes, Sandie. I don’t mean she isn’t interesting, I mean…er…”
Why the hell was he flustered?
The Governor leaned closer and whispered, “You’ve actually gone red.” He grinned broadly and punched Danny in the arm before swaggering off, asking loudly if anyone had seen the kettle. Sandie smirked at him.
He tossed her file onto his desk.
“Well, I’m done for the day and it’s far too late for you to start anything now. Just dump your stuff over there and we’ll start fresh Monday. I’ve had a heavy week and I fancy a drink. Care to join me?”
“I guess I should keep in my new manager’s good books. Sure, let’s go for a drink.”
About three weeks after Sandie arrived, the Governor asked Danny to step into his office. He was lighting his pipe, which meant a reflective mood, so Danny put away his notebook and sat down. The Governor continued to look out at the panoramic views from his window while he puffed the expensive Simplaeran tobacco to life. He turned to face Danny with a strange smile. “You know I never had children?”
He and the Governor had grown close over the years but this sudden topic of discussion still took him aback.
“It’s none of my business Hercules, but yes, I know.”
The Governor smiled. “When I took up this position it was made clear there were to be no complications from familial obligations or inheritances – no dynasty building. But I’ve been here a long time. LaMarque has gone from strength to strength and I like to think I’ve had a great deal to do with that. I could have moved on but I like it here. I’m a native of LaMarque and have put my roots down again, deep down. It has got to the point where I care who will come after me.”
Danny was stunned. “Are you leaving?”
“Not yet, not for a good while.”
He drew lazily on his pipe and Danny sat patiently but his head was abuzz with thoughts and hopes and dreams.
“I took you in on account of what happened to your parents – you know that. They were good people and true LaMarquois. What happened… was horrific. So I gave their son a break.”
Danny felt the usual pang of sorrow and pain at this subject but tried to focus on what was to come next.
“But it turned out you’re special. You rub along well with people, you get the score and you inherited your parents’ moral compass, which is a rare enough quality.”
Things often started sounding like speeches when Governor Claremont spoke at length.
“Did you ever wonder why you advanced so quickly when your competitors had connections and influence and important parents?”
“It had crossed my mind.”
“Because all that influence created too much noise, and I couldn’t tell who was actually a patriot. I want the one who comes after me to put LaMarque before anything else.”
Danny looked at the floor and mumbled something self-deprecatory.
“I like you, Danny. You remind me of myself and, if I had had a son, I’d have wished for him to grow up with the qualities and values you have. The population knows and respects you, and you are competent.”
Now his ears were ringing. Was the Governor about to say…?
“In twelve weeks’ time I have to nominate someone to go to the Central Governmental College on Home. It will be you, as first step on the road to eventually bringing you back here to become the next governor.”
He smiled warmly. “I plan to make you my heir and I will work hard to make you my successor, too.”
The Governor looked at him kindly and passed a tissue. “A lot to take in, I know. But it is why I’ve brought in Sandie, to start training her as your replacement.”
Danny pulled himself together and thanked his patron warmly before taking his leave. He smiled and paused as he reached the door. Maybe now his pursuit of Sandie would not be so fraught with potential pitfalls.
“Was there something else?” asked the Governor.
He decided not to let on, just the same.
“No, Hercules. Thank you.”
He let himself out.
For two days after the startling meeting with the Governor, he did not see Sandie. She was away on a fact finding mission regarding veal production standards or some such. Upon her return she appeared before his desk, grinning.
“I brought you something back.”
“Oh?” said Danny looking up to see a riot of freckles on her beautiful face; a result of her time outside in the agricultural districts.
She placed a bottle of LaMarquois 35 year old Chateau Claremont Grechand Shupillier in front of him, with a large bow tied to the front in the family colours of black and gold. Danny was astounded.
“That thing must be worth 3 months of my salary.”
“Four and a half actually but Uncle Herc called me with your good news and told me to liberate something from the cellar.”
“I’m speechless.”
She leaned forward and spoke quietly enough that none of the others in the office would be able to hear.
“I know we usually go out with the guys on a Friday but I thought we could go back to yours and drink this in private.”
Sandie sat on Danny’s chaise longue while he found a pair of tall, thin Shupillier glasses with flared tops. He returned to find she had kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet up under her so that she leaned in towards the middle of the seat. She had taken the band out of her hair and it fell to one side of her face, tumbling towards her shoulder and skidding over it like a waterfall hitting a rock shelf. He sat down next to her and reached for the bottle, pouring the sparkling wine carefully, so as not to waste a single, expensive drop.
“So, Central College boy,” teased Sandie as he passed her one of the glasses, “what should we drink to?”
Danny smiled, “Your uncle and his impeccable taste.”
Sandie sipped the Shupillier and fixed her stare on him over the top of her glass. Danny drank from his own and felt the bubbles bursting in the top of his mouth. Licking his lips, he noticed that she had undone the top two buttons of her waistcoat, the jacket having previously parted her company by the door. He leaned forward and made to brush the hair away from the side of her face, but his hand reached her ear and stayed there, stroking it. She turned her head and kissed his palm before turning back to where his face was waiting. Her lips turned out to be so very soft. She advanced a little across the settee towards him and his other hand found its way to her ….
“Mr Parque!”
Danny blinked and remembered where he was.
Kepler smiled from the other side of the table. The first smile Danny had seen from him.
“Is this strictly relevant?”
“You asked me to tell you what happened.”
“Mr Parque, I’m already firmly convinced that everyone is having better sex than me. I do not wish to have my nose rubbed in it by you.”
“Turning you on, is it?”
The smile vanished from his face and Danny instantly regretted his flippancy. He had forgotten for just a moment the reality of this man’s power over him. Kepler took off his reading glasses and folded his beefy arms.
“I have other predilections, Mr Parque.”
He paused as the possible threat sank in to Danny’s mind. After a few moments, the lesson presumably having been deemed learned, Kepler put his glasses back on and once more picked up his pen.
“Would it be accurate to say you started a sexual relationship with Miss Valnuageux?” he asked, taking notes again.
“It was more than that. We fell in love.”
“Did the Governor know?”
“We thought we were being careful but I suppose he must have done.”
“Why do you suppose that?”
“Well, I’m here aren’t I? There must be some reason he’s letting this happen.”
“I see. Continue.”
Ten weeks after that first night, Danny restlessly arose and donned his dressing gown. It was still dark, but, so as not to disturb the slumbering form still in bed, he refrained from switching on the light and fumbled around his desk until the computer blinked on. As it warmed up and ran the security software, he looked across at the recumbent and beautiful body lying in his bed.
A beep announced that he was hooked to the secure server. He opened the file marked ‘Project 4’ and connected to the intelnet to see if there were any intelligence updates relevant to the case. As the system searched the database, he glanced at the clock and noticed it was still 0423 local. He couldn’t sleep. The solution to the Rindallian problem was proving elusive and with his Central nomination looming, he was under increasing pressure to wrap it up.
“No new information.”
No help there, then. Sighing deeply, he leaned back with his hands over his face, rubbing the slight ridge on the top of his nose, a physical trait shared by his mother, although the steeper bottom half of the facial feature had been inherited from his father. He couldn’t help thinking they would have no problem seeing the answer.
An arm snaked around his neck from behind and was quickly joined by another. Sandie kissed the back of his head.
“You still obsessing about the uranium problem?” she asked.
“Mmmm.”
“I’ll get some coffee on.”
Danny kissed her hand. “Love you.”
“I know.”
A mug appeared in his hand a few minutes later and Sandie used her thigh to bump him up the bench in front of the desk.
“It just doesn’t make sense. I can’t tell how Rindall managed the price cut.”
“Couldn’t it just be as simple as them taking a loss to try and hurt us?”
“No. Uranium’s profit margins are dictated by the navy. They let a cartel operate because they don’t want any instability in supply coming from trading it on the free market.”
“They’ve found another way of shaving costs then.”
“You’d think, but everyone’s been doing that for years. There’s no slack left in the system.”
Danny sighed and sipped his coffee. So stupid to be hung up on a problem that his mother would have solved in five minutes flat. Maybe that was it – just a good old piece of forensic accountancy. Make the numbers dance until they fall into the pattern that made sense.
“You look like you’ve had an idea, Danny. I’ll go for a shower.”
She picked up her dressing gown as she left the room. When she returned twenty minutes later, she found him breathing hard and staring at the screen.
“What is it?”
He turned and stared at her.
“I dug out the full breakdown of costs as we know them from our own production, and compared them to intel on Rindall. Then I created a programme that would compile combinations that added up to within the margin of error for their price reduction of 18.5%.”
Sandie slapped her forehead.
“It was all so simple!”
“You’re taking the piss.”
“Sorry…”
He was too excited to listen to the rest of her apology.
“Only two combinations came out. One total was from tool maintenance, ground to orbit transportation and the Senate lobbying budget.”
“The bribes.”
“Yes, the bribes. So there’s no way that could be it.”
“What’s the other?”
“Workers’ wages, health and welfare payments and the safety budget.”
“Do you mean…?”
“I think they’ve gone back to the gulag.”
Chapter 3
“It was inevitable, Danny.”
The Governor sat stirring his tea as Danny paced round the room, shouting.
“Typical bloody Rindallians – just the kind of thing they’d do! We can report them, send in the proctors! Okay, it’ll never be proved and they’ll just start paying again but it will tie them up for weeks, disrupt their supply, send Rindallian stock through the floor!”
“Danny! Listen to me!”
He stopped pacing and looked at the Governor, who indicated that he sit down. As he did, the Governor passed him a mug and continued.
“It was inevitable. The same thing happened out in Stellar 4 about 20 years ago. Supply and demand reached equilibrium, everyone cut costs as much as possible and then one of the more unscrupulous governors seized all the workers in the dead of night and rolled them back into the camps.”
“But why?”
“Imperial supply contracts are worth a fortune, you know that. Also, things have a habit of getting out of hand in the provinces.”
“So what happened then? Did the others make a complaint?”
“There is nothing in the Imperial Charter against commoditising the labour force. The others just had to follow suit. Luckily the cost of shipping the stuff all the way from Stellar 4 to here is still so high that we didn’t have to go down the same road.”
“Commoditising the labour force?! Call it what it is, for heaven’s sake. The Gulag! Imperial Slavery! Thank God we’re free here.”
“Are we?”
He turned to look at Sandie, sitting at the end of the conference table. She was at a keyboard but conspicuously not taking notes.
“Are we, Danny? Uncle Herc could dissolve the assembly any time he likes. Declare a state of emergency, conscript the work force. He’s even chosen the next governor…”
He turned back to Hercules. “You can’t be serious? You can’t be suggesting that we drop to their level?”
“We won’t be enslaving anyone. Conscription of the specialists, pull them into barracks, reduce costs to the minimum and set aside the wage offsets for pension provision. Then grab prisoners to do the donkey work…”
“Labour without pay, Governor!”
“We’ve got it all worked out. We can make it happen for roughly 17% without…”
Danny glared at Sandie, “All worked out? When did you tell him?” She blushed and looked down at her keyboard. “No wonder I couldn’t get an appointment ’til this afternoon. Is this the way things are going to be run around here from now on? Claremont family values? You may as well just take his name, Sandie, and have done.” He looked back at the Governor. “LaMarque doesn’t work this way!”
“LaMarque will not be told! This subject is embargoed! Be quiet and listen to me! We have worked hard to create a more equitable society. We are one of the few places to have elections and welfare and free schools and healthcare. We like to kid ourselves that our agriculture and industries pay for it but the uranium dividends keep the whole ship afloat. The welfare concerns of some prisoners and a few specialists come second to the security and lives of half a billion LaMarquois citizens.”
Danny stood and fixed the Governor with an unwavering stare.
“You’re wrong Hercules, and I think the people will agree with me.”
Danny turned and as he slammed the door on the way out he heard the Governor speak again.
“Go after him, Sandie. See he doesn’t do anything stupid.”
“He’s wrong Sandie, he’s just plain wrong.”
The second glass of whisky always felt more mellow than the first, he remembered, as he reached for the third.
“I’ve never seen you like this, Danny. You’re not going to throw it all away are you? We’re still kicking around the ideas for the response.”
“Yeah, without me all of a sudden. He knew I’d react like this.” His eyes narrowed. “You knew I’d react like this.”
“You’re leaving for Central in a few days and he thinks you should be tying things up – not wading into new stuff.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it. I love you but it seems you can be a bitch sometimes.”
“Fuck you Danny Parque! Pull yourself together.”
She slapped the fourth whisky out of his hand and the glass smashed against the wall, the liquid staining the paper. The barman started forward, swearing under his breath but was placated as Danny held up his hand in apology and placed a twenty on the counter. Sandie continued with as much force but in a quieter voice.
“This is politics. Not everything is ideal. We wade through the shit and try to grow some roses. I think Uncle Herc has done pretty well here. You think that all the freedoms you have came about by your parents’ kind of idealism? Look where it got them.”
Tears pricked.
“That hurts.”
“I’m sorry but think about them. Think about LaMarque. Think about what we have and what we might lose. And then think about whether the world will be better with you as governor or with you as a junior bean counter checking corn prices.”
Danny signalled the barman to bring him another glass.
“I want us to go away for a couple of days, Danny, before you leave. I’ll come by tomorrow evening and pick you up. We’ll go out to the mountains. But you have to get past this. If you still feel this way after you get back from Central, we’ll do something about it then. Okay?”
He looked at his empty glass.
The pounding in Danny’s head became more real by the second, and it dragged him back to consciousness in waves. It morphed into the pounding on his door, which became ever more insistent.
“Please open the door, Mr Parque, or we will be forced to take measures!”
His tongue felt like a moss-covered log in his mouth. He croaked as he tried to sit up, head swimming and nausea spreading through him like a wave breaking inside his head. Instead of forming the words “alright, I’m coming” he puked copiously on the floor.
The banging on the door ceased, resulting in a few moments of blessed relief, before being replaced with thunderous vibrations that he could feel through his bare, vomit covered feet on the floor. At the third blow the lock splintered away, hanging in the frame as the rest of the door crashed inwards. So much for the expensive, antique mahogany. Two men in helmets with a battering ram stood aside and two more with large, business-like assault rifles entered and, seeing Danny sprawled half on the bed, half on the floor in the lake of vomit, smiled and took up positions either side of him, lowering their weapons.
“The target’s been neutralised, sir!”
A man in a trenchcoat peered round the door frame before stepping through. He blanched as the smell of Danny’s disgrace hit him, fumbling in his pocket for a handkerchief. He spoke through it as he held it over his face, “Shit a brick, sergeant, can’t we open a window?”
“Yes, sir.”
The larger man slung his rifle over his and shoulder strolled over to the window, while trenchcoat turned back to Danny.
“Danniter Parque?”
A nod was still all he could manage.
“Mr Parque, I’m Inspector Ytterby of the Verzail Metro Police. The Government Security Office has asked us to detain you…” he consulted his notebook, “on suspicion of incitement, sedition, insurgency, yada, yada, yada, terrorism act blah… You’re really not paying any attention, are you?”
Danny shook his head.
“Fremand, please get the Governor’s Assistant a glass of water. Better make it a large one.”
As Danny sipped it, Ytterby spoke again, “I’ll keep it simple for you, Mr Parque. You’re under arrest for sending classified documents to the LaMarque Daily Post. Now go and have a cold shower while we help ourselves to your stuff. Then we can have a nice trip down to the station.”
And so, after interminable interrogations, here he was, chained to a chair in the GSO prison, looking at this large man opposite.
Kepler pushed a sheaf of printouts across the table and spread them out.
“These are the documents you sent?”
“Looks like it.”
“All of them? Please be sure.”
Danny cast his eye over them. Eight pages of statements and evidence with the supporting figures. LaMarque’s plan to return to barbarism, all with the Governor’s seal at the top.
“Yes, that’s all of them. Did the Post ever get them?”
“No, they were filtered out as they left your server. It seems someone in the administration expected you to do it.”
“Who?”
“The same person who pulled the missing LIO report, I should imagine. It doesn’t really matter.”
Kepler began packing all the papers back into the folder.
“That’s it? We’re done?”
“I believe you Mr Parque. I’ll be checking the audio transcripts later for lies but everything you said makes sense and matches the files. I’m ready to make my recommendation now.”
Danny’s heart fell.
“You’re not here to help me then.”
“Danny, I have helped you more than you think.”
“Who are you?”
“Guards!”
“Kepler, tell me!”
The big man got up and put on his jacket. As the guards opened the door he spoke again.
“You’re a rare man, Danny. I hope things work out for you.”
Danny could still hear him when he went into the corridor.
“You can change his status to ‘awaiting conviction’.”
The guards swaggered into the room, grinning. The time had finally arrived. They drew their stun-batons and advanced towards him.
Chapter 4
With cuffs on his wrists, Danny was dragged into the bright light of a high, vaulted chamber. The diameter of the circular room was significantly smaller than its height, giving the incongruous impression of a glass-domed silo. Long flags hung from the distant ceiling and, after plunging like a waterfall, curled behind a throne-like chair and ornate desk on a dais. One flag for the Empire, the other the blue of LaMarque, both picked out with the orange glow of light from a sinking sun. Or was it rising? He had no idea; he had not seen daylight since his arrest, whenever that was.
A quiet gasp and muttered whisperings broke the silence that greeted his entrance. His appearance, limping in an orange jumpsuit with clear marks of beatings on his face, had clearly shocked someone but as his eyes were still getting used to the light he could not see who. Having pushed him into a circular cage in the middle of the room, the guards removed his cuffs. At desks either side of the secure dock sat uniformed military officers and as the guards locked the cage he was able to turn and look behind. The public gallery was empty apart from just two figures – Sandie and the Governor. Sandie was looking at the floor and the Governor wore an expression of bleakness he had not seen before.
“Mr Parque?”
The officer from the table on his left approached the cage.
“I’m Lieutenant Foxon. I’m your lawyer.”
“Oh really? Well it’s nice to meet you at last.”
Foxon ignored the sarcasm.
“I was handed your file yesterday and I must say I’m worried.”
“Worried? How bad can it possibly be?”
“Well, Kepler’s report was fairly positive and he said he agreed with the Governor’s recommendation for leniency. So, I suppose, as long as the judge isn’t out to make a point, you could be alive tomorrow.”
Danny felt cold. “What the hell kind of court is this?”
“Security tribunal. Special order under the terrorism act – no public, no due process. Once the GSO gets its claws into you, even the Governor’s influence becomes very limited – can’t be seen to be interfering with security matters. You’re just lucky that Kepler took an interest.”
“Who is he?”
“Senior investigator at the Viceroy’s Security Office on Stellar 2PP. All GSOs have to send their files there for review. Yours will have stood out because it’s so rare to have a 16A attached.”
“16A?”
“Governor’s appeal for clemency. Personally, I’ve never seen one before.”
“Hang on, how many cases are there?”
“LaMarque’s pretty quiet compared to most. 30 or 40 a week. You’re an official – don’t you know this?”
“GSO is just a dozen cranks in an office…”
Foxon shook his head, “The whole prison you were held in was a GSO facility.”
“Oh God, no…”
A door at the far side of the room opened and a marine sergeant entered.
“Attention on deck! The LaMarque Security Tribunal, as constituted under the permanent emergency regulations of the 4th Terrorism Act is now in session. Commodore Clifton Grant is the presiding officer. Stand to!”
The officers either side of Danny stood to attention as the commodore strode into the room with a sheaf of papers under his arm. He saluted the flags before climbing up behind the desk and taking off his cap.
“Be seated gentlemen.”
The commodore’s eyes were bloodshot and his face a little pale. Before doing anything else, he poured a glass of water from the large jug on the desk and dropped in a couple of ice-cubes from a lidded, silver bucket. Adding two effervescent tablets, he stirred it all around with a teaspoon as he began to flick through the papers. Clearing his throat, he frowned and put his hand to his forehead in apparent discomfort. He drank down the fizzing water in one go and, after failing to entirely stifle a belch, finally addressed the prosecuting officer.
“Why are we holding this case outside of normal sittings? I really have better things to do at this time of day.”
The officer to the right stood up. “Local government request, sir.”
“Oh, not another bleeding heart official interfering in…”
The standing officer cleared his throat loudly. The commodore glanced sharply up at him and then across at public gallery.
“Ah, Governor Claremont. You’re today’s bleeding heart official are you?”
Shocked, Danny looked around but the Governor was just looking, stony-faced, at the commodore.
“Captain Grant. I do have a close interest in this case, yes, as the defendant was in my private office. I thought it would be more efficient for me to attend early morning rather than disrupt the daily working of Government House.”
The use of Grant’s substantive rather than honorary rank was clearly designed as a retaliatory barb and Danny’s blood ran cold at the idea of annoying this man – who he was beginning to understand had the true power of life and death on LaMarque. However, Grant just poured himself some more water and returned to scanning the papers in front of him. A certainty formed in Danny’s mind that everyone in the room was reprising a part he had played many times.
The commodore sighed, put the papers down and, closing his eyes, placed his fingers on his temples, rubbing gently.
“Lieutenant Mills, please summarise this for me.”
“Aye aye, sir. The defendant, in his privileged role as Principle Private Secretary to the Governor, disagreed with a policy proposal and sought to foment a violent popular uprising by disseminating a skewed and misleading version of it to the LaMarque media.”
“This is ridiculous!” Danny could not contain himself any longer and grabbed hold of the bars in front of him. The shock from their electrification threw him back on the floor and, just above the rushing in his ears, he could hear the commodore speaking.
“Let’s have no further outbursts like that, Mr Parque. The noise went right through my head. It would be unfortunate if we had to do something to calm you down.”
Danny slowly got to his feet.
“Lieutenant Foxon, did the defendant send the documents in question?”
“He freely admitted it during non-coercive questioning, sir.”
“Was he aware that the policy was classified?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Mr Parque, you stand convicted by your own testimony.”
“I didn’t know it was testimony! Also, he planned to turn prisoners into slaves – the people had a right to know. Don’t you care about that?”
“The content of the policy was irrelevant. Governor Claremont, do you see what keeps happening when you fill your people’s heads with the idea that they are some kind of citizen with rights?”
The commodore took a few deep breaths for a moment, looking even paler after raising his voice at the Governor. He turned his attention back to Danny and spoke in a quiet, measured tone.
“Okay, Mr Parque, maybe it was misguided idealism. The Governor has also made an eloquent plea on your behalf, saying you are a loyal subject and acted with no sense of malice towards the Government. Let’s assume for a moment that you acted to protect your people. Lieutenant Foxon, do we have any evidence to support this?”
“Yes sir, I refer you to the Viceregal Investigator’s report in appendix K.”
The commodore started shuffling through his papers, frustration spreading on his face. He picked up his water instead.
“Remind me of his findings, will you?”
“Investigator Kepler reported that there was no evidence linking the defendant to any terrorist group, such as Free LaMarque, nor that he wanted to overthrow the Government. He believes the motivation was purely to forestall one policy. As such, he supports Governor Claremont’s call for leniency.”
The commodore leaned back in his chair, put his fingers on his lips and looked up at the huge Imperial coat of arms that hung over all their heads on the back wall. He closed his eyes and remained motionless, with the room in absolute silence. With the spectre of death hanging over him, Danny became aware of everything. A faint whiff of cologne, distant overhead sonic booms as freighters and passenger ships breached the upper atmosphere on their way to or from orbit, his hand prints in the thin film of grease and dust on the bars in front of him, the faintly nasal wheezing of Lieutenant Foxon’s breathing and the even fainter sound of warbling from the pigeons and beautiful, white mullians perched on the open vents around the base of the glass dome overhead. They peered down as the only free witnesses to the drama below.
Danny wondered if the commodore had fallen asleep. The man was either hungover or sick and, although this was a significant event in Danny’s life, he got the impression that Grant could sign half a dozen death warrants before heading out for a very good dinner. Finally, he stirred. His tone of voice had switched into a kind of officiousness that suggested he was making a pronouncement. This was reinforced as the court secretary paid renewed attention and started tapping on his keyboard.
“Mr Parque, this tribunal accepts you were probably ignorant of the potential consequences of your actions and your misguided motives were based on objection to a single policy rather than the Government in general. However, in carrying out those actions you risked the lives of the whole population and the future of this world. The Emperor cannot and will not tolerate any form of insurrection, particularly on the streets of somewhere like LaMarque. Protests would have to be crushed and seen to be crushed. Whoever it was in the administration that stopped your leak and referred your case to the GSO has done a great service to protect the lives and privileges of your fellow LaMarquois.”
Danny felt fear and frustration as the commodore paused to take another sip of water before continuing. His fate hung upon the next words out this man’s mouth.
“As your primary motivation was not insurrection I will forgo the death penalty and instead impose a term of 30 years’ military punishment service. In light of the Governor’s calls for clemency I am willing to order that the service shall be in the Imperial Navy, although I will recommend a posting well away from Stellar 2.”
The prosecution lawyer leapt to his feet.
“Sir! I object. The defendant has been convicted of leaking sensitive information. To put him in a naval position where he will have access to sensitive material is unwise. The prosecution strongly recommends that he be put in an infantry unit…”
The commodore frowned.
“Enough Lieutenant Mills. Weren’t you listening to my summing up? I believe this indiscretion…”
He stopped talking and looked at the Governor for a long moment before nodding.
“… was an isolated case. Take him down.”
The guards appeared again behind his cage. He felt the rage of injustice and wanted to scream, but his instincts told him that the now departing Grant could easily return and make things worse. As they dragged him past the gallery the Governor stepped forward to the barrier.
“Wait, please.”
The guards stopped and turned Danny to face Claremont. They stepped back a little.
“I’m so sorry this has happened, Danny.”
“Surely you did this!”
“I really didn’t. I wouldn’t.”
“Of course you did! You found out about me and Sandie. This is some kind of revenge for touching your precious niece.”
“No! I hoped you two would get together. To bring you into the family. I was delighted…”
“Then surely you can stop this!”
“No. The Emperor is not as remote as he seems. The GSO are his ears and the Navy are his hands. Governors are just administrators.”
“You lied to me, to us all.”
“You’d have learned how it all works at Central.”
“Sandie, did you know all this?”
She looked forlorn and distant. She snapped her focus and looked up at Danny for a moment. She shook her head, “No, really, I never knew things could get like this.”
The guards began to tug at Danny’s arm.
“I love you Sandie, I’m going to fight this, I’m going to come back.”
She looked down, nodded her head and whispered “I love you too.”
The guards’ tug became more insistent.
“Why have you done this to me, Hercules? We could have talked.”
“You have to believe me, I didn’t. I’ve helped you.”
He walked along the gallery to keep pace with the guards dragging their prisoner.
“Big help! 30 years fucking service!”
“It’s not the army! The Navy may be dangerous but at least you’re likely to live through it.”
As he was finally dragged through the door Danny shouted “I’ll never forgive you for this.”
He heard the Governor’s reply as the door closed, “I know, Danny. I know.”
Chapter 5
Danny pressed hisforehead against the cold glass of the porthole. He was finally starting to get a hold over his zero-G sickness, but the cool pressure on his brow still felt soothing. The bright blue of the gas giant they were orbiting filled the window but he could see large white clouds scudding along far below. He imagined himself flying amongst them, the incredible cold of this gas and liquid world running through his body, quenching his sickness and numbing his soul.
The time between sentencing and joining the ship had passed in a whirl of shouting and kicking and jumping and running and testing and flying and vomiting. Basic training in the 7th Navy – where ‘basic’ presumably referred to his living conditions and ‘training’ to all the shouting. It began with incarceration in a local military camp while he awaited transfer. The commandant there didn’t believe in wasting time. Danny and all the other puniserves sweated and wheezed around the assault courses again and again. Most of them were destined for the army, to die on an insignificant chunk of rock somewhere so, when the instructors found out he was bound for the navy, they started referring to him as the ‘sky-pansy’. This struck a chord with his fellow ‘recruits’ who needed someone to kick in revenge for their lost existence. Danny was under strict instructions not to reveal his identity and, despite his fame, no one recognised him. Presumably because of his recently shaved head. However, somehow it got round that he was a government official and, as the threats and violence against him increased, the commandant was forced to place him in isolation. So, bizarrely, when time finally came for him to leave LaMarque, it was a relief to go. As the atmosphere was left behind and the first qualms of zero-G sickness started crawling through his body, he felt empty and spent.
It took several weeks to get to Stellar 7, crawling from rip-point to rip-point, their speed in between limited by the human body’s tolerance of the forces the engines would exert upon it. They sailed across an ocean of stars, far away from the tiny universe of anyone who cared if he was alive. In defiance of all his recent indignities, it was distance that finally dehumanised him.
And so this newly forged asset of the Empire had been deposited at the 7th Navy’s orbital training facility at Crongeta. There he had been taught to don a spacesuit in less than 10 seconds and to live in variable gravity. He had been taught the myriad and complex rules of rank and protocol, how to strip and service a CO2 scrubber and the correct way to fill in a PW-X350 (water requisition) form. In short, he learned how to survive, live and work in the Emperor’s navy.
The hatch opened behind him and, looking over his shoulder, he saw four of his fellow spacers drift into the room. With the ease of long experience, each used the hatchway to angle his flight path directly on to his own bunk and Danny felt relief that today they chose to ignore his presence. Chatting quietly amongst themselves, the absence of the words ‘puny’, ‘noob’ or any one of a dozen derogatory terms meant they were not discussing him. He turned back to peering out of the porthole, just like the ‘noob’ he was.
The hostility, diluted at the training facility amongst all the new volunteer recruits, returned when he boarded the Galista Star, a mainline battle cruiser attached to the second fleet. In the crew of over 400 he should have been fairly anonymous but the stylised lion-in-shackles patch he was obliged to wear on his breast meant he was easily seen as a puniserve, or ‘puny’, as he was rapidly learning to answer to. He and the other recruits left the airlock and floated into the main shaft where a stream of spacers were flashing past. Floating up and down the ship in what looked like a large chimney, they occasionally touched the ladder rungs to make small corrections to their paths. One or two were forced to make more serious alterations to avoid colliding with the knot of six noobs clustering around the hatch, hanging on to the handles like a group of school boys regretting their climb to the top of the high dive board. A stream of invective was aimed at them, suggesting colourful scenarios involving several different relatives.
“Where do you think admin is?” asked the recruit who looked seventeen. Hell, they all looked seventeen.
Danny looked up and down the shaft. It was wide enough for about five abreast and had a series of large, open pressure doors, poised to divide the tube into airtight pockets should the hull be breached. There were hatches on all sides of the tube and Danny noticed that the first two digits on the doors increased in the direction that he remembered as being the stern.
“Wasn’t there a compartment number on our orders?” He looked at the spotty kid who had their travel passes. The lad read off the number and after several false starts they joined the human stream and ineptly swam off in search of the administration office.
The ship rotated with a slow tumble that the watch officer had not bothered to correct and now some of the other vessels in the fleet came into view through the porthole. The 2ndFleet of the 7thImperial Navy, carrying out an operational orbital refuel. The larger ships needed certain isotopes for their fusion reactors and the hydrogen-helium-rich ball of gas below, the imaginatively titled Planet S7-0426-D, had a high proportion of them. In the upper reaches of the atmosphere, specially designed scoop-skimmer craft sucked in and compressed the hydrogen before returning to orbit with their full bellies. Danny could see one of them now, docking with either the carrier or one of the battleships, he couldn’t make out which from this angle. Those three vessels were each large enough to contain the processing facilities and complex gas centrifuges needed to separate out the pure fuel. This was then transferred to the cruisers and frigates. The smaller destroyers ran on old-fashioned uranium fission reactors and would not need refuelling for many years. Another few hours at this watering hole and they would be off again.
As the group of recruits entered the administration office, a small, round-faced petty officer strapped into a chair behind one of the desks picked up a phone and after a moment said, “Admin office, sir. The recruits are here.”
As he put the receiver down his eyes wandered to Danny as the odd-one-out and, looking at his lion patch, he grinned.
“First loot’s gonna love you.”
Danny shrugged his shoulders, but as the petty officer continued to look at him he stiffened and said, “Aye aye, sir,” which, of course, could mean anything at all.
He was rewarded with a laugh for that. “A diplomat as well! Okay you lot, the first lieutenant is in charge of manpower so he has to see you now, but don’t go thinking this means he gives a shit about you. Give me your paybooks.”
The recruits handed him the large datasticks that contained all their vital information and complete naval records. He plugged each in turn into the dataport on his computer to synchronise with the ship’s personnel files. As he did the last one, he barked, “Attention on deck!”
The recruits stiffened where they were floating and the first lieutenant kicked across the office to the hatch on the far side before turning to look at them.
“I’ll have them one at a time, Petty Officer Chowdhury.” He pointed at Danny. “Make sure he’s last.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
The recruits hung around in uncomfortable silence as one by one they went in for a short interview before emerging and receiving bunking instructions from Chowdhury. He updated their paybook with whatever jobs the first lieutenant had allocated to them and handed them back, dismissing them to their new lives. When the penultimate one went in, Danny was left alone with the petty officer.
“He thinks his shit doesn’t stink.”
Startled, Danny looked at him. “Excuse me?”
“Excuse me, sir. The first lieutenant. He’s an aristocrat. Already a Baronet; heir to an Earldom or something. Anyway, point is that he thinks commoners should know their place and punies are just contemptible scum. Watch out, is all – he’ll be gunning for you.”
“So, if he thinks like that, how did I even get selected from the pool?”
“The Old Man will have gone over his head. Partly because he needs a new assistant secretary and values experience over background but mostly just to piss off the loot.”
“So, I’ll be the captain’s secretary?”
Chowdhury laughed again. It seemed to froth out of him. “Captain’s secretary is a prestigious position. No. You’ll be the one doing all the work.”
They broke off as the remaining recruit emerged from the inner office. Chowdhury plugged the man’s paybook into the console. “Well, Taylor, what did you get?”
“For’ard main battery, sir. Gunner’s mate, 3rd class.”
As the petty officer typed he muttered, partly to himself, “Hmmm, lot of changes in that battery since the Yak went crazy. First loot will have wanted to break up his old crew, make sure nothing festers. Well, there you go GM3. Welcome to your new career.”
As the recruit departed, Danny made ready to go in but Chowdhury waved his hand in a negative gesture. “Don’t get excited. He’s gonna make you wait. Do some messaging with his cronies in the fleet or have a coffee or something. Anyway, I’ll have the honour of your company for at least another five minutes.”
Danny jumped as an alarm sounded but Chowdhury seemed unruffled. A voice replaced the siren. “Attention on deck! Gravity warning. 1G aft in 10 seconds. Repeat gravity aft in 10 seconds.”
Danny kicked himself backwards off the desk so that he could thump into the bulkhead. Grabbing on to the handholds he pulled himself down to the deck about half a metre below, which would become the floor when the engines were ignited and the ship began to accelerate. Chowdhury smiled at his antics and nodded slowly.
As the heavy feel of pseudo-gravity pulled them down, the petty officer unclipped his harness and leaned forward on the chair, stretching his back and rotating his arms.
“Mmmm, thank the gods for that.” After some more armchair stretching he tapped away again at the keyboard and peered at the screen. “I can see why the old man snapped you up. Seasoned administrator, former private secretary. He’ll never have to do a piece of paperwork again with you around. He knows that the first loot won’t swipe you for the admin office too.”
“So, the first lieutenant doesn’t like the captain either?”
“Old Man came from the skin-bunks, just like you and me. Got his commission by competence, bravery and hard work. Everything posh-boy’s never had to bother with. So, the captain gives more of a toss about whether you do your job right.”
There was a shout from the inner office, “Send him in!”
The petty officer grinned at him again and winked. “In you go then, Danny-boy. Have fun!”
“You’re going to lose the bean-race aren’t you?”
Danny jerked round to see one of the men hovering over him while the others peered over from their bunks.
“It has been made very clear to me I should if I don’t want to have an accident in a malfunctioning airlock.”
