The Outcast
The Empire’s Corps – Book V

Series Listing

Book One: The Empire’s Corps
Book Two: No Worse Enemy
Book Three: When The Bough Breaks
Book Four: Semper Fi
Book Five: The Outcast

Christopher G. Nuttall

http://www.chrishanger.net
http://chrishanger.wordpress.com/
http://www.facebook.com/ChristopherGNuttall

All Comments Welcome!

Cover Blurb

A new novel set in the universe of The Empire’s Corps!

When Sameena’s brother accidentally annoys a religious leader on her homeworld, her entire family is targeted for elimination.  Forced to flee to save her life, Sameena stows away on a trader starship and is eventually welcomed into the crew, embracing their very different culture and making a new life for herself amongst the stars.  

But the Galactic Empire is starting the final descent into chaos and her new home is on the verge of collapse, while secretive forces are manoeuvring to take advantage of the Empire’s collapse.  If Sameena cannot find a way to keep some small part of civilisation intact, the galaxy will crash into a new dark age that will last far longer than a thousand years.

Dear Readers

When I first started to outline the series that would become The Empire’s Corps, I intended to alternate mainstream books – stories following the characters on Avalon – with stand-alone books set somewhere else within the collapsing Empire.  When The Bough Breaks was set on Earth, but still followed the Terran Marines.  The Outcast follows a character who is not a Marine and the Marines themselves are barely mentioned.  However, she will be very important as the ruins of the Empire give way to successor states and interstellar war.

I hope this meets with your approval.  Please feel free to post your opinions on my website discussion board or facebook page (links above.)  And if you liked the story, please don’t hesitate to write a review.

It is my intention to write Book VI in two months, which is provisionally titled To The Shores (a snippet, under the title Marching Through Hell, is on my blog) and will return to Avalon, then look in on Belinda and Roland in Book VII.  

Chronologically speaking, part one of The Outcast starts four years prior to The Empire’s Corps and the epilogue takes place a few months after Semper Fi.

As always, if you spot any spelling errors and suchlike, drop me a line.  I offer cameos!

Thank you for your attention.

Christopher G. Nuttall

Dedication

There are hundreds of thousands (perhaps many more) people trapped in bad situations, from a troubled marriage to a repressive state or religion that refuses to allow them their freedom.  And yet sometimes the oppression can feel safer than trying to escape, without quite knowing what might be waiting for you ...

This book is dedicated to those who have the courage to escape. 

Prologue

From: The Rise of the Trader Queen.  Professor Leo Caesius.  Avalon Publishing.  49PE (Post-Empire).

When did the Galactic Empire fall?

It seems an absurd question.  A cursory glance at a history book will reveal the dates that Earth was destroyed, the Sirius Sector declared independence, the war between Hecate and Heartland began and a thousand other events that formed part of the final collapse of the Empire.  But when did the Empire actually die?  At what point did the fall become unavoidable?  

I think it truly became unavoidable when the economy started to collapse.

The empire was held together by a combination of military force and economic ties.  Together, they held thousands of worlds in a common union.  But the former was wearing away and the latter was being destroyed by the Grand Senate.  The economy was being strangled at precisely the moment it needed to breath.  In short, the Grand Senate was not only robbing Peter to pay Paul, it was also eating its own seed corn.  

This was disastrous.  As imperial taxes grew ever-higher, more and more freighters and interstellar shipping companies were forced out of business – or became smugglers.  Entire planetary systems and even sectors started opting out of the Empire’s economic network, forming their own units that existed in isolation.  Indeed, as the big corporations started to lose their profits, they pulled out and abandoned hundreds of planets to their own devices.  

Chaos spread across the Rim.  Pirates went on the rampage, attacking trading starships and entire planets.  HE3 supplies started to run out, forcing planets to revert to an earlier stage of technological development if they couldn't build their own cloudscoops.  Isolated colonies fell completely off the trade routes, such as they were; entire planets died out because they could no longer maintain their life support systems ... the end of history seemed at hand.

But this also offered opportunities for those who were prepared to think outside the stifling centralised control of the Empire.  

One such person was Sameena Hussein.

Or, as she became known, the Trader Queen.

Chapter One

A very famous philosopher once referred to the study of economics as the ‘Voodoo Sciences,’ suggesting – in effect – that there was no true science behind economics.  Human experience tends to agree.  All attempts to devise a science for economics have failed.
- Professor Leo Caesius.  The Science That Isn’t: Economics and the Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire.  

“Good work, Sameena.”

Sameena beamed with pride at her father’s words.  It was unusual for a girl to receive any formal education on Jannah, let alone be granted the chance to use it, but her father had recognised her talent from a very early age.  The family business would be passed down to her brother Abdul – a girl running a business was unheard of – yet he’d already promised her that she could continue to work behind the scenes.  Her brother had no talent for business and knew it.

“Thank you, father,” she said, as she looked down at the figures.  Honestly, they weren't very complicated at all.  “I could do the next set right now.”

Her father made a show of stroking his beard in contemplation, then shook his head.  “Your mother will want help in the kitchen,” he reminded her dryly.  “Or we will have no food tonight.”

Sameena rolled her eyes.  “I burn water, father,” she said, hoping that he would change his mind.  “You should put Abdul in the kitchen.”

Her father’s eyes twinkled with amusement.  The only male cooks on the planet were the ones who cooked in the mosques, feeding the men who travelled from town to town spreading the word of Islam.  It was unlikely, to say the least, that Abdul would ever join them.  He was simply too fond of games to take up a career in the mosque.  

“Cheeky brat,” he said.  He reached out and patted her on the head.  “Go help your mother while I check the figures.  You can do more sums tonight.”

Sameena stood up and bowed, then walked out of her father’s study and down towards the kitchen, where the smell of cooked meat was already starting to waft through the house.  Her mother was a wonderful cook, she knew, but Sameena knew that she had no talent for cooking.  In her fanciful moments, she wondered if she had inherited the gene for trading from her father, rather than the gene for cooking she should have had.  Most of her friends saw nothing wrong with spending most of their time in the kitchen.

She stopped in front of the kitchen door and hesitated, catching sight of her own reflection in the mirror her mother had hung on the door.  A dark-skinned face looked back at her, surrounded by long dark hair that fell down over her shoulders.  She looked almost mannish, her mother had said, apart from her hair.  The doctor they’d taken her to had said that she was simply a late developer.  Shaking her head, Sameena pulled her hair into a ponytail and pushed open the door to the kitchen.  Her mother was standing in front of the stove, boiling a piece of beef in a large pan.

“There you are,” her mother said, crossly.  A strict traditionalist, her mother had little time for the work she did with her father.  Only the tradition of female obedience had stopped her from making more of a fuss.  “Go wash the pots and pans.”

Sameena sighed.  “Yes, mother,” she said, as she walked over to the sink.  As always, her mother seemed to have gone out of her way to use as many different pans and utensils as possible.  “Why don’t you get Abdul to do it?”

Her mother gave her a sharp look.  “Because he is at study,” she said, sharply.  It was her latest scheme to make something of her son and she’d nagged her husband until he'd agreed to pay for it.  “And because men don’t work in the kitchen.”

It hardly seemed fair to Sameena.  She was better at maths than her brother, better at reading ... why did she have to get married and spend her life in the kitchen?  If her father had wanted to marry her off, he could have done so from the moment she’d become a woman.  She’d been lucky.  Some of her girlfriends had already been married, or had been practically chained to the kitchen inside their houses, permanently supervised by their mothers.  But why was it that way?  

She pushed the thought aside and started to work on the pots and pans.  Her mother kept adding to the pile, or scooping up items she’d washed and using them again, forcing Sameena to wash them again and again.  She just wanted to walk away, but there was no point in leaving.  Her mother would be angry and her father would be disappointed in her.  Where could she go if she left?

“Take this out to the dining room,” her mother ordered.  “And then come straight back.”

Sameena took the dish of curry gratefully and carried it out of the kitchen, down towards the dining room.  It was the largest room in the house; her father used it to entertain his business partners or the bureaucrats from Abdullah every few weeks.  Sameena had been allowed to listen to some of the discussions – although she hadn't been allowed to speak – and she’d learned more about how the world worked than she'd learned from her mother, or the tutor her father had hired for her education.  They hadn't bothered to conceal anything from her.

Her father was already sitting on the floor.  “Put it down there,” he ordered, tiredly.  “And then you ...”

There was a crash as someone opened the front door.  Sameena looked up to see Abdul as he stepped into the room, grinning from ear to ear.  Her brother was handsome, some of her girlfriends had said, but Sameena didn't see it herself.  But then, he’d been two years old when she’d been born and they’d practically grown up together.  She’d been very lucky in her brother as well.

“You’re late,” her father said, sternly.  

“I had to talk to the teacher,” Abdul said.  He was still grinning.  “Can you believe that he got something wrong?”

Their father stared at him.  “... What?”

“The teacher, the one who came all the way from Abdullah,” Abdul said.  “He was basing his arguments on a discredited hadith, so I had to tell him ...”

Sameena looked at her father and saw the blood draining from his face.  “What did you tell him ...?”

Abdul dropped into classical Arabic and started to explain.  Sameena scowled at him – girls were not encouraged to learn classical Arabic and she could barely follow one word in ten – before looking at their father.  He’d gone very pale.  

“You utter idiot,” he said, when Abdul had finished.  “You ... you’ve ruined us all!”

“But I was right,” Abdul protested.  “I ...”

“Fool of a boy,” their father thundered.  “Do you really think that matters?”

He started to pace around the room.  “He will have complained about you to the Guardians of Public Morality,” he snapped.  “You will come to their attention.  And anyone who comes to their attention is lost forever.”

Abruptly, he turned and headed towards the door.  “Eat your dinner, then stay in your room,” he ordered.  “And don’t talk about it with your mother.”  

His gaze moved to Sameena.  “You too,” he added.  “Don’t talk to your mother about anything.”

Sameena watched him leave, unable to suppress the nervous feeling in her chest.  She’d seen the Guardians of Public Morality – dark men in dark robes, carrying staffs – from a distance, but she’d never spoken to one.  And yet she’d heard the rumours of what they did to people who stepped too far outside the lines drawn for Jannah’s population.  Those who came to their attention always regretted it.

She would have asked Abdul, but their mother bustled just after their father left and started putting the rice and bread down on the mat.  Instead, she ate and worried.

***
Two days passed before her father returned to the house.  He must have said something to her mother, Sameena had decided, if only because she didn't seem worried by his absence.  But then, he'd often had to make business trips, either to Abdullah or to the spaceport out in the desert.  Having to leave at short notice wasn't uncommon.  Even so, she couldn't help worrying about what was going on.  Abdul hadn't been very talkative and had spent most of his time in his room.

Sameena was sitting in her room, reading a book, when her father opened the door and came inside.  As master of the house, he could go anywhere without bothering to ask permission, but he normally respected her private space and knocked before entering her room.  It was so out of character for him to barge inside that she almost panicked.  Just what was going on?

“I have arranged for you to marry,” her father said, without preamble.  The look in his eyes chilled her to the bone.  “You will marry Judge Al-Haran and ...”

Sameena gaped at him.  “Father,” she protested.  “He’s married!  He has two wives!”

“You will be his third,” her father said.  He put a small purse of gold coins on her bedside table.  “He has agreed to take you.  It is a very great honour.”

Sameena felt her world crashing down around her.  She had known that she would be married, sooner or later; it was very rare for a woman to remain unmarried past her late teens.  Even those whose morals had been called into question were married off; they just had to become second or third wives.  But she ...

Her father had promised her – promised her – that she wouldn't be married off unless she approved of the groom.  And her brother, who would become her guardian if her father died before she married, had made her the same promise.  She’d trusted them – and yet now they were selling her off to the highest bidder.  How could she be a third wife?  She’d heard the older women chatting, when they thought their children couldn't hear, and she knew what it would be like.  The third wife was a slave, in all but name.  She would be bullied by the senior wives as well as her husband.

And she’d met the Judge, once.  He hadn't impressed her.

“Father,” she said, gathering herself as best as she could, “I will not marry the Judge.  He’s fifty years old, and smelly, and ...”

Her father slapped her.

Sameena fell backwards, more shocked then hurt.  Her father never hit her.  She’d been slapped by her mother more than once when she’d been disobedient, but her father never hit her – or Abdul.  Her cheek hurt ... she lifted a hand to it and touched her skin, feeling it throbbing in pain.  She’d never been scared of her father before.

But when she met his eyes, she realised that he was scared too.

“Your idiot of a brother has made powerful enemies,” her father said, very quietly.  “I have it on good authority that the Guardians of Public Morality have already been alerted and that they’re just waiting for permission to act.  No matter what bribes I offer, I cannot save my son, or my wife, or myself.  You know how many enemies merchants have on this world.”

Sameena nodded.  Merchants kept the world going, yet the local governments often disapproved of them.  She’d done the sums and knew how much money her father had to pay out in taxes – or bribes – just to keep going.  A charge of disbelief, of unorthodoxy, might be impossible to bury underneath a mass of bribes.   Even their friends might back away if they realised that the fallout might land on them as well. 

And all it took to unleash the Guardians of Public Morality was a brief dispute in a mosque between a young man and a teacher ...

“But I can save you,” her father insisted.  “You’ll go to the Judge, you will become his wife and they won’t be able to touch you.  We can go to his house and he can perform the ceremony ... don’t you understand?  There is nothing he can do to you that is worse than what the Guardians of Public Morality will do, if they get their hands on you.”

Sameena remembered the worst of the rumours and went cold.  How could their lives have turned upside down so quickly?  But there was no point in crying over spilt milk, as her mother had said more than once.  If her father was right, she had no other choice.  There was no one else who would give her the same protection as the Judge ...

A thought struck her.  “But father, given what Uncle Muhammad has been doing for the government ...”

“They won’t take that into account,” her father assured her, grimly.  “He isn't your real Uncle, after all.  If we’re lucky, he won’t be involved at all.”

He tapped the purse of gold.  “You won’t be able to take much with you,” he added.  “But take that – in a few years, maybe you’ll be able to seek an alternate arrangement.  Legally, he has to leave that with you ...”

Sameena shook her head in absolute despair.  Maybe, just maybe, the Judge would grant her a divorce once the whole affair had died down in a year or two.  But if he refused, there was no way that she could find a legal separation.  The law wouldn't be on her side, whatever he did to her.  And he could take her gold and no one would be able to stop him.  

She looked out of the open window towards the darkening sky and shuddered.

“I can't do anything else,” her father said.  “All I can do is make the best arrangements I can for you.  And pray.”

He gave her a hug, then stood up.  “I’ll come back in an hour to take you to the Judge’s house,” he told her.  He sounded almost as through her were pleading.  “Please don’t do anything stupid.”

Sameena felt hot tears prickling at her eyes as he closed the door, leaving her alone.  Her thoughts danced in crazy circles through her head.  How could he do that to her?  But what choice did he have?  Abdul had ruined the whole family and her only hope of escaping the coming dragnet was to surrender to a lecherous old man.  No doubt the Judge had struck a hard bargain.  Everyone thought that merchants were rich, even when they weren't.  

She picked up the purse and counted the coins silently.  Nearly five thousand sultans – and, buried at the bottom of the purse, an Imperial Credit Coin.  There were only a handful on the entire planet; whatever Imperial Law happened to say, Jannah rarely used any currencies apart from its own sultans.  She doubted that she could find someone who would accept the coin, at least outside the spaceport.  Mere possession of the coin would raise suspicions of spiritual contamination by off-worlders.  

There was no formal law against women possessing such sums of money, but it was almost unheard of.  Her dowry would go to the Judge; if he knew that she had the rest of the money with her, he would be within his rights to take it for himself.  All that was hers would become his.  She would have to hide it, somehow.  And then ...

And then what?  She asked herself.  Her life was utterly ruined.  

She heard a dull crash from downstairs.  Worried, she stood up and opened the door very quietly.  A harsh male voice echoed upstairs, demanding that everyone in the house present themselves for arrest and formal interrogation.  Sameena felt her blood run cold as she realised that her father had been too late, after all.  The Guardians of Morality had arrived to take them all into custody.

Her mother started to scream.  There was the unmistakable sound of a scuffle and the screaming cut off, abruptly.  They’d knocked her mother down, she guessed; how long would it be before they searched the house?  She’d heard too many rumours to go gently into their custody, but there was no point in fighting.  Even if she’d known how to fight, there were just too many of them.

She turned and scooped up the purse of coins and stuffed them into her pocket.  At least she’d worn loose trousers rather than a dress; it would have been far harder to escape in one of her dresses, even if her mother did like seeing her in them.  She picked up her headscarf a moment later – she normally didn't wear them in the house – and then slipped over to the window.  Was that footsteps she could hear coming up the stairs?  She couldn't tell, but there was no longer any time to hesitate.  

It had been five years since she’d last scrambled out of her window and climbed down to the garden below, but her hands and feet still remembered where to go.  She was heavier now, she realised, as one of the footholds almost broke under her weight and she slipped, thankfully only a few inches above the ground.  As soon as she touched the ground, she turned and fled into the woods behind her house.  There were no guards outside to catch her before she could escape.  

She and her brother had used to play in the woods and she knew them like the back of her hand.  If the Guardians of Public Morality came after her, they’d have problems ... she hoped.  They’d played hide-and-seek before, but never with adults ... catching her breath, she looked back towards the house.  No one seemed to be coming after her.

But they would, she knew.  Everyone knew that the Guardians of Public Morality never gave up.  Give them a day or two and everyone in the town would know that they wanted Sameena, dead or alive.  No one would shelter her, not even the Judge.  And going to him would mean swapping one kind of captivity and torture for another.

And yet ... where could she go?

A thought occurred to her.  It wasn't something that she would ever have considered before, but what did she have to lose?  And besides, the Guardians of Public Morality would never expect it, not of a girl.  

And if it worked, she would be far outside their reach.

Chapter Two

Humans being what they are, considerable attention is focused on the handful of people who have successfully predicted the future of the stock markets.  Those winners have made vast sums of money.  It is generally ignored, however, that thousands of people have lost money by predicting the future ... unsuccessfully.  The separation between winners and losers is as much a matter of luck as judgement.  They, of course, would not agree.  
- Professor Leo Caesius.  The Science That Isn’t: Economics and the Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire.  

The call to prayer was echoing through the air when she reached the other side of the woods and paused, staring at the house ahead of her.  It belonged to a very religious family, one that had two daughters who had been her friends before their parents had decided that a merchant’s daughter was an unsuitable companion for their children.  They were so religious, Sameena knew, that everyone in the house would make their way to the local mosque for prayers, even the women and servants.  The house would be left empty.

She waited in the woods until she heard the prayers begin, then slipped into their garden and walked over to where the clothes were hanging from the washing line.  The family had a younger son who was about Sameena’s height; she took his shirt and tunic from the line, then found a turban that would cover her hair.  Theft bothered her, but there was no choice, not with the Guardians after her.  They could only kill her once.  

Back in the woods, she pulled the shirt and tunic on, then wrapped up her hair inside the turban.  Wearing clothes belonging to the other sex was asking for a whipping, but most people wouldn't look past the male clothes to see the girl underneath – or so she hoped.  She bundled up her former clothes, glanced down at herself to ensure that she didn't look very feminine, then walked down to the road and headed eastwards, down into the town.

She felt terrifyingly exposed as she walked down the street, catching sight of a handful of Guardians on the other side of the road.  If they caught her ... women were not supposed to go anywhere, anywhere at all, without a male escort.  Sweat was trickling down her back as she walked past the Guardians and headed towards the bus station in town.  Getting caught meant that there would be nowhere left to run.  But no one tried to stop her as she entered the bus station and climbed onto a bus.  Four stops later, she was near the spaceport – and near Uncle Muhammad’s house.  

Uncle Muhammad wasn't really her uncle, at least not in any biological sense.  He had been her father’s partner, once upon a time, before they had separated their businesses and gone their own ways.  Sameena’s father had told her enough for her to realise that he could not be trusted, but there was no other choice.  Besides, it was quite likely that the Guardians would pick him up as well, unless he had enough warning to round up some political support from his allies.  She hesitated, looking at his huge house, then walked forward towards the main entrance.  There was no point in backing out now.

She pushed the bell and waited.  Moments later, Muhammad’s son appeared and peered at her suspiciously.  He’d been mentioned as a potential candidate for Sameena’s hand, she knew; it was quite possible that he would recognise her, despite the flimsy disguise.  But there was no point in concealing herself any longer.  She pulled off the turban, allowing her hair to spill down over her shoulders, and smiled at him.  He looked utterly flabbergasted.

“I need to speak to your father,” she said, before he could say a word.  “Now.”

He must have been shocked, she reflected, as he led her into the house.  Normally, a man would grow stubborn at the mere thought of taking orders from a woman.  She smirked inwardly as they walked down luxurious corridors and past artwork that would probably give the Guardians heart attacks, including several that were rather indecent.  Uncle Muhammad seemed to believe that one should flaunt the wealth one had, despite the Guardians.  So far, his services to the government had been enough to keep him safe.  Sameena hoped that was still true.

“I should fetch my mother,” Muhammad’s son said, as they reached his father’s office.  “I ...”

“No need,” Sameena said.  Her reputation was hardly a concern any longer.  Oddly, the thought made her feel freer than she’d felt ever since she’d realised the difference between male and female.   “I just need to talk to him in private.”

She ignored his doubting look and strode into the office, leaving him outside.  Uncle Muhammad was a tall man, considerably overweight, with a neatly-trimmed beard that tried to give him an air of distinction.  Sameena, who had been raised by a trader, knew better than to take him for granted.  He would keep the letter of any agreement, but would have to be watched carefully to prevent him using any loopholes to his own advantage.  No wonder her father had preferred to separate himself from his former friend.

“Sameena,” Uncle Muhammad said, carefully.  “Why are you here?”

Sameena couldn't blame him for being surprised – and alarmed.  It was almost unheard of for girls to travel on their own, certainly outside the towns ... indeed, it was quite rare for girls to travel at all, no matter what their husbands did.  The Guardians believed that women should remain at home and enforced their beliefs on everyone they could reach.  Her presence here, without her father or brother, spelt trouble.

“The Guardians came for my family,” she said, and outlined what had happened.  “I need your help.”

Uncle Muhammad narrowed his eyes.  “And if they’re prepared to arrest the Judge,” he said, “what makes you think that I can protect you?”

Sameena stared at him.  “They arrested Judge Al-Haran?”

“He was taken away a couple of hours ago,” Uncle Muhammad informed her.  “Your father was evidently unaware of how many enemies he had.  Quite a few of the Guardians thought that he was too merciful to captured criminals.”

His eyes bored into hers.  “And I ask again,” he said.  “What makes you think that I can protect you?”

He was talking to her, Sameena realised numbly, as if she were a man rather than a woman.  It would have pleased her under other circumstances, but right now ... she couldn't help wondering if the religious tutor who’d lectured on a woman’s place in the world had had a point after all.  She would have liked to put the whole matter aside ... angrily, she shook her head.  Denying reality wouldn't make it any less real.  And she could only rely on herself.

“You have connections to off-worlders,” she said, remembering the credit coin her father had given her.  “I want you to get me off the planet.”

Uncle Muhammad’s eyes went very wide.  “You want to go off-world?”

“Yes,” Sameena said.  “Where else can I go?”

He considered it for a long moment.  Sameena knew what he was thinking.  The Guardians would not stop hunting her – and she couldn't live on her own, not as a young woman.  She could hide in Uncle Muhammad’s house, but that couldn't last forever – and besides, she wasn't sure that she would want to stay even if she could.  She certainly couldn’t get married without announcing her identity to the clerics, who would alert the Guardians.

“The alternative would be to ... ah, marry someone without registering it,” Uncle Muhammad said, finally.  “You would be safe and ...”

Sameena felt her blood run cold.  She’d heard about such marriages – and about how they lacked the handful of legal protections offered to registered marriages.  It was effectively prostitution, something she wasn't supposed to know about.  But her brother had always talked too loudly and Sameena had listened carefully.  Knowledge was power.  

“No,” she said, flatly.  “I am not a whore.”

Uncle Muhammad flinched, as if she’d struck him.  “Getting you into space would be risky ...”

Sameena threw caution to the winds.  “So will trying to sell me to a brothel,” she said, sharply.  “I will go to the Guardians and tell them everything, all the details of your trade with the off-worlders, if you refuse to help me now.”

He clenched his fists.  She realised, suddenly, just how easy it would be for him to crush her neck.  They could bury her in the garden and make sure that no one would talk.  Perhaps the Guardians would realise that there was a connection between Uncle Muhammad and Sameena’s father in time, but it would be far too late to help her.

“I also know a few details of my father’s business that you need to know,” she added, lowering her voice.  “They will be yours.”

Uncle Muhammad muttered a word she didn't recognise, then glowered at her.  “What do you want?”

Sameena fought to keep her face expressionless.  “Get me onto a ship leaving the system, with something I can use to support myself,” she said.  She didn't want to admit to having the Credit Coin, not if it could be avoided.  “And then I will be out of your hair for good.”

“And you will tell me what I need to know,” Uncle Muhammad said.  He paused.  “I should warn you that the Guardians patrol the spaceport quite heavily.  You’ll need to be smuggled onboard and that could be risky.”

Sameena surprised herself by smiling.  “I have made it here,” she said.  Few women on her homeworld could have done that, even if it was a bare fifty kilometres from her hometown to the spaceport.  “I understand the risk.”

“I will take you to the library,” Uncle Muhammad said, standing up.  “I’ll give you pen and paper; you will write down everything you know that I might need to know.  In the meantime, I will make the arrangements to get you onto a freighter.  After that, you're on your own.”

He could still betray her, Sameena knew, as he led her down the corridor and into the library.  Or simply kill her outright.  But there was no other choice.  She had to trust that he would do as he had promised.  

“Here,” Uncle Muhammad said, shoving a piece of paper at her.  “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

Sameena watched him go, then looked around the library.  It was crammed with books, ranging from the standard textbooks on Islamic thought to a number of volumes that would thoroughly displease the Guardians, if they found them.  Several of them, she realised, were on off-world science and cultures, a number clearly imported rather than produced on her homeworld.  But that wasn't surprising, she knew.  Her father had told her, more than once, just how many restrictions there were on printing new books.  It could be very hard to gain permission to publish a book.  

She took the piece of paper and wracked her brains, writing down almost everything she could remember that she thought Uncle Muhammad would like.  Her father would be angry, she knew, if he knew ... but he would never be released.  Nor would anyone else in her family ... they’d want to make a horrible example of her brother, just to ensure that no one else dared to question the religious tutors.  Sameena felt tears welling up in her eyes, now that she was somewhere relatively safe.  She wanted to weep for her family.

Uncle Muhammad took almost an hour to return to the library.  When he did, he was accompanied by his third wife, a thin-lipped woman who gave Sameena a stern look that would have promised trouble, if she’d just made a normal visit.  Sameena ignored her and looked directly at Uncle Muhammad, no longer caring to remain demure and downcast.  It wasn't as if she could get in more trouble.  

“I have made some preparations,” he said, shortly.  “You will be transported into a cargo pod that will be shipped into orbit and loaded onto a freighter.  After that, you will be on your own.  I trust that you speak Imperial Standard?”

Sameena nodded, wordlessly.  Her father had insisted that she learn along with her brother, although Imperial Standard wasn't something that women – or men, for that matter – were encouraged to learn.  Talking to off-worlders risked contamination, the Guardians insisted – and besides, there were few opportunities to practice.  But she knew how to speak to the off-worlders if necessary.

“Good,” Uncle Muhammad said.  He gave his wife a sharp look when she began to splutter in disbelief.  “Now, you need to take a careful look at these.”

He pulled a set of sealed plastic bags out of his pocket and dropped them on the table.  “Most of our trade goods are impossible for me to obtain on such short notice,” he said.  “These, on the other hand, will be worth a considerable sum of money off-world.  I suggest that you treat them with considerable care – and don’t let anyone know what they are, at least until you’re sure that you can trust them.  I've attached a set of instructions for using the berries and producing more.”

Sameena picked up one of the bags and frowned.  Inside, there were a dozen berries and seeds, just waiting for soil and water.  What were they?  

“Sunflower Berries,” Uncle Muhammad said, seeing her puzzlement.  “They’re almost worthless on this world, but off-worlders are very fond of them.”  He tapped the set of instructions.  “I think you would be able to grow new ones, if you tried.  Is gardening one of your skills?”

Sameena shook her head.  

“Don’t worry about it,” Uncle Muhammad said.  He nodded to his wife, who scowled at Sameena.  “My wife has taken the liberty of preparing some additional clothes for you, as well as food and drink.  However, I honestly don't know what will happen once you’re in orbit.  You may end up staying in the cargo pod for days before the ship reaches its destination.”

He looked back at Sameena.  “You could stay here,” he added.  “I would hide you.”

Sameena saw the look on his wife’s face and knew that wouldn't be safe.  Uncle Muhammad wasn't her real uncle, after all; there would be no legal objections if he wanted to marry her, particularly if he didn't register the marriage.  And she had no strong male protector to help her escape.  The Guardians would probably thank her for betraying her new husband right before they killed her for daring to try to escape them.

But she knew next to nothing about life off-world.  There were stories and rumours, but nothing concrete, nothing she could trust.  She might starve to death in the cargo pod, or be caught and killed by the freighter crew, or ... the only thing she could trust, really, was that there would be no Guardians.  She would be well away from them.  

“I’m going off-world,” she said, firmly.  She passed him the sheet of paper.  “This is everything I can remember.  I hope you can use it.”

Uncle Muhammad nodded.  “My wife will help you dress,” he said, as he turned to walk out of the library.  “And then we’ll be on our way.”

Away from her husband, Uncle Muhammad’s wife seemed to warm up slightly as she helped Sameena to wash and then dress in a new set of male clothes.  Sameena glanced at herself in the mirror, wondering if she shouldn't hack her hair off while she had the chance.  Her hairless chin was far too revealing, but if someone pulled off her turban they’d see long hair and know that she was female.  Then again, if someone came that close to her she was in deep trouble anyway.

“The cargo pods are unloaded outside the spaceport,” Uncle Muhammad explained, as she joined him in the car.  “One of them is being sealed in an hour or so; I want to get you inside before then, along with your supplies.  After that, you’re on your own.”

He passed her a small vial.  “This is a sleeping drug,” he added.  The car roared to life and bounced out of the driveway, heading towards the spaceport.  “Once you're inside, I suggest you take it.  You don’t want to make any sound before you reach orbit, or they’ll hand you over to the Guardians.”

Sameena took the vial and studied it, thoughtfully.  It was utterly unmarked.  She scowled, realising that it could easily be poison; Uncle Muhammad was unlikely to forgive her for her blackmail threat, no matter her reasons for threatening him.  Her dead body wouldn't be discovered until she was hundreds of light years from the Guardians or anyone else who might care to identify her.  Maybe she shouldn't take it ...

... But he was right.  There was no choice.

She sat back and forced herself to relax as the car entered the loading compound and braked to a halt.  Uncle Muhammad climbed out of the car and beckoned for her to follow him into the warehouse, where a large metal crate sat in the centre of the room.  It was open ... and completely empty.  The men surrounding it were sealing it up, piece by piece.”

“I’m going to call the men away,” Uncle Muhammad said, very quietly.  “When they go, you get inside and hide in the shadows.  And good luck.”

Sameena gave him a surprised look, then watched as he walked away to speak to his men.  As soon as they followed him out of the warehouse, she ran forward and slipped into the cargo pod.  Inside, it was as dark and silent as the grave.  She held her breath, not daring to make a sound, as she heard the men returning and slamming the final seals closed.  Darkness surrounded her like a living thing.

Bracing herself, she opened the vial through touch and swallowed its contents.  It tasted foul.

Moments later, she fell asleep.

Chapter Three

This should not be surprising.  The number of variables involved in any sophisticated economy can be staggering to contemplate.  Game theory admits of too many separate variables to allow accurate predictions – and, of course, each difference from theory and reality only serves to render theory even more useless.  In order to explore economics, we must go back to the very start of human civilisation.
- Professor Leo Caesius.  The Science That Isn’t: Economics and the Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire.  

Awareness came back to her slowly, in fits and starts.  She was lying on a hard metal surface, in absolute darkness.  It was so cold that her clothes were completely inadequate.  For a long chilling moment she thought that she had died and gone to Hell, before her memory returned and reminded her that she had stowed away in a cargo pod.  Where was she now?

A dull thrumming noise seemed to be everywhere, pervading through the cargo pod and echoing through her ears.  It was growing louder, sending tiny vibrations echoing through the metal hull; she realised, dully, that the ship was actually accelerating.  Or so she assumed.  In truth, she knew almost nothing about starships.  It wasn't a field of study that the Guardians encouraged.  Jannah had no starships and liked it that way.  

Should have brought a flashlight, she told herself, as she fumbled through the knapsack she’d been given by Uncle Muhammad.  He’d packed a small supply of food for her; carefully, she pulled out a piece of bread and chewed on it, feeling her stomach threatening to rebel.  There was something about being on the ship that was making her feel queasy, almost unwell.  And then the vibration simply seemed to stop.

The next thing she heard was something scrabbling at the outside of the cargo pod.  Sameena tensed, remembering the rats that had once found their way into her mother’s stockpile of rice and flour, before realising that someone was trying to get into the pods?  Were the pods opened in transit or ... it struck her, suddenly, that they’d realised that she was there.  A moment later, the pod cracked open and blinding light blazed inside.  Sameena gasped in pain and covered her eyes, unable to resist as strong hands grabbed her shoulder and hauled her out of the pod.  

“It’s a girl,” an accented voice said, in Imperial Standard.  “What the fuck?”

Sameena blinked in surprise.  How had they seen through her disguise so quickly?  There was no time to think about it, though; her captor grabbed her arms, pulled them behind her back and wrapped sticky tape around her wrists.  No matter how she struggled, she couldn't break free.   She was trapped.

“Language,” a second voice said, reprovingly.  “And you ought to know that the female of the species can be more deadly than the male.”

They were both male, Sameena realised, as her eyesight returned to normal.  One of them was young, with a pale face and blonde hair, wearing a tight-fitting uniform that moulded itself to fit his body.  The other was older, his face so badly scarred that she couldn’t tell his age, wearing a pair of grubby overalls decorated with hundreds of patches.  He should have scared Sameena, yet there was something about him that put her at ease.  But he was still holding her down.

“A stowaway,” the second man said.  He looked down at Sameena, thoughtfully.  “You’ll have to face the Captain.”

Sameena winced as he frisked her, removing everything from her pockets and piling them up beside her head.  He didn't seem to understand what the berries were either, or why she didn't have a weapon.  Eventually, he helped her to her feet and marched her through a metal door, his younger companion bringing up the rear.  

She couldn't help looking around as they made their way through the giant ship.  The walls – bulkheads, she reminded herself – were all metal, but decorated with children’s drawings and a handful of certificates written in Imperial Standard.  There was no time for a proper look as they kept pushing her onwards, towards what she assumed was the starship’s bridge.  They passed through a solid metal door and into a large compartment, crammed with consoles and computers.  The sight was so alien to her experience that she felt her legs buckle.  She would have collapsed if her captor hadn't been holding her upright.

“Captain,” her captor said, addressing an older man who reminded Sameena of her father, “we found one incredibly stupid stowaway.”

“Or ignorant,” a woman said, as Sameena flushed.  “Tom?”

The Captain leaned forward.  “I am Captain Hamilton, majority shareholder and commander of the Logan,” he said, briskly.  He looked very much like an older version of the younger man who’d helped catch her.  “What are you doing on my ship?”

Sameena hesitated, unsure of what to say.

“She is incredibly lucky, sir,” her captor said.  “She brought food, but no air or toilet supplies.  If we hadn't detected the faint consumption of oxygen, she would have suffocated to death when we sealed the cargo holds and pumped out the air.  And she had no weapon.”

The woman stepped forward.  “You need to tell us what happened,” she said, seriously.  “Or we will have no choice, but to turn about and return you to the planet.”

“No,” Sameena said, desperately.  “I won’t go back.”

“I don’t blame you,” the Captain said, “but we really need to know what happened to you – and why.”

Sameena nodded and started to recount the entire story, starting with her brother mouthing off to a religious tutor and ending with the drug she’d taken, once she was safely in the cargo pod.  It was hard to read the Captain’s reactions – he was as skilled at controlling himself as some of her father’s more formidable friends -  but the others seemed alternatively shocked or amused.

“Your uncle might have set you up to die in space,” her captor said, when she had finished.  “Or perhaps he was just too ignorant to realise that we would pump the air out of the cargo bay when we left orbit.”

“That’s not our concern,” the Captain said, firmly.  He looked down at Sameena.  “Does your homeworld still want to arrest you?”

“Come on, Tom,” the older woman interrupted.  “You can’t send her back to that ...”

“Ethne,” the Captain said, “you know what is at stake ...”

“Bugger all,” Ethne snapped.  “You really want to go back?  Because I don’t.”

“They might come after us, if they thought we were harbouring a fugitive,” the younger one of her captors said.  “We’re not armed to stand off a warship.”

The older captor snorted, rudely.  “Come after us with what?”

Captain Hamilton looked over at him.  “Paddy,” he said, “what did she have on her?”

“An Imperial Credit Coin, which should suffice to pay her way, and some ... berries,” the older captor – Paddy – said.  He looked towards Sameena.  “Care to explain what they are?”

“Sunflower Berries,” Sameena said, and explained.  “I think they’re very popular off-world.”

The Captain scowled.  “I cannot imagine why your uncle might have thought that,” he said, when she had finished.  “We’ll have them analysed before we do anything with them.”

Sameena watched as the crew continued to argue.  Some of them seemed willing to take her with them, others wanted to turn around and dump her back on Jannah.  It was difficult to follow their argument; every time she thought she knew who held what position, they seemed to change.  The only person who remained quiet, merely listening to the discussion, was the Captain.

“I don't want to go home,” she confessed, miserably.  There was nothing left for her on Jannah, but death.  Or a fate worse than death.  “If ...”

She swallowed and pushed onwards.  “If you let me stay, I will marry your son.”

“That settles it,” Ethne snapped.  “We are not returning her to her homeworld.”

“And she won’t have to marry me either,” the younger one of her captors said.  “I’m sure we can take her to Madagascar and drop her off there.”

“Except she has little to attract people apart from her looks,” the Captain mused, as if Sameena wasn’t in the compartment.  He picked up her Credit Coin and looked down at it, thoughtfully.  “And even if we give her the lowest possible rate, she won’t have enough to live on afterwards.”

“Then she can stay onboard,” Ethne said, firmly.  “I’ve always wanted another daughter.”

Captain Hamilton smiled and looked over at Sameena.  “You are utterly unprepared for life outside a planetary gravity well,” he said, simply.  “And you are incredibly lucky that we noticed your presence before you died.  How long were you intending to spend inside the cargo pod anyway?  You would have been in there for a month before we unloaded the pod.”

He scowled.  “You would have starved if you had not suffocated,” he added.  “That gives us a problem.”

“But one we can overcome,” Ethne said.  “She would hardly be the first groundhog to come into space with us.”

The Captain nodded.  “You have two choices,” he said.  “It will take us a month to reach Madagascar, our next port of call.  In that time, you can study and learn enough to become part of the crew.  We might as well start with basic safety precautions; space is a harsh environment and a single mistake can kill.  Or we can put you in the stasis pod and offload you when we reach Madagascar.  You’d be on your own from then onwards.”

Sameena hesitated, cursing her own ignorance.  It had honestly never occurred to her – and she had no way of knowing if it had occurred to Uncle Muhammad – that they might pump the atmosphere out of the cargo hold.  How many other dangers were lurking for her, hiding in plain sight ... and shielded by her own ignorance.  Perhaps Madagascar would be better for her.

But I know nothing of the greater universe, she thought.  All she really knew was composed of vague generalities that her father had told her, when she’d been younger.  I need to know more.

“I’ll stay with you,” she said, making up her mind.  They’d refused her suggestion that she should marry their son, thankfully.  It spoke well of them.  “And I will do my best to learn.”

“See that you do,” the Captain growled.  “We do have the two kids onboard.  They’ll be happy to help you – or I’ll know the reason why.”

He nodded towards his wife.  “If Jannah tries to hail us, ignore them,” he ordered.  “It isn't as if they can come after us anyway.  If we weren't so desperate for credits, we would never have come here in the first place.”

“Understood,” Ethne said.  

Sameena frowned as she tried to understand their relationship.  On Jannah, no wife would argue with her husband in public.  The man was the head of the family and arguing and pleading had to be done in private, if it was done at all.  Sameena knew a few families where the wife had been beaten into mute compliance soon after marriage.  But Ethne seemed more than willing to argue with her husband in front of the rest of the crew.

The Captain smiled at Sameena.  “Welcome aboard,” he said.  “Can I have your name for the ship’s log?”

“Sameena,” Sameena said.  “I think I want to discard my family name.”

“Good idea,” Ethne agreed, bluntly.  She nodded towards her son.  “Brad Hamilton; my oldest ...”

“And best,” Brad put in quickly.

“I did better the second and third time around,” Ethne said.  “Steve and James are busy working on the drive; you’ll meet them later.  Jayne should be in the medical compartment right now.”  She waved a hand at the scarred man.  “Paddy, my son-in-law; Jayne’s husband.”

“And the kids are at their schooling,” Paddy said.

Sameena found her voice.  “You’re all related?”

“Most of us are,” the Captain confirmed.  “The kids, on the other hand, are here to gain experience from someone who isn’t related to them.  When they grow up, they will probably marry into another ship’s crew or try to buy their own ship.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ethne added.  “You’re part of the family now.”

She looked over at Paddy.  “Speaking of which,” she added, “take her to see Jayne and tell my daughter that I want a full medical workup on Sameena before we start teaching her how to survive in space.”

“And tell her to take a look at those berries,” the Captain added.  “I want to know what they are and if they are of any real value.”

He held out his hand to Sameena, then scowled.  “Cut her hands free,” he ordered.  “She needs to be welcomed into the family properly.”

Sameena held herself very still as Paddy cut her bonds.  Once her hands were free, she took the Captain’s hand, even though she knew that it would have been considered indecent on Jannah.  Shaking an unrelated man’s hand, no matter how innocently, could call her chastity into question.  But somehow it was no longer even remotely important.

“Welcome to the crew,” the Captain said, shaking her hand firmly.  “I hope that the Great Traders will smile on you.”

Paddy offered his hand next, followed by Brad, who gave her a wink and a smile.  Ethne gave her a hug, then gently pointed her towards the hatch.  Paddy stepped past her and opened the hatch, then led her out of the bridge and down another metallic corridor.  The gravity seemed to be fluctuating slightly – one moment, she felt heavier; the next, she felt lighter – making her feel dizzy as Paddy stopped in front of a hatch in the deck.  He opened it up, revealing a ladder leading downwards into the bowels of the ship.

“There are three decks in all,” Paddy explained, as he climbed down the ladder.  “Our living quarters are on decks one and two, along with the exercise room, the school and a few other compartments.  Deck three is almost entirely cargo space; both decks one and two have their own holds too.  You’ll get used to it.  I suggest that you stay in your cabin unless you’re escorted, at least until you know what you’re doing.  Space is a very unforgiving mistress.”

Sameena said nothing as he stopped in front of a hatch and keyed a switch.  There was a long pause, then he stepped forward and pushed against the metal, forcing it to open up.  Inside, there was a small compartment, with a woman seated in front of a tiny desk.  Jayne, Sameena assumed.  The woman’s eyes went wide when she saw Sameena.

“I thought Brad was pulling my leg,” she said.  She stared at Sameena as if she expected her to vanish the moment she looked away.  “A real live stowaway!”

Sameena stared back.  She had never seen such an immodest girl in her entire life.  Jayne was tall and blonde, just like her older brother, but she wore a very tight uniform with a cut in it that exposed the top of her breasts.  The suit followed the curves of her body, revealing almost everything she had.  How could she show off so much in front of her family, let alone a complete stranger?  Sameena had never been so immodest even when it had just been her mother in the room.

“A real live stowaway,” Paddy confirmed, gruffly.  “The XO wants you to perform a complete medical scan, then analyse these berries and see what they are.”

He put the berries down on Jayne’s tiny desk and stepped backwards.  “I have to get back to duty,” he admitted.  “The XO should have designated a cabin for our guest after you’ve checked her out, so please take her there.  And I’ll see you tonight.”

Jayne smiled at her husband.  “I look forward to it,” she said.  “And thank you.”

Sameena felt herself flushing as Paddy stepped out of the compartment and closed the hatch.  Paddy had to be at least two decades older than Jayne, perhaps more.  The Judge – whatever had happened to him – had been older than Paddy, but that had been different.  Paddy and Jayne seemed to really love each other.  

“I had to stay on the ship while the boys went down to the surface,” Jayne said, tapping the bed.  “I don’t think I’d like your homeworld very much.”

“No,” Sameena agreed.  The Guardians would have a collective heart attack if they saw Jayne wearing her outfit.  If they could beat a woman for daring to show a single strand of hair – and her husband, if he didn't have any powerful connections – she hated to think what they would do to Jayne.  “I didn't like it much either.”

“Smart girl,” Jayne said.  “Undress and get onto the bed.”

Sameena hesitated.  “You’re a doctor?”

“I have the qualifications to prove it,” Jayne said, tartly.  “Don’t you have female doctors on your homeworld?”

“No,” Sameena admitted, silently thanking God that she had never been ill.  Male doctors were not allowed to touch female patients, merely ask them questions.  And that was if they were lucky.  If the husband was very traditionalist, the doctor would have to ask him questions instead.  There was no such thing as a female doctor on Jannah, only midwives.  “There are none on my homeworld.”

“Barbarians,” Jayne said, crossly.  She tapped the bed meaningfully.  “Come on and undress.  I really don’t have all day.  And then we will find you something a little more appropriate to wear.  If you want to be part of the crew, you have to look the part.”

Sameena swallowed hard and started to undress.  She had never been completely naked in front of anyone, except her mother – and that only when she'd been very young.  Now, a complete stranger was going to be looking at her ... she bit her lip as she lay down on the bed, hoping that it would be quick.  

At least she isn't the Judge, she thought.  I won’t ever have to marry him.

Chapter Four

The basic law of economics is summed up in the interaction of supply and demand.  If demand outstrips supply, prices will rise; if supply outstrips demand, prices will fall.  This seems outrageously simple in theory, but in practice it can become alarmingly complex.  
- Professor Leo Caesius.  The Science That Isn’t: Economics and the Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire.  

“Interesting,” Jayne said, twenty minutes later.  “Very interesting indeed.”

Sameena gritted her teeth.  Being naked made her feel vulnerable ... and she wasn't entirely sure that she trusted Jayne enough to be vulnerable near her, even if she was female.  The doctor had waved ... devices over her body, taken a sample of her blood and poked and prodded at her orifices.  Sameena was honestly uncertain just what, if anything, was going on, or what Jayne hoped to find out.  It seemed rather more like pointless sadism to her.

“What,” she demanded finally, “is so interesting?”

“Your homeworld was founded by a religious sect that banned genetic engineering,” Jayne said.  She saw Sameena’s blank look and hastened to explain.  “The science of modifying the human genome in hopes of improving it.  Quite a few low-tech worlds have the same blanket ban in place, forbidding any form of human improvement.  But there are definite traces of genetic engineering in your bloodstream.”

Sameena frowned, not understanding.  “What did they do?”

“I think they gave you – your ancestors, I should say – a basic upgrade package ... probably around seven hundred years ago,” Jayne said, after a long moment.  “You have improved resistance to disease, you heal quicker than pureblood humans ... there may be other modifications beyond my ability to detect.  That isn't too uncommon, really.  A low-tech world means low-tech medical science.  Giving you some improvements might have been intended to prevent you from rediscovering medical science for yourself.” 

“I don’t understand,” Sameena confessed.  “How?”

Jayne gave her a vaguely superior smile.  “You do understand how humans produce more humans, don’t you?”

Sameena nodded, sharply.  Her mother had told her when she’d asked, then threatened the whipping of a lifetime if Sameena ever mentioned the fact she knew to anyone.  

“The child combines ... aspects from both mother and father,” Jayne added.  “In this case, the original colonists were improved and then the improvements were passed down through the generations until you were born.”

“I see, I think,” Sameena said.  Had the Guardians known?  Or the powerful people Uncle Muhammad had worked for?  “What else did they do?”

“Your eyesight and hearing are both excellent,” Jayne said.  “That’s probably intended to remove another incentive to rediscover science.  I was worried that they might have done something to your brain, but it seems they weren't quite that foolish.  A low-tech world might not have the ability to deal with the problems when they cropped up – and they would.”

She glanced down at the terminal in her hand.  “Virgin, of course,” she added.  “That’s uncommon at your age.”

Sameena blushed, furiously.  

“Nothing seems to be wrong with your reproductive system,” Jayne continued, smirking openly now.  “I’ll give you an implant for coping with your time of the month – there's no reason why you should have to put up with it on the ship, or anywhere else for that matter.  The implant will also serve to prevent pregnancy, should you decide you wish to have sex with someone.  You can get it removed just about anywhere ...”

She chuckled as Sameena’s blush grew worse.  “Don’t worry about it,” she added.  “If you’re not interested, just say so.”

Sameena sat upright and swung her legs over the bed, allowing them to dangle down towards the deck.  “Are we finished yet?”

“Almost,” Jayne said.  She reached into a small cupboard and produced a white uniform, which she passed to Sameena.  “This is a basic shipsuit, providing limited protection from the vacuum of space.   If you hear the emergency alarm, pull the mask” – she demonstrated – “over your face, then head to the nearest emergency airlock or cache.”

Sameena frowned.  “What if there isn't one nearby?”

“Then you need to bend over and kiss your ass goodbye,” Jayne explained, shaking her head.  “Space can kill, easily.  If you happen to be caught up in a disaster without emergency supplies, you’re screwed.”

“Oh,” Sameena said.

She pulled the shipsuit over her head and frowned at the way it moulded itself to her body, outlining her breasts and hips for everyone to see.  Jayne was far better developed, she knew, but Jayne was related to all of the adult males on the ship.  Everyone could stare at Sameena ...

“You can wear something else over the suit,” Jayne said.  She dug into another cupboard and produced a long white coat.  “But not wearing the suit while you’re outside a secure compartment will be severely punished.  Wear it at all times until you know where you can safely remove it.”

Sameena pulled the coat on, then watched as Jayne poked and prodded at the berries.  “Not an Earth-origin fruit,” Jayne observed, thoughtfully.  “The ... ah, construction is completely dissimilar to anything from Earth.”

She looked up, suddenly.  “What do they tell you about Earth on your homeworld?”

Sameena struggled to remember the lessons Abdul had recited to her, back when she’d been younger and the world had seemed to make a little more sense.  The male children had been expected to learn by rote, without actually thinking about the material; female children had been lucky if they’d had any schooling at all, beyond limited religious education.  

“Just that it turned into a nightmare and so the founders left to find a place where the religion could flourish,” she recalled.  “And that we were the last bastion of Islam.”

Jayne snickered.  “I can name a dozen planets where Islam is the dominant faith,” she said, “and I’d be surprised if there weren't hundreds more.  Your founders lied to you, girl.”

Once, Sameena knew, the thought would have been inconceivable.  But she’d already been questioning, even before Abdul had run into real trouble.  She knew that she was smarter than her brother, certainly better suited to run the family business; why should the mere fact that she had been born female stand in her way?  And yet, she knew that she wouldn't have been allowed to take control openly.  The law would side with her brother.  

“I know,” she said, quietly.  “I know.”

There was a ding from the machine.  “Let’s see,” Jayne said, peering down at the screen.  A moment later, she began to laugh.  “Oh, this is hilarious.”

Sameena stared at her.  “What is hilarious?

“The berries,” Jayne said.  “We know what they are.”

She straightened up.  “I have to go speak to my father,” she said.  “Coming?”

Puzzled, Sameena allowed her to lead the way out of the medical compartment and through a series of corridors until they reached a single large room, dominated by a set of large computer-like machines.  Two children – a boy and a girl – were sitting in front of the machines, supervised by Captain Hamilton, who was tapping away on a smaller terminal in his hands.  The children turned to stare at Sameena as she entered the compartment, their eyes going wide.  None of them had expected a stowaway from Jannah.

“These machines teach the children what they need to know,” Jayne explained, briefly.  “You can take the standard tests, then start developing your knowledge from there.  We’ll have to open you an account with the examiners on Madagascar, at least if you want the qualifications, but you can go quite some distance without them.”

“As long as you're careful,” Captain Hamilton said.  He dismissed the kids, who took one final look at Sameena and then fled the compartment.  “What did you find?”

Jayne started to titter.  “The berries she brought with her,” she said, indicating Sameena.  “There’s a direct match to Firewater Mead.  I checked it twice, dad.  Jannah is the source of Firewater Mead.”

Captain Hamilton stared at Sameena.  “Did you know about this?”

Sameena, puzzled, shook her head.

“They kept her completely ignorant, dad,” Jayne said, flatly.  “I would venture a guess that she knows absolutely nothing about Firewater Mead.”  She looked over at Sameena.  “Do you?”

“No,” Sameena admitted.

Captain Hamilton cleared his throat.  “Firewater Mead is ... one of the most expensive drinks in the Empire,” he said.  “It’s sold by a cartel based in the Core Worlds, with absolutely staggering price tags.  No one knows where it comes from; as far as anyone can tell, the cartel has an absolute monopoly.”

“Allowing them to set prices as they see fit,” Sameena said, just to prove that she wasn't a complete ignorant.  Her father had ensured that she knew something about basic economics and she doubted that the laws would be any different in the Empire.  “And this ... stuff comes from my planet?”

“So it would seem,” Jayne said.  “Do you know anything about the berries?”

“They’re called Sunflower Berries,” Sameena recalled.  “Other than that ... nothing.”

The Captain scowled.  “That makes a certain kind of sense,” he admitted.  “Your homeworld’s leadership would not want their little secret exposed; once the galaxy knew the source, there would be hundreds of starships heading to Jannah, intent on claiming control of the berries for themselves.  Selling them to the cartel would allow them to keep the trade under control, while the cartel would have its own motives to keep its collective mouth shut.”

He started to laugh.  “Used properly,” he said, “those berries you bought with you would be worth an absolute fortune.”

“Uncle Muhammad knew,” Sameena said.  She hesitated as a thought struck her.  “This ... Firewater Mead, sir.  Is it alcoholic?”

“I don’t think so,” Jayne said, before her father could answer.  “It’s derived from a plant that was probably native to Jannah, rather than a modified part of the standard terraforming package.  But if we were to grow the berries ourselves ...”

Pity, part of Sameena’s mind thought.  The tutors regularly castigated the outside universe for being sodden with alcohol.  If she’d managed to convince the world that the Guardians were selling alcohol to the off-worlders ... what would it do?  It might give them some bad moments before they regained control.

“We’d have to be very careful,” Captain Hamilton warned.  “The cartel would not take it lightly if we were undermining its sales.”

He looked over at Sameena.  “It’s lucky for you that I’m honest,” he said.  “As it is ... you can start using the berries soon enough, but I will expect a cut of the profits.”

Sameena nodded.  “Yes, sir,” she said.

“We cross the phase limit in five hours,” the Captain added.  “I think you’ll want to be on the bridge for that, just as I was on my first voyage.  Jayne can take you to your cabin and help you get settled in.  We’ll work out a duty and educational roster for you tomorrow.”

“Put her on cooking duties,” Jayne said.  She pulled a face.  “I love Paddy dearly, but when I think about his cooking ...”

“People who live in glass starships shouldn’t throw stones,” her father said.  “Your cooking is no better than his.”

Sameena looked from one to the other in stark disbelief.  Paddy – the scarred man who had caught her and dragged her up to the bridge – was the cook?  And not Jayne or Ethne, the Captain’s wife?  Men didn't cook, not on Jannah.  But she was starting to realise that the rules were different on the ship.

“I can try,” she said, remembering all the recipes her mother had taught her.  But they all depended on having the right ingredients and she had no idea if they were available in outer space.  “I do know how to cook.”

“But not on a starship,” the Captain said.  “Still, you can try.”

He looked over at his daughter.  “Take her to her cabin, then sit with her for a while,” he ordered.  “She will probably need company.”

Jayne opened her mouth, as if she were going to object, then nodded brusquely and led Sameena out of the compartment and down towards a set of hatches in the bulkheads.  Most of them had a name stencilled on them – one read PADDY + JAYNE – but a handful were blank.  Jayne keyed a switch outside one of the blank ones and the hatch hissed open, slowly.  

“There are too many parts of this ship that are wearing out,” she said, by way of explanation.  “The ship is really too big for the handful of crew we have, but dad won’t hear of exchanging her for something smaller.  Nor should he, really.  I was born on this ship.”

Sameena nodded.  “How did you meet Paddy?”

“He signed on as a general crewman, with experience in engineering and helm control – and weapons,” Jayne explained.  “After a few weeks, he’d proved himself and I asked him to marry me.”

She smiled at Sameena’s disbelieving expression.  “That’s quite common among the clans,” she added.  “Marriage and blood ties bind us together, even when we fight – and that’s quite common too.  One day, Paddy will go to another ship and I will probably go with him.”

Sameena shook her head as she followed Jayne into the tiny cabin.  It sounded absurd, yet ... her own homeworld had been a great deal worse.  If she hadn't had such an understanding father, she might be married by now ... having met her husband on their wedding day.  The marriage would have been arranged by both sets of parents and the bride and groom wouldn't have had any say in the matter.

“Keep the hatch firmly closed at all times,” Jayne explained.  “This is one of the sealed compartments, where you can undress – although I do recommend that you keep the suit on when you don’t specifically need to be without it.  You’ll notice the telltales at the corner of the airlock” – she pointed to a glowing green light – “that confirm that it is safe to leave the compartment.  If they turn red, stay inside and use the terminal to alert the rest of the crew.”

Sameena nodded.  The compartment was tiny, barely large enough for one person ... but it felt better than her bedroom on Jannah.  She couldn't have said why.

“The toilet is in the tiny section at the end of the compartment,” Jayne continued.  “There’s a shower at the end of the corridor; you’re restricted to only one shower a day, unless you manage to convince someone to trade with you.  Water is in short supply on the ship, so learn to be quick when you shower.  Luckily, we have plenty of hot air to help dry you.”

She smiled, then pushed on.  “The terminal is connected to the ship’s interior communications network and memory core,” she said.  “If you want to watch a movie, listen to music or read a textbook, you can access them through the terminal.  There are no restrictions on what you can see, but ... given where you’re from, you might want to give the Green-Skinned Alien Space Babes series a miss.  And anything else with such a rating.”

“I see,” Sameena said, although she didn’t.  Green-skinned alien space babes?  “What should I be reading now?”

Jayne glanced at her chronometer.  “Mum will probably want you to start early tomorrow,” she said, “so I’d honestly advise getting some sleep.  But as we’re going to be crossing the Phase Limit and you won’t want to miss it ...”

She picked up the terminal and tapped on it, then passed the device to Sameena.  “That’s a tutoring program,” she explained.  “Basically, it teaches you how to use the interface to pull information and entertainment out of the system.  But it won’t take you long to pick it up.”

She was right, Sameena decided, as she experimented with the terminal.  It was quite user-friendly, even though she didn't have even the faintest idea of how the technology behind it worked.  Once she mastered the basic system, she skimmed though a brief overview of the Empire’s history, looking specifically for anything on Jannah.  There was almost nothing, beyond a description of the government that was clearly outdated.  And a link to a controversy over the removal of the Holy City of Mecca from Earth.

The article reminded her of something she’d been forgetting.  “Which way do I pray?”

“I have no idea,” Jayne said.  She frowned.  “Is it really that important to you?”

Sameena hesitated.  She had been told that infidels – non-Muslims – were perplexed by even the simplest parts of Islam, or the strict requirements that Muslims were obliged to honour.  But part of her wanted Jayne to understand, even though Sameena herself was wondering about the faith.  How much of her previously-restricted life had been dictated by the Guardians, rather than Islam itself?

“I think so, yes,” she admitted, finally.  It was still important to her, after all.  She didn't need the Guardians – or the Clerics – to be a good Muslim.  “How did they do it in the past?”

“Get the terminal to tell you the direction of Earth, or New Mecca,” Jayne said, after taking back the terminal and glancing at it.  “There are programs that will keep track of it for you.”

She pulled a smaller device off her belt and settled down to read.  “Read as much as you like,” she added.  “You can't trust everything written down in the shared databases, but much of it has been verified by the clans.  I guess that’s what we get for allowing everyone to contribute.  But it’s better than the standard Imperial-issue databases.  You might learn something useful reading these, while those are full of lies.”

Her eyes narrowed.  “Just like the ones on your homeworld,” she concluded.  “How many lies do you think you can uncover with a quick search?  A hundred?”

Sameena shrugged.  After everything she’d seen and done in the last twenty-four hours, she didn’t doubt it for a second.  

Chapter Five

This is, to some extent, caused by the fact that value is relative.  A desire shared by one person may not be shared by others.  For example, bras are worn by almost every mature woman, while the number of men who will willingly wear a bra is vanishingly small.  Men, simply put, place less value on bras than women.  Women, likewise, will not place so much value on male-specific items.
- Professor Leo Caesius.  The Science That Isn’t: Economics and the Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire.  

Despite herself, Sameena had to admit that crossing the Phase Limit and jumping into Phase Space was not particularly exciting.  Her homeworld’s star was little more than a dot of light, while Jannah itself had vanished somewhere in the darkness of space.  On the other hand, the moment they went FTL she knew that she was completely safe.  The Guardians could no longer even demand that she be returned to the planet.  

“Brad, you have the bridge,” Captain Hamilton said.  The viewscreens all showed the same inky darkness, an unholy sight that sent a chill running down Sameena’s spine.  “The rest of us will go eat dinner.”

“Bring me something nice,” Brad said, quickly.  “Or should I wait until the end of my shift?”

Captain Hamilton looked over at Sameena, ignoring his son.  “How are you feeling?”

“Relieved,” Sameena admitted, finally.

“No nausea?”  Ethne asked.  “Or even mild discomfort?”

Sameena shook her head.  Jayne had warned her that some people felt uncomfortable when entering Phase Space, while a tiny minority of the human race took it so badly that they had to be sedated or placed in a stasis pod before they could leave their home system.  But she’d felt almost nothing, apart from a faint quiver passing through her as the starship jumped into Phase Space.  She hoped that was a good sign.

“A natural-born spacer,” Paddy said, cheerfully.  The older man gave Sameena a twisted smile.  “Welcome to the clan, my dear.”

“Food,” Ethne said, firmly.  “We can have a small party later.”

She led the way down to a small kitchen on deck two.  Sameena took one look and knew that she wouldn't be able to cook for her new family, at least until she worked out how to handle the cooking equipment.  Almost nothing was recognisable, apart from the kitchen sink.  Even when Paddy went to work, providing a running commentary as he produced food from a preservation locker and dumped it into a pan, it was hard to follow what he was doing.

“We took on a consignment of fresh food at Jannah,” Paddy explained, as he cracked eggs and dropped their innards into a pan.  “After we finish it, we’re back on ration bars – hello, constipation and irritation.  They used to feed us exclusively on ration bars while I was in the military, just to make sure that we were ready to take it out on anyone fool enough to challenge us.”

“He’s off telling war stories again,” Jayne said, as she pulled the table down from the bulkhead.  “I suggest you take everything he says with a grain of salt.”

Sameena watched quietly as Paddy placed the pan on a metal surface and tapped a switch.  The surface – the stove, she realised – started to glow red, cooking the eggs.  She stepped forward, studying the stove carefully.  It was hard to see how it worked; it certainly seemed more sophisticated than the gas-fired stove her mother had used.  

“Fresh bread,” Paddy said, as he started to ladle out the scrambled eggs.  “And jam.  And butter.  And fruit.”

Sameena took her plate and started to eat, watching with some amusement as Paddy doled out fruit and vegetables to the two kids.  They seemed even more reluctant to eat their vegetables than Abdul had, back on Jannah.  The thought caused her a pang of grief.  Her brother might have been responsible for her family’s arrest, but he’d been a good brother and she missed him.  She knew that she would never see him again.  

Paddy’s cooking wasn't too bad, although the meal was unfamiliar.  Sameena couldn't understand why Jayne had grumbled about her husband’s cooking, particularly when she didn't have to cook herself.  Or maybe it was just part of their odd relationship ... if there was something she had learned from the terminal, it was that the outside universe had more complex relationships than anything that had existed on Jannah.  

“Thank you,” she said, remembering her manners.  “Can I help with the washing up?”

Paddy gave her a blank look, then laughed, not unkindly.  “No need,” he said, as he took her plate and placed it in a drawer.  “The automatic washer will take care of it.”

Sameena stared as he tapped a button, then pulled the plate back out of the drawer.  It was clean.  Somehow, seeing the washer in action brought home to her just how much her homeworld had chosen to abandon when the founders had left Earth.  Sameena had helped with the washing up almost as soon as she was old enough to walk.  How much of her life, she asked herself, had been completely wasted?  And how many other labour-saving devices had never been allowed on Jannah?

Jayne placed a hand on Sameena’s shoulder and she jumped.

“You need to get some sleep,” the doctor said, softly.  “I’ll lead you back to your cabin, then tuck you in.”

“She can borrow Mr. Paws, if she likes,” Regina said.  The little girl smiled shyly at Sameena, then looked over at Jayne.  “Maybe that would help her sleep.”

Jayne laughed.  “Would you like to borrow a stuffed animal?”

Sameena shook her head.  “No, thank you,” she said to Regina.  “I should be able to sleep without him.”

“I never slept without him for the first month on the ship,” Regina said.  “You can borrow him, if you would like.”

“She said no thank you,” Jayne said, firmly.  She looked over at Sameena.  “Coming?”

Sameena nodded and followed her out of the hatch and down towards the cabins.  “Mum will be waking you at 0900 tomorrow,” Jayne said, once they were alone.  “I suggest that you go straight to sleep.  Mum will not be happy if you’re too tired to wake up tomorrow.”

The bunk was uncomfortable, Sameena discovered, but she was too tired to care.  Instead, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep, struggling to ignore the omnipresent thrumming running through the entire ship.  It was funny, she decided, as she rolled over and pressed her ear into the pillow, how she’d managed to ignore the sound when she was awake, but it had come back as soon as she was trying to sleep.

She must have fallen asleep, for the next thing she remembered was Ethne shaking her gently.  For a long moment, she thought that everything from Abdul’s stupidity to her escape had been a nightmare ... and then reality came rushing back as she opened her eyes.  The Captain’s wife – and XO, according to Jayne – was standing right next to her bunk.  

“Time to get up,” Ethne said, sharply.  “You need to eat something before you face the tutoring machines.”

Sameena nodded, climbed out of the bunk and splashed water on her face, careful to allow the drops to fall back into the sink.  Jayne hadn't said much about how the ship processed and reprocessed water, but some of the technical documents she’d read on the terminal had stated that the ship had no facilities for mining water from interstellar space.  They had only a limited supply until they reached their next port of call.

Breakfast consisted of a pair of ration bars and a mug of coffee.  The coffee tasted awful compared to the coffee she’d drunk on Jannah, something that puzzled her until Ethne pointed out that the freighter had to carry processed coffee and the planet’s inhabitants could obtain fresh coffee.  Sameena was still puzzling it over in her head when Ethne introduced her to her other sons, Steve and James.  James was so like Jayne that it was easy to tell that they were twins.

“Welcome aboard,” Steve said, shaking her hand.  By now, it no longer felt strange to be shaking male hands.  “I hope you become an engineer.  There’s no shortage of work for qualified engineers these days.”

“Bit too late for her now,” James said.  “Engineers really start quite young.”

“We’ll see,” Ethne said, crossly.  She gave her sons a look that cowed them instantly.  “I shall be expecting you to find something for her to do in the next few days.”

Sameena was impressed.  Boys on Jannah rarely listened to their mothers, certainly not once they were old enough to realise that women were second-class citizens.  The clerics preached absolute obedience to fathers – and the clerics themselves, naturally – but they never spoke of obeying one’s mother.  Abdul had been a nightmare for Sameena’s mother – and he’d been one of the better-behaved young men.  Ethne, on the other hand, seemed quite capable of dominating her children.  

“This way,” Ethne said, breaking into Sameena’s thoughts.  “You can chat to the boys later.”

Sameena felt herself flushing as they stepped down the corridor and into the schoolroom, or so she’d come to think of it.  There was no sign of the kids, or anyone else.  Ethne motioned for her to take a chair, then sat down on the opposite side of the table.

“Ignorance can kill,” she said, simply.  “But you already know that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Sameena said.  She’d made a vow to herself when she’d started studying the terminal and making a mental list of documents to read.  “I will never be ignorant again.”

Ethne’s lips twitched.  “A very good idea,” she agreed, dryly.  She cleared her throat, preparing to lecture.  “The Empire firmly believes that everyone must attend a standardised educational program from four to twenty years old, complete with mandatory school attendance and constant testing.  We disagree – and we take advantage of a loophole in the law to school our children while they are onboard ship.  You fall into an odd category as none of the qualifications you have earned on your homeworld are valid outside your solar system.”

“I earned none,” Sameena admitted.  “My father would never allow me to be tested.”

“Education comes in three sections,” Ethne continued.  “First, the student spends an hour a day using one of the educational programs.”  She nodded towards the tutoring machines.  “Second, the student completes assignments handed out by a tutor, which are then passed back to the tutor when the ship returns to port.  Third, and perhaps most importantly, there are practical lessons supervised by a qualified starship officer.

“In order to start you on the first – and to prepare you for obtaining assignments from the tutor – we need to know where you are.  What I’ve done is program the tutoring machine to give you an examination, starting from the first level and moving upwards to the highest levels.  It will measure your basic skills, knowledge of the standard curriculum and a handful of other important points.  Don’t worry if you find that most of the questions are impossible for you to answer.  There are questions in the machine that I would have trouble answering.”

Sameena winced.  It was hard to imagine anything that would defeat Ethne.

Ethne gave her a reassuring smile.  “After that, we will run through basic starship safety,” she added.  “You really have to understand just how dangerous life in space can be.”

She stood up and walked over to one of the tutoring machines.  “Sit here,” she said, pointing to a stool in front of the machine.  The console came to life as Sameena sat down.  “Would you rather read the questions off the screen or have them read out to you?”

“Read the questions,” Sameena said, after a moment.

“Smart choice,” Ethne said.  She pointed to the image of a talking face.  “If you need a question read out to you, push that button.”

She tapped a switch and a question appeared on the screen.  What is the first letter in the Imperial Standard alphabet?

“Tap the screen to select the answer you believe to be accurate,” Ethne said.  “It will automatically move on to the next one, without telling you if you were right or wrong.  You’ll get a full breakdown of your answers at the end of the session.  Don’t try to guess the answer, just skip the question.”

She smiled at Sameena.  “Ready?”

Sameena nodded, mutely.

“Go,” Ethne ordered.

The questions, as Ethne had promised, started out easy and rapidly grew harder and harder, forcing her to skip past them.  Basic maths was straightforward – her father had insisted that she studied maths with the same intensity as her brother and she knew that she was good at it – but questions on history, science and biology left her feeling slow and stupid.  Jannah had taught her next to nothing about the Empire’s history, save only that it was a wretched hive of scum and villainy that the founders had been glad to abandon.  Even a couple of questions on comparative religion left her wondering how many other lies she’d believed ...

Several other questions tested her problem-solving skills.  Once she realised that the precise details were there to hide the nature of the problem, she found them easier to solve.  Some of them were even practical applications of math skills she’d mastered as a child, then discarded as useless.  But then, they would have been useless to a girl on Jannah.  There was no way that she would be allowed to seek employment as an engineer.  

“Good work,” Ethne said, as the volley of questions finally came to an end.  She’d been sitting at the table, reading from her terminal.  “The machine will analyse your performance and then determine the best path of study for you.”

Sameena slumped, feeling uncomfortably sweaty.  Her head hurt; she’d wondered why Abdul had complained so much after examinations, but now she knew.  Besides, she had a feeling that his examinations had been more focused on rote learning and recitation than actually forcing him to think.  Her exam had been much tougher, even if she hadn't been threatened with a beating for mispronouncing a single word.

“Drink this,” Ethne said, passing her a flask.  The liquid inside tasted odd, but refreshing.  “I remember my first exam far too well.  Training can be very taxing.”

She smiled, as if she had made a joke.  Sameena didn't understand.

“My father was a trader,” Sameena said, instead.  “He tried to make sure that I learned ...”

“He failed in his duty to you,” Ethne said, shortly.  “Imagine denying someone an education because of their sex!”

Sameena hesitated, unsure of what to say.  On one hand, her father had seen to it that she had received some education, certainly far more than any of the other girls she knew.  But on the other hand, he had never insisted that she take exams or tried to enter one of the few career paths open for women.  She might have made a good teacher, if she’d been given a chance.  

“I wouldn't have been able to do anything with it,” she confessed.  “Jannah has little place for educated women.”

“You’re not on Jannah now,” Ethne reminded her.  There was a bleep from the tutoring machine.  “Let’s have a look.”

She skimmed through the details as they flowed over the screen.  “Interesting ... you rated high in problem solving and maths, poorly in most other fields.  Basic comprehension is good; advanced comprehension is very limited, despite your age.  There are concepts that you would never have been exposed to on your homeworld, I suspect.  Picking them up is going to take time.  Still, there’s plenty we can work with.  But you probably won’t make an engineer.”

Sameena blinked in surprise.  “Why not?”

“It can take years of study to become fully qualified,” Ethne explained.  “Steve started when he was nine, practically apprenticing himself to my younger brother.  By the time he was sixteen, he could dismantle a Phase Drive and put it back together ... which, by the way, is not something we are supposed to do.  You, on the other hand, are missing plenty of background knowledge that Steve picked up from birth.”

She shrugged.  “On the other hand, you would make an excellent trader,” she added.  “I think I’ll treat you as my apprentice.  That will give you some background you will desperately need.  But you will still have to work all over the ship.”

Sameena nodded.  She had expected no less.

“I’m going to work my way through your results,” Ethne said.  “In the meantime, I want you to study basic safety precautions.  Ignorance can kill.”

“Ignorance can kill,” Sameena repeated.  She had a feeling that she was going to be sick of that phase before too long.  But she knew that Ethne was right.  “Show me what to study.”

Ethne grinned and tapped on the tutoring machine.  “This is a very basic program,” she admitted, as the screen changed.  “And it can be very graphic.  But it is still deeply important that you study it.  After that ...”

Her smile grew wider.  “I want you to write a report,” she added, “and list everything that could have gone wrong with your harebrained plan to escape your homeworld.  The program will show you just about everything, but I want you to use your imagination too.  Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” Sameena said.  She hesitated, then admitted something she’d realised while watching Jayne at work.  “I don't know how to type.”

“The machine has a basic tutoring program.  You’ll pick it up,” Ethne assured her.  “And once the report is done, we can go for lunch and then Paddy will teach you how to cook.  Maybe you would be a better cook.”

“His food wasn't bad,” Sameena insisted.  “I rather liked it.”

Ethne grinned.  “He is good with the simple recipes,” she admitted.  “It’s when things get complicated that he tends to run into problems.”

Chapter Six

However, value also depends on time and place.  If I may borrow a term from a good economics primer, the value of a bagful of gold is quite high in the world – but almost worse than useless on a desert island.  Would you rather have a bag of potatoes or gold on a desert island?  You could not eat the gold.
- Professor Leo Caesius.  The Science That Isn’t: Economics and the Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire.

Over the next two weeks, Sameena felt her life beginning to settle down into a routine that was both strange and comforting.  Her mornings were spent in front of the tutoring machine, working her way through educational programs she knew to be designed for children much younger than her, while her afternoons were spent gaining practical experience around the freighter.  Steve and James taught her a great deal about basic maintenance, while Brad taught her how to operate the helm console and Paddy taught her how to cook.  Most of what her mother had taught her was still relevant, but the technology he used added its own wrinkles.  The microwave alone would have revolutionised her life on Jannah if the technology had ever been imported.

“And to think that this technology actually predates space travel,” Paddy informed her, when she broke down and cried in the kitchen – the galley, as he called it.  “Your planet’s founders were fools.”

Once, she would have found such a statement insulting – if not outright blasphemous.  But after a week of reading as much as she could, she had the feeling that he was right.  Jannah’s founders had wanted to preserve their own power base as much as they had wanted to preserve their religion and they’d done it by banning most technology from their world.  If men and women had to work hard every day just to survive – and the schools taught rote learning rather than actual thought – there would be less opportunity for people to start to question the way things were.  And, if people did question, there were always the Guardians, ready to step in and remove the questioner before it was too late.  

The version of history she’d pulled out of the starship’s database had been far more complex than anything she’d learned on Jannah.  Jayne had been right; there were plenty of Islamic worlds in the galaxy, all claiming to be the sole possessor of the true faith.  Some of them didn't seem to differ from Jannah much, if at all; others seemed to embrace high technology or political and social innovations that threatened to turn the world upside down.  Who would ever have imagined a world that wasn’t governed by clerics?  Sameena hadn't ... until she’d realised that clerical worlds were in the minority.

“That’s what tends to happen,” Paddy told her, when she outlined her thoughts.  “The planet’s founders try to get away from the” – he held up his hands in makeshift quotation marks – “evil demon called technology.  And then their sons and daughters discover what their parents left behind and start demanding change – or simply emigrate in vast numbers, leaving the world behind to die on the vine.  It’s amazing how being forced to live rough convinces you that technology is actually a good thing.”

He smirked at her expression.  “You’d better get on with scrubbing the corridors,” he added, not unkindly.  “You’re going to be learning how to use a weapon later and I don’t want to have to wait for you because the XO insists that you do it again.”

Sameena nodded and headed down towards the engineering compartment, where the vacuum mops and other cleaning supplies were stored.  Everyone onboard took a turn scrubbing the corridors, she’d been told, along with cleaning out the pipes and several other duties that were thoroughly disgusting.  Sameena didn't mind it as much as Steve and James, both of whom had complained about it endlessly when their mother handed out a list of chores, but then she’d spent plenty of time scrubbing floors on Jannah.  The tools here made it much simpler to do the work.

She took a moment to check the berries as they floated within a nutrient solution.  Once they had explained to him what the berries were, Steve had rigged up a hydroponics compartment using some of the emergency supplies Imperial Law insisted that all starships carry.  Steve had explained that being able to force-grow algae for rations wasn't really a good idea at all – if they were stranded, they would probably grow old and die without hope of rescue – but the bureaucrats had insisted.  Sameena had heard enough about them to realise that they were just as bad as the clerics back on Jannah, without the excuse of serving God.

The berries were growing at surprising speed, as the instructions from Uncle Muhammad had promised.  Steve had suggested that they take the first harvest and use it to expand production, then start processing the berries into mead after they had enough to produce a few dozen bottles.  Captain Hamilton was still thinking about the best way to sell them onwards, but it would be several weeks before they had to come to any final decision.  Sameena took one last look, then hurried down to the supply cupboard.  Ethne was a strict supervisor and she didn't want to let her down.  

“You did well on your last set of tests,” Ethne said, as soon as Sameena appeared.  “How have you been getting along with everyone else?”

Sameena hesitated.  She’d grown to like everyone on the ship, although there were times when she was reminded just how different they were from her.  Paddy and Jayne seemed to have no shame; they kissed regularly in front of the entire crew.  Steve, meanwhile, had stripped to his shorts while working on the drives, embarrassing Sameena when she’d walked into the compartment and seen his bare chest.  And Brad seemed torn between being friendly and being unable to look at her without blushing.  

“I’m learning how to get along,” she said, finally.  She hadn't dared ask anyone, but a quick review of the database had produced files on culture shock.  It seemed to be a common problem in the Empire, particularly when dealing with isolated planets like Jannah.  The trader clans didn't seem to have any problems with it.  “But I have a long way to go.”

“Everyone speaks well of you,” Ethne said.  “Steve was very pleased with how precise you were with the machine tools.”

Sameena felt herself flushing.  It was good to think that her mother’s endless lessons in how to be a young lady had come in handy for something, even though her mother would have been horrified at where she was using them.  Precision and dedication had been important to her, Sameena knew, and she’d used them in working with Steve’s tools.

Ethne bounced other questions off her as she went to work, removing as much dust as she could from the deck.  Basic maintenance, Steve had told her time and time again, was the key to keeping the independent freighter functioning.  It was easier to prevent a problem from arising than deal with it once it was too late.  There were times when Sameena felt that she’d personally replaced every component on the ship twice over, although she knew that was absurd.  Logan was colossal.  It was strange to realise that there were other starships in the galaxy that made the medium freighter look tiny.  

“Your bargaining skills aren't too bad,” Ethne said, afterwards.  “All you really need is an appreciation for how much something ought to be worth.”

Sameena nodded.  Jannah had valued gold and silver ... and both were almost absurdly cheap in the Empire.  She’d puzzled over that until she’d realised that gold and silver – and other valuable metals – could be mined from asteroid belts.  HE3, on the other hand, was important almost everywhere, as it powered everything from starships to planet-side fusion plants.  It was tricky, sometimes, to figure out what was important – and would therefore bring a profit – and what was a waste of space.  In the right place, even canisters of oxygen could be worth a fortune.  

“I’ll be taking you to Madagascar, once we get you an ID card,” Ethne added.  “You can see the bargaining process for yourself.  The kids will complain, but ...”

“You don’t have to,” Sameena objected.  “They might deserve it more.”

“It’s your first chance to see somewhere away from your own planet,” Ethne pointed out.  “And besides, it isn't as if you have assignments to hand in ... is it?”

Sameena nodded.  Richard and Regina would be handing their assignments to the tutor at Madagascar when they finally arrived – and, if they did well, they would be allowed to visit the station rather than spending time rewriting their assignments.  They’d pointed out that Sameena, who was actually behind them despite being older, should be subject to the same rules.  Ethne hadn't bothered to say anything in response, apart from ordering the kids to carry on with their own assignments.

“Don’t worry,” Ethne added, dryly.  “We’ll get you some assignments while we’re there.”

She inspected Sameena’s work, then nodded.  “Very good,” she said.  “I believe that you have an appointment with Paddy?”

“Yes,” Sameena said.

“Take weapons training seriously,” Ethne warned.  “Anyone who fucks around with a weapon is lucky to live long enough to regret it.”

Sameena was still mulling over Ethne’s words when she entered the empty cargo hold that Paddy was using for training.  The kids grinned at her as they finished cleaning their weapons, then headed out of the hatch, chattering excitedly to each other.  Sameena felt an odd rush of affection as she watched them go – she’d always liked kids – before Paddy coughed, drawing her attention back to him.  He was holding a single metal box in his hands.

“It is possible to make a fantastically complex weapon,” he said, as he pressed his thumb against the sensor on the box.  “But we don’t use them.  Why?”

“Because the more complex a device is, the more likely that it will break down,” Sameena said.  Steve had told her pretty much the same thing when she’d been working on the ship’s internal systems.  Much of the technology actually predated spaceflight.  “The more things that can go wrong, the more likely that something will go wrong.”

“Steve does have such an elegant turn of phrase,” Paddy said, dryly.  He smiled, as if there was something he found funny.  “But he’s basically right.”

He opened the box and passed it to her.  It held a simple pistol, gleaming silver under the single light mounted overhead.  Sameena hesitated, feeling an odd sense of trepidation, and then touched the weapon with her fingers.  It felt reassuringly solid as she brushed her fingertips across the handle.

“There are several rules you need to bear in mind at all times when dealing with weapons,” Paddy said.  His eyes hardened suddenly.  “If you break any of them, you will not enjoy the consequences.  Do you understand me?”

Sameena nodded, wordlessly.

“Do not point your gun at anyone unless you mean to use it,” Paddy said, his eyes never leaving her face.  “Do not trust anyone to tell you anything about your gun.  Do not carry your gun off the ship without checking the local laws first.  And do not give it to anyone else, unless there is no other choice.

“The gun has no mind of its own,” he added.  “You, the bearer, are the one who will determine what it does, either deliberately or through fucking up.  You are the one who will be held responsible for whatever it does.  So be careful!”

He pulled the weapon out of the box and held it in front of Sameena’s face.  “This is the safety,” he said.  “When on, the gun will not fire.  Make sure you keep the safety on unless you actually intend to use the gun.  I’ve known people do themselves a serious injury through jamming the gun into the holster – or their pockets – without bothering to click the safety on first.  Bear that in mind at all times.

“The gun needs to be taken apart, cleaned and then put back together regularly,” he continued.  “Make sure you do it every day; if the gun gets jammed up, it will be unable to fire.  Or it might explode in your hand.”

Paddy scowled.  “The Army claims that this particular brand can take a great deal of  mistreatment before it is rendered unserviceable.  They’re right, I suppose, but people who take care of their weapons can expect their weapons to take care of them.”

Sameena sat down on the deck and carefully took the weapon apart, following his instructions.  It was actually simple, compared to some of the components Steve had made her dismantle for practice; she oiled the interior and then put the gun back together again.  Paddy passed her a clip of ammunition, then caught her hand before she could start loading it into the gun.  Sameena winced in pain at his grip.

“You have the gun pointed at your leg,” he said, releasing her.  “Be careful.”

She flushed, then loaded the gun.  It felt deadlier, somehow, with ammunition loaded into the weapon.  She touched the safety, smiling inwardly.  The Guardians would be horrified if they saw a woman holding a gun.  Women – and most men - were barred from all means of self-defence on Jannah.  

“That’s the target,” Paddy said, pointing towards the silhouette at the far end of the compartment.  “Take aim and shoot him.”

Sameena lifted the gun, took aim and pulled the trigger.  It clicked.

Paddy laughed at her embarrassment.  “Take off the safety,” he reminded her, dryly.  “And then try to learn how to do it quickly.”

This time, the weapon jerked in her hand and produced a deafening sound.  She saw a spark where the bullet had struck the far bulkhead, missing the target by several metres.  Paddy patiently corrected her and told her to fire again.  This time, she hit the target in the arm.

“It takes time to master a handgun enough to shoot accurately,” Paddy said, when she had run through the whole clip.  “We shall be practicing every second day.”

He took back the weapon, removed the empty clip and then passed it back to her to clean.

“The Empire has a blanket ban on civilians owning weapons in the Core Worlds,” Paddy lectured, as Sameena took the weapon apart for the second time.  “Outside the Core, the laws tend to differ depending on where you are.  Keeping the weapon on the ship is almost always legal, but there are places where you cannot take it off the ship without special permits.  If you are caught carrying a weapon there, they’ll ship you off to a penal colony faster than you can blink.”

He snorted.  “Not that it really works,” he added.  “There are enough illegal weapons on Earth to keep a revolution going for years.

“You need to research the laws thoroughly if you intend to go planet-side,” he warned.  “The first-stage colony worlds tend to permit hunting rifles and pistols, but frown on anything military-grade.  There’s a balance between making sure that the settlers can defend themselves from wild animals and not defend themselves from tax collectors.”

He shook his head.  “And there are corporate sponsored worlds where weapons are banned completely.  They know that an armed population will rise up against them at once.”

Sameena frowned.  “My homeworld banned weapons too,” she said.

“Probably afraid that someone would start shooting at your Guardians,” Paddy said.  He took back the weapon and examined it with a cynical eye, then nodded and put it back in the case.  “They tend to disguise it behind concern for public safety, but that’s the usual motive.”

He snorted.  “You can take the weapon with you when you go to Madagascar,” he explained, “but you need to be careful.  If you punch a hole through the walls, they’ll put you through it before they seal it up.  Or worse.”

Sameena nodded.  She’d looked up the Empire’s laws – and then the simpler laws written for colonies that rarely saw an Imperial Navy starship.  Most of them were brutally simple; a murderer was executed, a thief spent a lifetime on a penal world ... or indentured servitude.  It didn't seem a very pleasant life.

“I shall be expecting your shooting to match the kids in a month,” he concluded.  “Believe me, you will need to carry a weapon in places.”

“Thank you,” Sameena said.

He passed her the case.  “Keep it in your cabin, but remember what I said about responsibility,” he said.  “Clean it every day.  And don’t practice shooting without someone else to supervise – one of the adults.  The XO came very close to strangling the kids after they started to practice on their own and then claimed that they were supervising each other.”

“I won’t do that,” Sameena promised.  “Besides, I don't have any ammunition.”

Paddy’s lips quirked into a smile.  “You’d be surprised by how many recruits manage to miss that,” he said.  “All those idiotic war movies show the characters possessing unlimited ammunition so they can fire madly towards the enemy.  It doesn't work like that in real life.”

He passed her a pair of clips, then pushed her gently towards the hatch.  “You’d better go catch some sleep,” he ordered.  “You’ll be helping me cook tonight.  Unless you want to do it yourself ...?”

Sameena made a face.  “I think you’d better be there to supervise,” she said.  There had been no way to know that putting metal in the microwave was asking for trouble ... at least until Paddy had pointed it out, sarcastically.  It had been sparking like mad when she’d pulled it out.  “I am not quite ready for it yet.”

Paddy snorted.  “They’ll love your cooking,” he told her.  “Besides, if they ever tasted military rations, they’d praise mine to the skies.”

Chapter Seven

This can be clearly seen with a cursory glance into the past.  Salt, now so commonplace, was once used as a currency by the Roman Empire (and other states of that era.)  Aluminium was once hideously expensive; now, it is almost worthless.  The claim that the Prophet Muhammad was promised seventy-two raisins rather than virgins, which seems laughable on the surface, actually makes a great deal of sense.  Raisins would have been immensely valuable to a merchant like Muhammad.  
- Professor Leo Caesius.  The Science That Isn’t: Economics and the Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire.  

The inky darkness of Phase Space suddenly flared with light, then dimmed down to show a starfield outside the starship’s hull.  Sameena caught her breath as she realised that she was seventeen light years from Jannah, far away enough that the light of the planet’s star originated from a time before she had been born.  It was a concept she would never have understood – or even realised existed – before stowing away on the freighter.

“Local space seems empty, Captain,” Brad said.  “Picking up beacons from Madagascar, dead ahead.”

Captain Hamilton smiled.  “Shoot them our beacon,” he ordered.  “And then take us in towards the station.”

Sameena settled back into her chair and watched as Brad worked his console.  Space travel seemed to be both very fast and very slow, even though she knew that they were moving fast enough to circle Jannah within seconds.  It would still take the ship hours to travel deeper into the system and match orbits with Madagascar.  She pulled up the system display on her terminal and studied it with interest.  Madagascar was a far more interesting star system than Jannah.

There was no Earth-like world in the system, merely a Mars-like world where genetically-engineered lichen and other modified crops were slowly attempting to turn the barren world into a garden spot.  The terraforming process, according to the files she'd read, had been underway for nearly two hundred years and would take at least another five hundred more, unless the Empire chose to make an additional investment in the system.  Instead, it seemed that the settlers were content to wait.  There was no shortage of Earth-like worlds in the sector that didn’t need extensive terraforming before settlement.  

Madagascar itself was a large moon orbiting a gas giant, which was surrounded by a handful of cloudscoops, industrial nodes and an Imperial Navy shipyard.  Sameena found herself studying the cloudscoops with considerable interest as the freighter approached the moon; she knew, from her research, that the cloudscoops underpinned the interstellar economy.  A dozen large ships she recognised as tankers were heading away from the gas giant as they approached, escorted by a handful of smaller ships.  Pirates, according to Captain Hamilton, had been growing bolder in the last few years, pressing attacks against isolated colony worlds and starships travelling independently.  A HE3 tanker would be a valuable prize.

“Steer us towards Orbit Three,” Captain Hamilton ordered.  “We’ll have to see what sort of contract we can find here.”

Sameena frowned, inwardly.  Logan hadn't taken much from Jannah, apart from a handful of sealed crates that were intended to be passed on to a shipping agent unopened.  She had a suspicion she knew what was in the crates, but Captain Hamilton had told her that they weren’t allowed to open them or they might be sued.  There would be a flat fee for delivery and little else.  Perhaps they really needed to sell some of the mead.  But producing it was going to be difficult.

Orbit Three came into view.  Sameena stared, her brain unable to quite process what it was seeing.  The orbital station was a massive rock, studded with domes and long struts that reached out towards incoming freighters.  Hundreds of tiny lights bustled around the structure; it took her a moment to realise that they were shuttles, going to and from the moon below.  Some of the struts were attached to freighters, she saw as they came closer; others were empty, just waiting for someone to arrive.  

“We have permission to dock,” Ethne said, softly.  “Captain?”

“Take us in,” her husband ordered.  “Gently, if you please.”

Sameena barely felt the faint quiver that ran through the ship as they docked with the station.  There was a flicker of discomfort as the artificial gravity field adjusted itself to match the field inside the station, then nothing.  The omnipresent thrumming echoing through the ship slowly faded away to nothingness.  Oddly, it’s absence made her feel uncomfortable.  

“Good work,” Captain Hamilton said.  “I shall see to the transhipment of our goods.  Ethne, if you would care to take Sameena ...”

“That isn’t fair,” Richard protested.  Like Sameena, he and his sister had been invited to watch as the ship came into port.  “She didn't complete her assignments.”

Captain Hamilton gave him a stern look.  “And yours, I trust, are perfect?”

Richard reddened, but said nothing.

“Besides, she has yet to start properly,” Ethne added.  She looked over at Sameena.  “Keep the shipsuit on, but wear the clothes you brought from your homeworld over it.  Luckily, no one here is likely to recognise your point of origin as long as you don’t wear the scarf.”

Sameena nodded, hiding her embarrassment.  She knew that she was supposed to wear a headscarf when near an unrelated man – and there were six unrelated men on the freighter – but she’d given up after the second day.  Now ... the thought of not wearing it made her cringe, yet she didn't have a choice.  She didn't want to be publically identified as a refugee from anywhere.  

“And take your pistol,” Paddy added.  “Madagascar allows open carry, but be careful you don’t shoot the wrong person.”

“I won’t,” Sameena assured him.

She went back to her cabin, pulled the clothes she’d brought from Jannah out of her drawer and peered at them.  Compared to what Jayne wore, they were almost ridiculously covering ... but they still felt comfortable.  She dressed quickly, then walked down to the airlock.  Ethne was already standing there, holding a terminal in her hand.

“Don’t say a word, unless you get asked a direct question,” she warned, as she started to open the airlock.  “Stick to the script, if you do get asked something – anything.  Madagascar generally minds its own business, but sometimes there are changes.”

She led the way through the airlock, down a long tube that seemed dangerously fragile, and through a second airlock.  The smell struck Sameena as soon as the airlock hissed open, a strange mixture of unwashed humans, spices, alien cooking and plenty of other smells she couldn't quite identify.  She remembered what she’d been told about everywhere smelling differently, particularly to newcomers, but it was still hard to take a deep breath.  Inside, Ethne spoke briefly to a black-uniformed man and then walked past him.  The man gave her a sidelong glance as she passed, but said nothing.

“Madagascar doesn't have much of a permanent population on the surface, despite the presence of the cloudscoops,” Ethne explained, as they walked down a long corridor.  “Most of the inhabitants prefer to live in orbit.”

They reached the end of the corridor.  Sameena stopped, dead.  Ahead of them was a tangled mass of tiny stalls, shops built into the walls ... and thousands of people, walking around in hundreds of different clothing styles.  There were women who were completely topless, men wearing clothes so bright that it hurt her eyes to look at them ... one man seemed to be dressed in living snakes and little else.  One of the topless woman caught her eye and winked at her; Sameena flushed and shrank back behind Ethne.  The sight was completely overwhelming.  

A man and a woman walked past her, wearing drab clothes.  There was something wrong with their faces, she realised, but she couldn't see what until the woman turned slightly, revealing that she had pointy ears.  Sameena stared; she’d researched body-modification technology, back when she’d realised what it could do for her, but pointy ears seemed a little extreme.  

“They’re a ... religious sect,” Ethne explained, when Sameena asked.  “Dedicated to the principles of pure logic and absolute emotional control.  It’s quite rare to see them this far from their homeworld.”

Sameena found herself looking back at the pair.  “And they do that to themselves deliberately?”

Ethne shrugged.  “The changes to their ears – and a few others intended to make life on their homeworld more bearable – are actually quite minor,” she said.  “There are others who are far more extreme.  I know a world that is inhabited by mermen and mermaids, humans with fishy tails and a thoroughly weird outlook on life.”

“I don’t believe it,” Sameena said.  “You’re pulling my leg.”

“Go look it up,” Ethne said.  She gave Sameena a thin-lipped smile.  “I’ve always found it useful never to underestimate the limits of human stupidity.”

She led Sameena forward into the mass of stalls.  Sameena looked around, seeing men and women who were huge and others who were tiny; she would have thought they were children if they hadn't looked physically mature.  Some had white, black, brown or yellow skins; others seemed to have gifted themselves with biologically impossible skin tones.  One man, with bright blue skin, seemed to be arguing loudly with another man over the price of foodstuffs at his stall.

There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the stalls, she realised as they moved deeper into the crush.  Food stalls – her stomach rumbled as she smelled something hot and spicy – were right next to stalls that sold clothes or weapons.  One large stall was crammed with weapons, ranging from pistols like the one Paddy had given her to massive weapons that were taller than Sameena herself.  Behind the weapons, there were walking suits of armour, all pitted and scarred from years of active service.  She felt herself flushing as she saw one suit of armour with very prominent breasts, suggesting that whoever had ordered it was larger than Jayne.

“In here,” Ethne said, pulling her towards a wall.  There was a door half-concealed behind a large clothing store.  “You and Jayne can go clothes shopping later.”

The racket behind them faded away as the door closed with a loud thud.  Sameena frowned as she saw the darkened corridor, blocked by two of the oversized red-skinned men.  They didn't seem to be carrying any weapons, but their clenched fists seemed larger than her head.  She had a feeling that if she shot one of them he probably wouldn't notice.

“We’re here to see Jack,” Ethne said, briskly.  If she was intimidated by the men, she didn't show it.  “I think he knows who we are.”

There was a long pause – long enough for Sameena to realise that the men were using some form of communication system to talk to their superiors – and then they stepped aside, motioning for Ethne and Sameena to walk past them.  Ethne led Sameena down the corridor and through a door that opened as they approached.  Inside, a man with a curiously immobile face sat at a desk facing them.

“Be seated,” he said.  His voice was flatter than the standard voice produced by the tutoring machine.  “Madame Hamilton.  What can I do for you?”

“We need a set of false ID papers,” Ethne said.  She motioned to Sameena.  “Something that will suffice for the nonce.”

Jack’s gaze shifted to Sameena and she had to fight not to look away.  His eyelids were completely missing, rendering his stare truly terrifying.  She couldn't understand how he could sleep without being able to close his eyes.  

“That should be doable, provided that she has no record,” Jack said.  He looked back at Ethne.  “Does she have a record?”

“No,” Ethne said, flatly.  “There should be no record of her birth outside her homeworld.”

“A black colony, then,” Jack said.  He picked up a terminal and peered down at it.  “I’ll give her residency papers from the Lumpur Cluster.  They send hundreds of people to the Empire every year, so that won't raise any eyebrows.  That can be leveraged into getting her an Empire-standard ID card.  There’s nothing particularly special about her genotype, is there?”

“Just a little hackwork,” Ethne said.  “Nothing specific to her homeworld.”

“Good,” Jack said.  He gave Sameena a creepy smile, then passed her the terminal.  “Press your fingertips against the indicated places.”

Sameena obeyed, then passed the terminal back to him.

“Good,” he said.  There was a brief pause.  “No trace of your fingerprints or DNA code in the Imperial Criminal Database.”  He looked over at Ethne.  “Did you bring the other documents?”

Ethne produced a datachip from her pocket and dropped it on the table.  “Medical profile, starship schedules, guardianship and sponsor records, a handful of educational certificates from a Class-A rated machine.  We plan to get more of them this week.”

“Educational certificates aren’t that important,” Jack said, dismissively.  He looked back at Sameena.  “Come back in two days to pick up your documents.  Welcome to the Empire.”

Ethne didn't say anything until they were back onboard the freighter.  “Jack isn't exactly cheap, but he’s the best in the business,” she explained.  “I think it would be better not to have to answer too many questions about where we actually picked you up.  Given our flight path over the last two years, it would be difficult for someone to pick holes in your story.  As long as you don't try to lie too blatantly, it should be safe enough.”

She paused.  “We listed ourselves as your guardians” – she looked apologetic as Sameena flinched at the word – “and sponsors.  Try not to get in trouble, as we will be liable for everything you do.  It’s basically the same arrangement as we have with the kids, but you don’t have anyone else to speak for you.  So be careful.”

“Thank you,” Sameena said, giving Ethne a hug.  “But ... why did he think I was a criminal?”

“You’re not the only person who might want a false ID,” Ethne pointed out, rather dryly.  “If you’d had a criminal record, Jack would have had to work harder to ensure that there was nothing to encourage a suspicious customs officer to carry out a more thorough check.  As it is, you’re clean, just unregistered.  Which would have made life difficult for you if you wanted to find a job without registering.”

Sameena frowned.  She could, in theory, apply for asylum, but a careful review of the databases had exposed the problems with that approach.  The Imperial Navy might view her as underage, and therefore not considered capable of making decisions for herself, or they might conclude that local law held priority and return her to Jannah.  Even if they allowed her to stay on Madagascar or another colony, she had no qualifications they would recognise, ensuring that she would be doomed to eternal poverty.  Or be forced to join a colony mission to a low-tech world.  

“Thank you,” she said, again.  It was funny how quickly she’d lost her respect for the law ... what little respect she’d had in the first place, she had to admit.  If she’d respected her homeworld’s law, she would never have striven to learn what her father had been trying to teach her.  “But how do we know he won’t betray us?”

“Too many people would want him dead if he spoke the name of even one of his clients,” Ethne explained.  “And he has an implant in his skull that will kill him if it thinks he’s being interrogated.  He’s as trustworthy as a forger and hacker ever gets.”

She sobered.  “Which isn't very far, really.”

Sameena shivered.  “What do we do now?”

Ethne smiled, nastily.  “You have a couple of days, which I would suggest you spend with the tutoring machine,” she said.  “The tutor on Madagascar will want to examine you personally once you have the papers, so you can prepare for your exams.  Unless Steve wants you ... he has some components he was talking about stripping out and replacing, assuming that we can find the money to pay for them.  Costs of spare parts keep going upwards.”

Sameena scowled.  “Why?”

“There’s a shortage, of course,” Ethne said.  She nodded as they reached Sameena’s cabin.  “Have a nap, then join us for dinner tonight.  We’ll be bringing food back from Madagascar rather than cooking for ourselves, which should be a relief.”

“Anyone would think that you don’t like my cooking,” Sameena said, deadpan.  Part of her felt a little insulted.  Paddy had allowed her to take over the cooking full time one week away from Madagascar.  “I do try to cook well.”

“But there are limits to what you can do with the equipment on hand,” Ethne said.  “I used to cook myself.  It’s a very useful skill, but you don’t get high-class meals in space unless you happen to travel on a luxury liner.  And that costs more money than most people make in their entire lives.”

Sameena nodded, then stepped into her cabin and picked up her terminal.  This time, a new icon appeared on the screen when she clicked it on, inviting her to access the datanet binding Madagascar together.  Carefully, she accessed the network and downloaded a list of prices from the seven main distribution companies in the system.  Ethne had been right, she realised grimly.  Prices were going up.  She’d thought about using the money on her Credit Coin to fund the purchases, but it was clear that she simply didn't have enough.  Not if she wanted to pay Jack too.  

“That’s interesting,” she mused to herself, as she started asking questions.  The basic laws of economics should be the same on Madagascar as they were on Jannah, even if the two worlds were completely dissimilar.  “Now, where do the spare parts actually come from?”

Slowly, very slowly, the germ of an idea started to form in her mind.  

Chapter Eight

The foundations of basic economies rested on the barter system, which might operate through a cobbler (shoe-maker) exchanging a pair of shoes with the blacksmith, in exchange for the blacksmith producing his tools.  The blacksmith might also have an understanding with the local butcher, who would give the blacksmith some meat in exchange for the knives he used to cut up the animals.  And so on.  
- Professor Leo Caesius.  The Science That Isn’t: Economics and the Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire.  

Two days later, she sat back from the terminal with a sigh of relief.

“Congratulations,” Professor Sorrel said.  He was an elderly man with an air of fussy precision that reminded Sameena of the clerics back on Jannah.  “You have completed the placement exams.  Welcome to the program.”

He held out a hand.  After a moment’s hesitation, Sameena took it and they shook hands.

“I shall work out a lesson plan for you this afternoon and relay it to your ship,” he continued.  “You will be expected to turn in essays and reports upon your return to Madagascar or another associated port, which will be marked by myself or one of the other tutors.  This chip” – he pulled a datachip out of his pocket and passed it to her – “contains specific information for your guardian and for any other tutors, should you be unable to return.  I should warn you that accessing it yourself will be considered cheating.”

“Thank you,” Sameena said, sincerely.  The Professor might have watched her like a hawk as she struggled to answer some of the more complex questions, but he also treated her as a genuine student, not a girl pretending to be a boy.  Or one who was overstepping her place.  “I won’t look at it myself.”

The Professor smiled, slightly.  “Asking someone else to look at it and tell you the answers is also considered cheating,” he said.  “But your guardian has done a good job in the past.”

Looking after Richard and Regina, Sameena guessed.  But then, all of the Captain’s children had been homeschooled, rather than exposed to the tender mercies of the Imperial Education Service.  From what she’d heard, the IES was even less inclined to actually teach than the clerics on Jannah.  

“I’ll see you when you next return to Madagascar,” the Professor concluded.  “Send in the next person on your way out.”

Sameena nodded and exited the examination room through an airlock that looked reassuringly solid.  Orbit Three was honeycombed with airlocks and other emergency measures, ensuring that a disaster wouldn't kill everyone onboard.  Steve had pointed out, rather darkly, that a single nuke could shatter the entire asteroid, then assigned her an essay on how Orbit One was poorly designed.  It had taken her several hours to work out that the asteroid’s life support systems were actually several separate systems jammed together.  

Outside, there were a handful of other students – and Jayne.  Sameena glanced at the students, feeling an odd sense of relief that some of them were older than her, then looked over at the ship’s doctor.  Jayne stood up, hooked her arm through Sameena’s arm and then led her out of the compartment.  It was quieter in this part of the asteroid, but Sameena could still hear the sound of people talking echoing through the corridors.  

“Mum says that I am to take you clothes shopping,” Jayne said, before Sameena could say a word.  “And then take a look at whatever else you might want in the stalls.”

Sameena hesitated.  “I don’t know how long my cash will last ...”

Jayne snorted and passed her a Credit Coin.  “You were paid standard wages for a very junior crewwoman,” she said.  “Didn’t dad tell you?”

“No,” Sameena said, looking down at the Credit Coin.  It proclaimed her to have a balance of four thousand credits.  “I didn't know ...”

“He probably assumed that you knew,” Jayne said, crossly.  “There are centuries of tradition that state that a ship’s commander is not allowed to advise his crew about how to spend or save their money.  For example, you could take out insurance if you wanted – or save the money in the local bank, or spend it on just about anything.  Teaching the kids is one thing, but pushing an adult ...”

She shook her head.  “I’ll ask mum to go over that with you later,” she added.  She shot Sameena an inquisitive look.  “I wonder how much else we take for granted that will be new and strange to you.”

“This asteroid,” Sameena said.  There were times when she realised just how alien the whole environment was, at least to someone who had spent their whole lifetime on a planet’s surface.  “And much else, I’m sure.”

“Don’t be afraid to ask,” Jayne said.  “There’s a healthy tradition of self-reliance too, but you don’t have to be stupid about it.”

Sameena mulled it over as she followed the doctor down the corridor and into one of the larger marketplaces.  The noise grew louder the moment they stepped through the airlock; she looked towards the source and saw a handful of men playing instruments in one corner, producing a deafening racket.  It sounded like one of the songs the kids listened to when they were off duty.  Sameena had listened once and decided that she didn't like it.

“One of the touring bands,” Jayne muttered, by way of explanation.  “It’s pretty hard for anyone to get famous away from their homeworld, unless they travel so often that they can outrun the bootleggers.  Someone probably called in a favour and arranged for them to play for the Imperial Navy ships in the system.”

She led Sameena away from the band and down towards a large stall, covered in fancy silk that provided some privacy.  Inside, there seemed to be endless racks of clothes, ranging from basic tunics and dresses to underwear that made Sameena blush.  An overweight woman, standing at the entrance, nodded to them both as they entered, then studied Sameena with frank interest.  

“My sister needs a new outfit or two,” Jayne said, shortly.  “Some basic stuff for onboard wear, a couple of fancy dresses and suchlike.  What do you have that might suit her?”

The woman smiled.  “I’ll have to measure her first,” she said.  “And then we can see what we have.”

“Take a note of your measurements,” Jayne ordered, as the woman started to measure Sameena’s body.  “We can save some time if we have to go elsewhere.”

Sameena had never been very fond of clothes shopping, even though it had been one of the few legitimate excuses for young girls to be out of the house.  She had known that no one was likely to see her in anything new, apart from her family – and her husband, when she was finally pushed into marriage.  Now ... part of her was intrigued by the possibility of new clothes.  Others would be seeing her in them for the first time.

“You don’t want anything too complex for onboard wear,” Jayne said.  She held up a loose tunic that could be worn over the shipsuit.  “This wouldn't be too bad, as long as you wore a utility belt with it so you could carry your tools and terminal.”

Sameena nodded, reluctantly.  It would make a change from wearing the coat over the shipsuit, without showing off too much of her body.  On the other hand, it didn't look very new.

“They never do,” Jayne said.  She grinned.  “Everyone wears shabby clothes onboard ship, apart from dad.  He thinks he has to look dignified.”

“A regular delusion,” the storekeeper said.  “Get undressed and try the outfit on.”

“No,” Sameena said, quickly.  “I can’t ...”

Jayne pulled the woman aside and whispered briefly in her ear.  Sameena couldn't hear what she said to her, but the woman nodded, threw her a sympathetic look and then pulled the curtain over the entrance.  No one could see inside without making it obvious.  

“Better do it now,” Jayne said.  “You won’t be able to come back if they don’t fit.”

Sameena hesitated, then undressed slowly.  The woman’s gaze was cold and clinical, but Sameena still felt uncomfortable as she pulled on the outfit.  When she was dressed, she looked in the mirror.  She had to admit that it was suitable for wearing on a daily basis.

“We’ll take it,” Jayne said, as Sameena undressed again.  “And now for something fancier.”

The woman held up a pair of shorts and a halter top, like the one Jayne wore.  Sameena took one look and shook her head, firmly.  Her breasts might not be anything like as big as Jayne’s, but she would still be showing them off if she wore the top.  And most of her legs ...

“You do have nice legs,” Jayne said, deadpan.  “It would be a shame not to show them off.”

Sameena felt her face redden.  “I don't want to be so ... immodest,” she admitted, shaking her head.  “I couldn't walk around like you.”

Jayne snorted with honest amusement.  “You’re naked under the clothes,” she pointed out, snidely.

Sameena rolled her eyes, recognising the terrible joke.  “I couldn't be like that,” she said.  “I just ... can’t.”

All of her life, she had been taught that a woman was meant to cover everything, but her face and hands in the presence of unrelated men.  Some households on Jannah had even insisted that their womenfolk be covered completely, leaving them hidden behind layers of all-enveloping cloth.  Now, having been exposed to a society that thought nothing of women – or men – walking around naked, she still couldn't do it for herself.  It left her feeling far too vulnerable.

“Try this,” the storekeeper suggested, holding up a long red dress.  “I may have to take the hem in for you, but it should be modest.”

Sameena pulled the dress over her head and then peered into the mirror.  It was tighter than she wanted around her waist, but otherwise suitable.  Her breasts were faintly outlined without being so clear that she might as well be naked.  She brushed a hand through her hair and smiled at her reflection.  

“Suits you,” Jayne said, after a moment’s contemplation.  “I dare say that Brad will like it too.”

The storekeeper smiled.  “Is there a young man in your future?  You’ll need some proper underwear for him ...”

Sameena cringed.

“Perhaps,” Jayne said, quickly.  “But we’re not here for special underwear or anything else, apart from a couple of outfits.”

“Shame,” the storekeeper said.  “I have a special offer on underwear that slowly becomes translucent as you become excited and ...”

She pulled another dress off the rack and passed it to Sameena, who tried it on.  It was green, but otherwise identical to the first dress.  A third dress proved to be a little tighter than she would have preferred, yet when she looked in the mirror she was tempted to keep it.  The fourth dress seemed to be almost transparent, revealing far too much ...

“You need black underwear for that dress,” Jayne said.  “But it does make you look great.”

Sameena shrugged as she pulled it off.  “We’ll take the others,” she said, firmly.  “But that one is too revealing.”

Jayne nodded and picked up a selection of basic underwear.  “Take this too,” she said, seriously.  “Even with the shipsuit, it can be good to have it too.”

The storekeeper totted up the bill while Sameena pulled her original clothes back on.  “Five hundred credits, the lot,” the storekeeper said, finally.  “Plus fifty credits for minor modifications.”

Sameena scowled.  That was a sizable percentage of her wages.  

“Bargain,” Jayne hissed.

“One hundred credits,” Sameena said, wishing that she knew more about the specifics of clothing prices.  Maybe they should have looked in the other stalls before buying.  “And ten for modifications.”

“The modifications are a flat rate,” the storekeeper said.  “But I can offer you three hundred credits for the clothes.”

Sameena had watched her father bargaining with his customers.  A sudden drop in price suggested that the cost had been inflated, she remembered.  Two hundred credits was hardly a small amount.  But had it reached the limits of what the storekeeper could reasonably give her or was she still trying to gouge out a additional profit?

“Two hundred credits for the clothes,” she said, finally.  She tried to read the storekeeper’s face, but it seemed completely expressionless.  “And you can have the fifty for the modifications.”

“Done,” the storekeeper said.

Sameena looked at Jayne, unable to escape the feeling that she was still paying more than she should, even after stripping out three hundred credits from the final bill.  Jayne shrugged, then nodded.  Sameena took out her new Credit Coin and gave it to the storekeeper, who pushed it against her own coin.  There was a moment’s pause and then she passed the conjoined coins back to Sameena.

“Push your finger against the reader,” Jayne explained.  “Then verify the amount and then let it scan your finger again.”

There was a bleep as it processed the transaction.  “I’ll have the clothes ready for you to pick up this afternoon,” the storekeeper said, as she passed Sameena a receipt.  “If you need them repaired in future, I do a discount rate if you purchase something else from my stall.”

“Thank you,” Jayne said.

Sameena looked up at her as they walked away.  “How did I do?”

“You didn't get bilked too badly,” Jayne said, after a moment.  “Two hundred and fifty credits gives her some profit, so she’s happy, without overcharging you too badly.”

“Thank you,” Sameena said.  She frowned, then asked the question that had been bothering her for some time.  “Why does everyone assume that I am going to marry Brad?”

“You did offer to marry him,” Jayne reminded her.  “It is tradition for someone who wants to join the crew permanently to marry into it, if they don’t already have blood ties.  That’s how Paddy joined us.”

Sameena hesitated, unsure of what to say.  Back home, she would have been pushed into marriage eventually ... and she would have been lucky if she’d been allowed to meet the groom before their wedding day.  But onboard ship ... in truth, she liked Brad, but she didn't want to marry him.  Or to commit herself to anyone.

Jayne seemed to sense her confusion.  “Listen,” she said, placing a hand on Sameena’s shoulder, “you don’t have to marry him – you can marry Steve instead.”

It took Sameena a moment to realise that Jayne was teasing her.  Steve was closer to her age than Brad, but he seemed to be wedded to his engines.  Indeed, while she’d seen Brad staring at her when he thought she wasn't looking, Steve had shown little interest in her as a woman at all.  Did he have someone on another ship, waiting for him?

“More seriously,” Jayne continued, “if you don’t want to marry or date anyone, you don’t have to.  If Brad ever works up the nerve to ask you out, just say no.  Mum will kill him if he makes unwanted advances.”

She hesitated.  For a moment, she almost looked embarrassed.  “You don’t know anything about biology,” she added.  “I think you should look it up before doing anything with anyone.”

Sameena felt herself flushing.  One of the movie files she’d accessed on Logan had shown a man and a woman having sex.  She’d stared in horror, then deactivated the terminal, despite the strange temptation to keep watching.  Later, she’d worked out which entertainment files were pornography and gave them a wide berth.  

They stopped in a small cafe to have lunch – as she’d been told, the food on the asteroid was considerably better than the food on the freighter – and then wandered through the marketplace, looking for anything interesting.  Jayne seemed to take an unholy delight in pointing out anything that Sameena might find shocking, including a brothel and a stall that sold sex drugs and toys.  Sameena hadn't wanted to know that drugs to improve male potency were cheap and easy to produce, or that she could buy a toy shaped like a penis and use it to give herself pleasure.  Or, for that matter, that a simple implant could give her a jolt of pleasure every time she pushed a button.

“People can get addicted to that,” Jayne said, darkly.  “It doesn't do any physical harm, unlike some of the other drugs, but it creates a psychological dependency that can be completely destructive.  I’ve known people to waste away, begging for enough money to buy themselves another boost.”

Sameena frowned.  “Why isn't it banned?”

“Most of the people out here on the Rim don’t give two shits about what the Grand Senate thinks,” Jayne admitted.  “They don’t know what it’s like to be living out here.  If someone wants to jolt themselves into a stupor  ... no one will care as long as no one else is hurt.”

She shook her head.  “But it is a waste of life,” she added.  “Once addicted, they are unable to break free without outside help.”

They reached a stall heaving under the weight of hundreds of paperback books.  Sameena found herself smiling as she picked up a book with a lurid cover, remembering the feel of the books in her father’s study.  The cover showed a man carrying a gun, with a naked woman clinging to his legs, while giant spacecraft flew overhead.  Judging by the comment on the front cover, the publisher thought that it was great literature.  

“Books are quite expensive out here,” Jayne explained.  “Normally, everyone reads from their terminals, rather than buying a book.  Data files are cheap.”

Sameena nodded, then looked for something she could stand to read.

She was still looking when Jayne’s wristcom buzzed.  “Jayne,” Ethne said, “escort Sameena to the negotiation block.  I have someone I want her to meet.”

“Understood,” Jayne said.  She closed the channel and looked over at Sameena.  “Don’t get too excited, but it sounds as if my mother has found us work.”

Chapter Nine

However, such a system is inherently limited.  The cobbler might not be able to convince the butcher that the butcher needs a pair of shoes, ensuring that the cobbler cannot obtain any meat.  With only one thing to trade, his ability to obtain products from others is limited.  He might be able to convince the blacksmith to serve as a third party – shoes to the blacksmith, knives to the butcher, meat to the blacksmith and then to the cobbler – but the system would become very clunky.  A new means of exchange is required.
- Professor Leo Caesius.  The Science That Isn’t: Economics and the Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire.  

The negotiation block proved to be a tiny handful of offices buried deep within the asteroid where – according to Jayne – freighter commanders and those who wanted to make use of their services could meet in conditions of strict neutrality.  It was guarded by five oversized men – heavy-worlders, Jayne explained – who checked Sameena’s ID before allowing her to enter.  Jayne waved her goodbye, then headed back to the marketplace.  She’d already promised to pick up Sameena’s new clothes.

Inside, Ethne was standing next to a young man wearing the Imperial Navy’s black uniform.  He was a Lieutenant, Sameena realised – Paddy had made her memorise the different ways to tell a person’s rank – but he seemed far too young, as if he were dressing up in his father’s uniform.  But the existence of rejuvenation treatments ensured that he might easily be twice Sameena’s age and look younger.  Indeed, apart from the blonde hair and pale skin, he reminded her of Abdul when he’d been fourteen years old.

“Sameena,” Ethne said, beckoning her over.  “This is Lieutenant James Cook ...”

“Jamie, please,” Cook said.  His voice was softer than Sameena had expected, as if he were truly fourteen years old.  He nodded to her instead of offering to shake hands.  “It’s a pleasure to meet someone new.”

“Thank you,” Sameena said.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.”

Cook gave her a charming smile, then looked over at Ethne.  “And Sameena is ...?”

“My adopted daughter – at least for the moment – and apprentice,” Ethne said.  “I thought that she should sit in on the negotiations.”

“I can't see any harm in it,” Cook said.  He led them over to a small table and motioned for them to sit down.  “You drink tea?”

Ethne laughed.  “It is socially impossible to not drink tea when dealing with the Imperial Navy,” she said.  “Of course I drink tea.”

Sameena frowned, confused.

“There’s a long-standing tradition that the Imperial Navy drinks tea, while the ground-pounders drink coffee,” Cook explained, seeing her puzzlement.  “It’s complete nonsense, of course, but we just can't get away from it.”

He picked up a tray containing a kettle, three mugs and a small jug of milk and put it down on the table.  “There are traditions that tell us how to serve it,” he added, “but I’m not going to bother.  Besides, this place doesn't bother to buy real tea leaves to flavour its water.”

Sameena looked over at Ethne.  “Is there an opportunity there?”

“Maybe,” Cook answered, before Ethne could say a word.  “But I wouldn't expect too much outside the navy.”

He poured three mugs of tea, then picked one up and passed it to Sameena.  She took a sip and frowned.  It tasted suspiciously like the powdered tea Paddy had made, the second night she’d spent on the freighter.  The milk, on the other hand, seemed to add more flavour than the processed tea granules.

For a long moment, they sipped in silence – and then Cook leaned forward.  “I understand that you are currently looking for a charter,” he said.  “We need a small consignment of supplies shipped from Madagascar to Sungai Buloh.  Your freighter would be ideal for our purposes.”

Ethne frowned.  “I thought Sungai Buloh was a war zone,” she said.  “Or have the insurgents been suppressed?”

“You wouldn't be required to land, or do more than dock at the orbital station,” Cook assured her.  It wasn’t quite an answer.  “Once there, you would unload your cargo and then depart – if you couldn't find a charter there.  We would be happy to alter the fees to ensure that you were not out of pocket.”

Sameena considered it as she sipped her tea.  Logan was permanently on a shoestring, needing to find a new charter in every port – or the ship’s debts would eventually catch up with her crew.  If they went to Sungai Buloh and couldn't find a charter there, they might be in real trouble.  The offer to increase the fees accordingly was incredibly tempting.  But didn't that make it too good to be true?

Ethne seemed to be having similar thoughts.  “What sort of cargo will we be carrying?”

“Various supplies that have been urgently requisitioned by the garrison commander,” Cook said, reluctantly.  “Nothing dangerous ...”

He pulled a datachip out of his uniform pocket and passed it to Ethne.  “That’s our proposed contract, our offer of fees and other such details,” he added, as she slotted it into her datapad.  “I think you will find it more than generous.”

Ethne looked up.  “Why can't you use one of your own freighters?”

Cook hesitated, just like Abdul had when he’d been on the verge of telling a lie, then made a visible decision to be honest.  “Most of our transports have been pulled out of the sector,” he said, reluctantly.  “We are forced to improvise.”

Sameena took the datapad when Ethne passed it to her and skimmed through the contract as quickly as she could.  It looked very like the others she’d seen during Ethne’s tutoring sessions, apart from the offer to provide an escort ship if one was available.  The total fee was eight hundred thousand credits, half paid in advance.  It was not a small sum.  

“It looks good,” Ethne said, taking the datapad back.  “Will you be providing additional crew?”

“We are stretched too thin to detach anyone for your ship,” Cook admitted.  “However, you could take on temps from this station.”

“We could,” Ethne said.  She looked down at the datapad for a long moment, rereading the contract thoughtfully.  “When do you wish us to depart?”

“If you can be ready to leave in a day, a destroyer will escort you,” Cook said.  “After that ... you’ll have to leave alone, within the week.”

“Understood,” Ethne said.  She pressed her thumb against the datapad.  “We accept your contract.”

Sameena fought to keep her surprise off her face.  Ethne had just agreed, without consulting her husband ... she’d known that Ethne enjoyed more independence than any woman on Jannah, but Sameena had never really comprehended just how independent Ethne was until seeing her make a unilateral decision for the entire ship’s crew.  Even her father would have exploded with rage if her mother had made such an agreement.  

But the contract wouldn’t be legal on Jannah either, she thought, sourly.  Her husband or father would have to undersign it.

“There is a second matter,” Cook said, once he’d countersigned the contract and uploaded a copy to the asteroid’s datanet.  “We need you to transport a message from us to an officer on the picket there, without using the standard datanet.  If you will carry it for us, there will be an additional ten thousand credits for you two – personally.”

Sameena frowned, then realised that he was suggesting that they didn't have to share the money with anyone else on Logan, including the Captain.  Was that even legal?

“We’d be delighted,” Ethne said, without looking at Sameena.  “I assume that the message is encoded?”

Cook produced a small box from his uniform and passed it over to her.  “The box is sealed, with the chip inside further encrypted,” he said.  “I shouldn't have to warn you that trying to decrypt the message will destroy the chip and we will notice.”

He smiled, rather dryly.  “There may be a reply,” he added.  “If so, there will be an additional payment upon delivery – one large enough to cover all of your costs.”

“Thank you,” Ethne said, pocketing the chip.  “I look forward to doing more business with you in the future.”

“I shall hope so,” Cook said.  He gave Sameena another charming smile, then passed her a small card.  “Perhaps you would join me for a drink when you return?”

Sameena hesitated, looking down at the card.  It showed Cook’s name, his ship and a string of numbers and letters she vaguely recognised as a personal communications code.  If a message was uploaded into the Imperial Navy datanet in any system, she had been told, it would eventually make its way to wherever Cook was stationed.  

“She has a lot of work to do,” Ethne said, softly.  “I don’t think she could make any promises.”

“The lot of juniors everywhere,” Cook agreed.  He stood up and bowed to them both.  “It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

Sameena looked up long enough to watch him go, then looked over at Ethne.  “What does he want?”

“A date, a drink ... perhaps more, if you wanted to go further,” Ethne said.  She shrugged, then smiled.  “You seem to have made a new friend.”

“And you took his datachip,” Sameena said.  “Shouldn't you mention it to your husband?”

“I’ll give you half the fee for keeping quiet,” Ethne said.  She laughed at Sameena’s shock.  “Don’t worry, I will tell Tom about the chip.  Tradition says we get to keep ninety percent of the fee, however.”

She stood up and led the way back to the docks, bouncing questions off Sameena as they walked.  “How did your exams go?”

“My brain was hurting afterwards,” Sameena admitted, still a little bothered by how easily Ethne had decided to take the chip.  “Is that a good sign?”

“Pain builds character, my father always said,” Ethne said.  “But once you start regular schooling, you should be able to build up some genuine qualifications.  You’re going to need them, unless you want to remain a lowly deckhand for the rest of your days.”

She paused outside one of the shops.  “I think you’ll want to see this,” she said, as she pushed a glass door open.  “Look for something familiar.  But keep your mouth shut.”

Sameena frowned as she followed Ethne inside.  The shop was larger than she had realised, but almost empty, save for a single table.  But the walls were lined with shelves, each one holding a single glass bottle filled with coloured liquid.  Short notes beside them indicated point of origin, alcoholic strength and a handful of other details that made no sense to her.  There was nothing to indicate price ... she couldn't help feeling that she was sinning just by stepping into the shop.  Almost everything seemed to be thoroughly alcoholic.  

“Whiskey from Nova Scotia,” Ethne said, pointing to one of the bottles.  Her finger moved from bottle to bottle.  “Asteroid Ale from Ceres.  Vodka from Stalin Prime.  Fruit Punch from Tropicana.  And Firewater Mead.”

She smiled as Sameena stepped closer.  “If you have to ask the price,” she whispered, “you can't afford it.”

The bottle of Firewater Mead seemed to be glowing, slightly ... or was that just Sameena’s imagination?  It was small; she estimated that it held barely a pint of liquid ... and it wasn't even the smallest bottle in the shop.  The brief note beside the bottle didn't say anything about its point of origin, merely a note that it was not alcoholic and was rated safe for human consumption.  

“One of the most popular drinks in the system,” a voice said, from behind them.  Sameena spun around to see a thin, elf-like man standing there, rubbing inhumanly long fingers together.  His face looked equally inhuman.  “That bottle is worth one hundred thousand credits.”

Sameena blinked in surprise.  Captain Hamilton had told her that the mead was expensive, but she hadn't quite believed him.  But one hundred thousand credits ... her wages for a month on Logan were barely four thousand credits.  How could anyone afford to buy Firewater Mead?

The very rich buy it as a status symbol, she told herself.  That’s what makes it so expensive.

“We’ll have to look elsewhere,” Ethne said, leading Sameena out of the shop.  “The Captain will need a cheaper gift.”

She laughed as soon as the door was firmly shut.  “Did you notice what he didn't do?”

Sameena nodded.  “He didn't try to bargain,” she said.  

“Indeed not,” Ethne agreed.  “He knows that there is enough of a market for his products that he doesn’t have to bargain.  That should be useful, later.”

They met Jayne outside the airlock, who passed Sameena a small plastic bag of clothing.  “There were a couple of offers to do locum work on the station,” she said, as Ethne opened the airlock.  “How long are we staying here?”

“Ideally, we want to leave tomorrow,” Ethne said.  “But I’ll explain it all once your father calls a crew meeting.”

Stepping back onboard Logan felt almost like coming home, Sameena was surprised to discover.  She started to head down towards her cabin, only to be stopped by Ethne who reminded her that there was going to be a crew meeting.  The last one had left her feeling oddly out of place, but now she was being paid ... it felt as if she should attend.  

“Put on your new clothes first,” Jayne suggested.  “See if you can give Brad a heart attack.”

Ethne glared at her daughter.  “You’re not so old I can't beat you,” she said, crossly.  “Or sentence you to clean the waste disposal pipes on your own.”

The galley was barely large enough to hold the entire crew, even though the kids were off visiting friends on the asteroid rather than joining the meeting.  Ethne waited until Paddy had passed out the drinks, then nodded to her husband who called the meeting to order.

“We have a contract,” she announced, and outlined the terms of the agreement.  “We’re going to be hauling freight for the Imperial Navy.  If we manage to get everything loaded up by tomorrow, we will be escorted as we leave the system.”

“That’s good,” Hamilton said, once she had finished.  “An escort would deter pirates from attacking us, if they found out what we were carrying.”

Sameena studied him with some interest.  If he was irked that his wife had committed him to taking the contract without consulting him, he didn't show it.  Perhaps he was planning to yell at her in the privacy of their cabin, but it seemed unlikely.  She was starting to realise that their relationship was built on love, trust and mutual respect, not subordination and submission.   Ethne didn't have to take her husband’s opinion as the last word in anything.

Jayne looked down at the contract, then over at her mother.  “We do have to take on some more supplies from Madagascar,” she said.  “This contract stipulates that we have to pick up their cargo from the naval base.  It will be tricky to do both in time, unless you want to pay premium rates.”

“I’ll see if I can call in some favours,” Hamilton said.  “Steve?  How’s the drive?”

“I switched out the vital components over the last two days,” Steve said, “and laid in some more supplies.  We do need to refuel, but that won’t take too long.  If worst comes to worst, we can do it at the naval base while loading the supplies and pay their rates.  God knows they should help us if they’re that desperate to get supplies to their destination.”

Brad smiled.  “There might be a permanent contract in it for us,” he said.  “A good report from the Imperial Navy would go a long way.”

“But we don’t want permanent contracts,” Hamilton reminded his son.  He looked around the compartment.  “We’ll undock tonight and move over to the naval base.  Can we have our supplies by then?”

“Probably,” Jayne said.  “But we will have to pay.”

Hamilton nodded.  “See to it,” he said.  He raised his voice.  “Is there any other business?”

“There was a second contract,” Ethne said, and explained briefly about the message.  “I don’t know what it means.”

“Odd,” Hamilton mused.  “If they’re sending a destroyer to escort us, why couldn't someone on the destroyer hand-carry the message?”

He shook his head.  “But it doesn't matter,” he added, “as long as we get paid.”

Sameena made a mental note to research the Imperial Navy more thoroughly.  Jannah didn't really have an army, beyond the Guardians.  There was certainly nothing reassembling the Empire’s colossal military machine, either on the ground or in space.  But if the Imperial Navy was hiring civilian transports to move their supplies ... what did it mean?  Where were their transports?

She thought briefly about the small pile of notes she was collecting on her terminal, looking up details on spare parts for starships.  Could the Imperial Navy be having its own supply problems?  Cook had given her his contact code; she could ask him ... but she was sure that he wouldn't answer, not directly.  

Hamilton snorted, drawing her attention back to him.  “Anything else?”

“It’s Regina’s birthday in a week,” Jayne said.  “She’ll be ten years old.”

“Get a few party supplies from Madagascar,” Ethne ordered.  She looked over at Sameena.  “When’s your birthday?”

Sameena hesitated.  

“It would have to be calculated,” Paddy said, before she could hazard an answer.  “Jannah’s dating system is not based on the Imperial standard.”

“Do it,” Hamilton ordered.  He gave Sameena a smile.  “Now you’re part of the crew, you deserve to have your own birthday celebrated.”

“Thank you,” Sameena whispered.  Abdul’s birthdays had been celebrated, but hers had been largely ignored, save by her mother and father.  “I don’t deserve you.”

“Nonsense,” Ethne said.  “You’re one of us now.”

Sameena was still smiling hours later.

Chapter Ten

This, in short, provides the impetus for the development of money.  Money provides a common object of value that can be exchanged between people who would otherwise have nothing they could share.  The butcher might not need new shoes, but money would allow him to buy knives instead.  As long as people are willing and able to recognise the value of money, trade can take place.  
- Professor Leo Caesius.  The Science That Isn’t: Economics and the Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire.  

“I used to think about joining the navy,” Brad said, as the Imperial Navy base came into view.  It was an impressive network of tubes and spheres, with a dozen starships in close attendance.  “But I never did.”

Sameena didn't take her eyes off the viewscreen.  “Why didn’t you join?”

“Never had the patience for spit-and-polish,” Brad admitted.  “Besides, there’s a lot of discrimination against independent traders and RockRats in the Imperial Navy.  I would have been lucky to become a mustang; there was certainly no chance that I would be allowed to go straight into the Naval Academy.  I get a better life out here.”

He looked over at her.  “Where do you want to be in ten years?”

Sameena smiled.  “My own ship,” she said.  She did have other ideas, but she didn't want to discuss them too openly.  “And go trading across the stars.”

Brad grinned.  “Me too,” he admitted.  “But I would have thought that you would have wanted to go home and exact a little revenge.”

The thought had crossed Sameena’s mind after she’d realised just what an advantage it would be to have a single armed starship in orbit around a defenceless world.  She could drop rocks on the Guardians from orbit and batter the entire planet into submission, then punish the clerics for what they had done to her family.  But there would be no shortage of problems in governing the world afterwards.  Perhaps she would just offer free tickets off-world for everyone, male or female, who wanted to leave.  The ones who remained behind would at least have had a choice.  

“Maybe later,” she said, reluctantly.  

A dull thump ran through the ship as they docked with the naval base.  “Rough arrival,” Brad commented, ruefully.  “Dad’s going to yell at me later.”

Sameena shrugged.  No one had let her steer the ship outside simulations, not after she’d crashed it into the orbital station twice.  Ethne had been very sarcastic afterwards, listing all the mistakes she’d made and loudly praising God that it had all been simulated.  If it had taken place in reality, she’d concluded, over a thousand people would have died in a heartbeat, including the entire crew.  Sameena had honestly thought that Ethne was going to hit her.  Instead, she’d had to go through it again and again until she knew what she’d done wrong.  

“Don’t worry about it,” Brad added.  “You should have seen my mistakes when I was an apprentice.  My uncle used to threaten to throw me out of the airlock every second day.”

Sameena gave him a surprised look.  Abdul would never have been so sensitive to her feelings, let alone tried to cheer her up.  

Brad stood up as Ethne came through the hatch.  “They’re starting to load up the pallets now,” she said.  “Steve and James will handle it, while your father talks to the destroyer skipper.”

“Seems a bit odd,” Brad commented.  “Why would they detail a destroyer to escort little old us?”

Sameena considered it.  The destroyer was the workhorse of the Imperial Navy – few pirates, according to the files, would willingly take on a warship – but it had very limited cargo space.  Much of its hull was composed of drives, weapons and control systems, with the crew squeezed into the remaining space.  The images she’d seen on the datanet had suggested that three or four crewmen were crammed into cabins no bigger than her own.  She could never have endured such an existence.  

“They’re short on transports,” she muttered.  “And they must need their supplies.”

“Indeed,” Ethne agreed.  “Sameena, stay here until the loading is completed.  Once we separate from the station you can go back to your cabin.  For the moment, I suggest you review the files from your tutor.  You have a lot of work ahead of you.”

Sameena watched her go, puzzled.

“There’s a bunch of horny crewmen on the ship right now,” Brad said, once the hatch was closed.  “She doesn't want you seen.”

He smiled at Sameena’s expression, then passed her a terminal.  “There’s never anything to do while docked,” he added.  “You may as well review the files.”

Sameena frowned, remembering everything she’d been told about off-worlders on Jannah.  “If they saw me ... would anything happen?”

“I doubt it,” Brad admitted.  “They’ll be working hard and there will be officers supervising ... but it’s best not to take chances.  Some of the crewmen here have been on duty for years.”

“Oh,” Sameena said.  She clicked on the terminal, accessed the file and read the first page.  It was a blunt assessment of her first set of exams, concluding with a note that while she showed intelligence and promise, she was critically short of background knowledge that would be required for further qualifications.  “This isn't good.”

Brad took the terminal and read it, quickly.  “It doesn't say you’re stupid,” he pointed out, bluntly.  “Background knowledge merely requires research and some careful thought.  I think you’re better off than some others.”

He smiled as he passed the terminal back to her.  “I can help with some research,” he said, “but mum would go ballistic if she caught me giving you more than basic help.  Sorry.”

Sameena smiled and read through the next set of pages.  They outlined a study schedule, followed by a series of assignments that she would be expected to have completed by the time she returned to Madagascar.  Two of them she thought she could answer immediately, but the remainder – fifteen in all – were completely beyond her.  She felt her heart start to sink as she realised she would have to spend months studying, just to pass the exams.  

“And you will have plenty more work to do on the ship,” Brad pointed out, dryly.  “You might find it more useful than exams and studies.”

Sameena rolled her eyes.  Steve had said the same, but he’d also admitted that exams could make it easier to get onboard a new ship.  Shaking her head, she started working her way through the first study plan, reading the background notes the tutor had provided for her.  Some of the titbits on history were actually quite interesting ...

“That’s often more important than you might expect,” Brad said.  “Worlds that joined the Empire willingly are often more likely to follow Imperial Law than those that were annexed by force.  Quite a few worlds are fanatical loyalists because the Empire saved them from certain disaster.  If the Imperial Navy asked them a favour, you can bet your ... ah, rear that they would comply.”

“I see,” Sameena said.

“And then there’s places like Han, where understanding history will tell you that it’s a very good idea to stay away,” Brad added.  “Dad always downloads history modules when we move to a new sector, just so he can research our destinations.  He’ll be ready to bore us to death about Sungai Buloh tonight.”

He shrugged.  “Fortunately, you will have plenty of time to prepare for the practical exams,” he warned.  “Crashing a starship then will certainly get you booted out of the examination chamber.”

It was nearly four hours before the hatches were closed and Captain Hamilton came back onto the bridge.  “They’re clearing us for immediate departure,” he said.  “The Pinafore will be escorting us to our destination.”

Sameena smiled as Brad powered up the engines, ran through a brief checklist – he’d told her that the Imperial Navy were sticklers for following procedure, even though half of the steps could be omitted without risking anything – and then disengaged from the station.  She glanced down at the near-space display as the freighter wallowed free and frowned, her eyes narrowing as she studied the display.  Four of the starships near the station were radiating nothing, but their IFF beacons.  They weren't powered up at all.

“Interesting,” Brad said, as he took them past the weapons platform marking the outskirts of space claimed by the Imperial Navy.  “The only time they’re supposed to be powered down completely is when they’re in a shipyard, being repaired.  Anything could happen here and it would take hours to power up the ships to respond.”

“If they can be powered up,” Hamilton said, softly.  “If ...”

He cleared his throat.  “It will take us three hours to reach the Phase Limit,” he added.  “Perhaps, Sameena, you would care to work on your berries?  Richard and Regina will assist you.”

Sameena nodded and slipped through the hatch, walking down to what she was starting to think of as her hydroponics lab.  It had been expanded since they’d purchased more supplies from Madagascar, allowing Steve to set up a dozen additional vats.  The berries were growing faster than she’d expected.  Some of the second batch were already ripe for harvesting.  

“They taste good,” Regina called, as she entered.  “We had one each.”

“Oh,” Sameena said.  They’d bought a press, bottles and a handful of other supplies at Madagascar, as well as some instructions on how to turn the liquid into mead.  “I wouldn't eat any more or some people will be very annoyed.”

“We know that,” Richard said.  It was strange to realise that he was a mere eleven months older than his sister.  But then, both of them acted older than they really were.  “We’re not stupid, you know.”

“I know,” Sameena said, remembering what she’d said to Brad.  “You’re not even remotely stupid.”

She felt a flash of envy.  The kids had grown up in an incredibly dangerous environment.  They’d learned to wear shipsuits and check air pressure before they’d been able to walk.  In some ways, they were far more mature that kids born on Jannah – and far more used to thinking for themselves.  There were times when they made her feel slow and stupid beside them, even though she was five years older than Richard.  

“Pluck off the ripe berries, then press half of them into liquid,” Regina recited.  She started to work, her brother right beside her.  “The other half are to be put in the stasis pod until we can rig up a new set of vats.”

Sameena watched as the small pile of berries grew larger, then started to work on the press.  Steve had made her practice with the device before she actually tried to use it properly; it was harder than it seemed to crush the berries so that they released their juices.  A sweet smell arose in the compartment as the liquid pooled under the press, then drained into the container.  

“Smells nice,” Regina commented.  “How much do you think this is worth?”

“Lots,” Sameena said, shortly.  “We’ll have to wait and see.”

She’d done a little research into Firewater Mead when she had been on Madagascar, but there hadn’t been much information on the datanet.  Distribution was handled by a cartel – which she had already known – and they were incredibly close-mouthed about where the mead actually came from, originally.  If Sameena hadn't already known about Jannah, she would have suspected that the mead came from the other side of the Empire.  Someone had worked hard to obscure the source.

Odd, she thought, as she looked over at the bubbling vats.  Why didn't the cartel try growing the berries for themselves?

It puzzled her.  They had certainly had no trouble in growing the berries, let alone producing the mead.  An interstellar cartel with more money in its pocket change account than the entire planet of Jannah possessed should have had no trouble doing the same.  Could it be that the government on Jannah actually ran the cartel?  It was bizarre, but she had to admit that it was possible.  She couldn't think of any other explanation.  

She added the handful of other ingredients, as dictated by Uncle Muhammad, and then stored the liquid in the refrigerator.  It should be ready to drink in a month, according to the information she’d been given.  And then they would have to find a way to distribute it.  

“That won’t be a problem,” Ethne had assured her, when she’d asked.  “You’d be astonished how many items can be found on Madagascar with the serial numbers filed off.  The buyer might want to run a check first – people have been conned with bottles of coloured water before – but after that ... hell, we could just copy the bottles the cartel makes and let them assume that we bought it in another sector.”

“I think that’s it for the day,” she said, finally.  The remainder of the berries would be placed in the vats, once they were cleaned and replenished, where they could start producing the next generation of fruit.  “Thank you for your help.”

“Oh, it was no trouble,” Richard said, in an oddly formal tone.  “The alternative was sweeping the corridors again.”

Sameena started to laugh as the kids headed out of the compartment, back towards their cabin.  It still felt strange to see boys doing anything useful, let alone domestic ... but it also felt right.  She took one last look at the vats, then frowned again.  They’d managed to produce nearly a hundred pints in a month.  Surely the cartel could have produced more.

But it would be spread out over the entire Empire, she thought, slowly.  Even if they produced a million pints, there would only be a small amount for each inhabited world.

The thought nagged at her mind as she closed the compartment – like every other hatch, there was no actual lock to keep people out – and started to make her way back to the bridge.  As far as she could tell, producing vast amounts of mead shouldn't be a problem.  There were just too many things that didn't make sense.

Or maybe they’re just keeping supplies deliberately low, she thought, remembering her discovery of just how useless gold sultans were in the Empire.  Enough money to buy a small house on Jannah wouldn't have bought her more than a few meals on Madagascar.  That would allow them to keep the prices high.

“Welcome back,” Hamilton said, when she stepped onto the bridge.  “As you can see, we have a friend.”

He waved at the main display, which showed a single green icon effortlessly keeping pace with the wallowing freighter.  Sameena wondered, briefly, what the destroyer’s crew thought about having to tie their speed to a much slower ship, before deciding that it hardly mattered.  An escort was about the only way to guarantee that the supplies would reach Sungai Buloh, rather than being captured and resold by pirates.  

“And we’re about to cross the Phase Limit,” Brad said, from his console.  “The coordinates are already set for the jump.”

Sameena nodded, feeling a familiar throbbing at her temple as she remembered what she’d been told about Phase Space.  One set of articles had called it an alternate dimension, where the laws of physics were different and starships could travel faster than light; another set had claimed that the starship actually created its own alternate dimension, once it was safely away from the massive gravity well created by a star.  She honestly couldn't understand why the drive was used without being understood, but she had to admit that she used plenty of devices without knowing how they worked.  

Besides, the fact it worked was all that mattered.

“Good,” Hamilton said.  “Confirm with our escort and then take us into Phase Space as soon as possible.”

“Understood,” Brad said.  There was a long pause as he worked his console.  “Crossing the border .... now.  I’d prefer to wait longer before we jumped.”

“Then do so,” Hamilton said.

Sameena frowned, puzzled.

“The gravity well isn't a perfect sphere,” Hamilton explained, noticing her expression.  “A military ship can normally compensate for any last-minute flickers, but we can’t.  So we wait until we are well clear before we jump.”

“They’ll complain, of course,” Ethne added.  “But if they are really desperate for the supplies ...”

“They won’t dare complain too loudly,” Sameena finished.  A cursory look at the Imperial Navy’s fleet list had convinced her that this contract would just be the first of many.  If the navy needed civilian craft, they wouldn't be able to push too hard.  “Or would they try to rewrite the contracts?”

“There is always some leeway built into contracts,” Ethne observed.  “You should know that by now.”

She smiled, rather dryly.  “Unavoidable delays happen – and no one wants to chance losing their ship over them,” she added.  “Suffice it to say that we would have to be over a week late before they could start using the penalty clauses.”

“But once they start using them, we’re in deep doo-doo,” Brad offered.  He looked down at his display, then up at his father.  “I think we can jump from here, dad.”

“Then tell them that we’re going,” Hamilton ordered.  “And then jump us out.”

Brad keyed a set of switches.  This time, Sameena felt a faint sense that something wasn't entirely right blowing through her for a long second, before the universe snapped back to normal.  There was nothing but inky darkness on the displays.

“Phase Space,” Brad said.  He smiled over at Sameena.  “Next stop; Sungai Buloh.  Estimated Time of Arrival: seven days, nine hours.”

“Splendid,” Ethne said.  “And now you have nothing else to do, you can help Paddy and James with the corridors.  The decks are a right mess.”

Brad groaned theatrically, but obeyed.

“And Sameena, you have schooling to attend to,” Ethne added.  “You really don’t want to waste those lessons.”

Sameena nodded in agreement, then left the bridge.

Chapter Eleven

It is not easy, of course, to put a value to different items.  The blacksmith may feel that the butcher’s products are worth less than either his or the cobbler’s.  However, over time, the free (i.e. uncontrolled) market tends to find a definite value for specific items , if only through suggesting the prices that people are willing to pay.  Something priced too high or too low would eventually price itself out of the market.
- Professor Leo Caesius.  The Science That Isn’t: Economics and the Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire.  

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Regina, happy birthday to you.”

Sameena found herself giggling as the song came to an end.  It was so different from anything that she had experienced on Jannah that she couldn't help feeling happy ... and a sense that she finally belonged somewhere at long last.  Regina looked happy too, even as the older spacers thumped her back or rear ten times each, one whack for each of her years.  She would never have to doubt her place among them.

“Congratulations,” she said.  “I hope you’ll have many more birthdays to come.”

Regina grinned as she sat down at the table and started to open her presents, all wrapped in duct tape and plastic containers that had once held food supplies.  One of the containers, when opened, revealed another container; Steve giggled mercilessly as Regina worked her way through five successive containers before finally finding the multitool he’d purchased on Madagascar.  Regina threw herself into his arms and gave him a tight hug.

“Just be careful what you unscrew,” Ethne warned, sternly.  “I had to speak quite sternly to your brother after he dismantled a terminal and then couldn't put it back together again.”

Sameena felt her smile growing wider as Regina opened the next present and discovered a paperback book.  Brad must have purchased it on Madagascar too, she realised, although she hadn't seen him on the rock.  Regina looked at the front cover, then gave Brad a hug too.  It was a omnibus edition of a famous novel series that refused to die, even if it was massively outdated by now.

Captain Hamilton and Ethne had given Regina her own ship’s log, with a droll note advising her to write something in it each day.  Sameena had never kept a diary – she had known that her mother would read it, if she found the book – but she had to admit that she understood the attraction.  Regina opened it to the first page, carefully wrote her name and communications code on the crisp paper, and then placed it on the table.  She stood upright and gave Captain Hamilton a salute, before collapsing into giggles and hugging his wife.  The Captain returned her salute gravely.  

“Welcome to being ten years old,” Richard said, once Regina had opened his present.  “I’ll be ahead of you again in five months.”

“Richard,” Ethne said, although there was no real irritation in her tone.  “It just means that you will grow old first.”

“Hah,” Regina said, and stuck her tongue out at her brother.  She picked up the final package before Richard could retaliate, then looked up at Sameena.  “From you?”

Sameena nodded, feeling a hint of nervousness.  Present-giving wasn't a strong tradition on Jannah, where it was customary to give children – particularly boys – religious texts for their birthdays and then quiz them mercilessly about them for months afterwards.  She’d thought long and hard over what to buy for the girl she had come to think of as her younger sister, but she honestly wasn't sure about her choice.  In the end, she’d purchased a dress from Madagascar with a little help from Jayne.  

“It’s lovely,” Regina said, when she unfurled the dress.  It was sky-blue, matching her eyes and setting off her blonde hair nicely.  “Thank you!”

Sameena watched as Regina pulled the dress over her shipsuit and spun around, showing off the skirt.  It was considerably more modest than anything Jayne had suggested; Sameena had balked at the thought of giving a ten-year-old girl anything revealing, no matter what culture she had come from.  But it also looked nice.  The storekeeper had included, at Sameena’s request, some material and tools to extend the dress if necessary.  At least she knew how to sew.  Neither Ethne nor Jayne possessed that particular skill.  

She grunted as Regina gave her a tight hug.  The girl was stronger than she looked – the result of genetic engineering, Jayne had told her – and seemed to be unaware of it, although she did spend most of her time wrestling with her brother or Jayne.  The doctor had promised Sameena her own classes on self-defence, something that had definitely not been a possibility on Jannah.  No doubt they hadn't wanted women – or men – defending themselves.

“You’re welcome,” she murmured, as the girl let go of her.  “And I hope you have many more birthdays to come.”

Paddy tapped the table, summoning Regina, Richard and Jayne to sit down, while everyone else gathered behind them.  Once they were seated, he started to hand out small cakes in plastic containers, one of which bore Sameena’s name.  There was a small amount of alcohol in some of the cakes, Sameena had been told, but he’d picked one for her that didn't include alcohol or anything else forbidden in the recipe.  Paddy, it seemed, was nicer than he wanted to let on.  

“Eat up,” Paddy urged.  He grinned, as if he was enjoying a private joke.  “And don’t forget to do your teeth afterwards.”

Sameena realised what he meant the moment she bit into the cake.  It was astonishingly sweet, tasting sweeter than the sugar drops she’d eaten as a child.  The icing – bright green – seemed to be nothing, but sugar.  Thankfully, the cake itself was rather bland.  She ended up leaving half of the icing behind.  Richard promptly asked her if he could have it.

“Now that we have had our celebration,” Captain Hamilton said, “it’s time to get back to work.  We arrive in two hours, remember?”

“I’ll clean up here,” Paddy said, scooping up the discarded containers.  He looked over at Sameena.  “You should be on the bridge for when we arrive.”

“Good idea,” Brad agreed.  He gave Sameena a sidelong glance.  “Did you ever work out when it was your birthday?”

“Four months, more or less,” Sameena said.  “I think, at least.”

She had needed the computer to help calculate her age, if only because Jannah’s years were longer than the Imperial Standard Year used by the Empire.  It struck her as odd to realise that she was effectively an adult by the Empire’s standards, although being an adult woman on Jannah wasn’t that different from being a child.  

“It’s always tricky to be sure,” Brad said.  He shrugged as he led the way out of the galley and up towards the bridge.  “Most spacers just go by the Imperial Standard Year, but it does cause problems.  People have been arrested because someone failed to take different years into account.”

Sameena nodded.  She’d run across case studies while doing her reading for interstellar law, some complex and some so absurd she was at a loss to understand how they could ever have happened.  A child could be considered sixteen years old on one planet and thirteen the next; one planet’s legal age of consent was five, which had shocked her until she realised that five years on that planet were effectively comparable to nineteen standard years.  Such problems cropped up regularly and, as Ethne had noted sardonically, made a lot of money for lawyers.

The bridge was deserted when they arrived, the automated systems monitoring their passage through Phase Space.  Captain Hamilton had impressed upon Sameena – and the rest of his crew – that the bridge was never to be left unattended while they were in normal space, but nothing could threaten them in FTL.  In fact, it was hellishly difficult to track a ship through Phase Space, let alone attack it.  Brad sat down in front of the helm and checked it, briefly, before looking up at her.  His face was faintly red.

“You look very good in that dress,” he stammered.  “It suits you.”

“Thank you,” Sameena said, flushing.  She’d worn the green dress, which set her skin and hair off nicely.  It felt odd to wear the shipsuit underneath, as if it was a piece of oversized underwear, but there was no choice.  “I’m glad you like it.”

Brad seemed tongue-tied afterwards, so much so that it was a relief when Captain Hamilton and Ethne came onto the bridge as the timer ticked down towards zero.  A faint shudder ran through Logan as she returned to normal space, the stars flickering back into existence on the viewscreens.  Sameena wondered, absently, how many of the stories of ships trapped forever in Phase Space were actually true.  Ethne had pointed out that a trapped ship would never be able to get home to report, but the stories were still creepy.  Richard seemed to enjoy hearing them from Paddy before he went to bed.  

“Welcome to Sungai Buloh,” Captain Hamilton said.  “Brad; check with our escort, then take us into the inner system.”

Sameena picked up the terminal and started to read through the files on Sungai Buloh, as Brad had suggested.  The planetary system should have been well-placed for an economic boom – there was a large asteroid field and a pair of gas giants for fuel – yet the settlers had fallen into a prolonged civil war a bare two hundred years after settlement.  It was difficult to reconcile the disparate versions of history stored in the database, but it seemed that the founding corporation had provoked an uprising, which had become civil war after the corporation cut its losses and retreated.  Just to make matters more complicated, it seemed, there were a number of semi-legal settlements throughout the system.  The Empire had landed a garrison in the hopes of dampening down the violence and preventing the system being used by pirates, smugglers and insurgents, but the reports suggested that they weren't having much success.

She frowned as the freighter and her escort made their way further into the system, studying the displays.  There was a surprising amount of traffic moving through the system despite the civil war – or perhaps because of it.  Technically, the entire star system belonged to the planet’s government, but as the planet’s government couldn't enforce its authority anyone could move in and start settling or mining for themselves.  It was going to be a nightmare when the civil war finally burned itself out and the government started trying to assert itself outside the gravity well.

Good thing Jannah’s founders picked such a worthless system, she thought, ruefully.  What would have happened to us if they had landed on prime real estate?

“They want us to dock at Orbit One,” Brad said, shortly.  “Apparently, the Imperial Navy just took the whole place over, once they arrived in the system.”

“Probably for the best,” Captain Hamilton said.  “Steer us towards the station.”

“Maybe,” Ethne said, doubtfully.  “They may also wish to search the ship.”

Sameena had never seen a life-bearing world from orbit before, not even Jannah.  Sungai Buloh was a green and blue orb, hanging against the darkness of space, seemingly completely untouched by humanity.  God had worked wonders in creating the universe, she realised, and yet few people on Jannah would ever see the results of His handiwork.  Nothing human, not even the terraformed worlds like Mars, could match up to a natural planet.  

Orbit One seemed cruder than Madagascar, she decided, as Brad slowly brought them into dock.  It was a blocky structure, studded with sensor blisters, docking ports and open-space warehouses.  A dozen heavy-lift shuttles were making their way to and from the planet below, transporting goods from orbit to the surface.  Three Imperial Navy starships orbited near the station, watchfully.  One of them was dropping projectiles on the planet below.

“KEWs – Kinetic Energy Weapons,” Brad commented.  “There’s never any shortage of rocks in an inhabited star system.”

There was a dull thud as the ship docked with the station.  “We have arrived,” Brad said.  He looked down at his console.  “The Imperial Navy is sending crewmen to help off-load the supplies.  Apparently, we’re welcome on Orbit One, but they advise us not to try going down to the planet.”

“Quite right of them,” Ethne agreed.  She looked over at her husband.  “Sameena and I will go onto the station and look for our contact.  Can you see to the unloading?”

Captain Hamilton nodded.  “Just remember to share the proceeds,” he said.  He shared a long smile with his wife.  “And see if you can pick up on any other contracts here.”

“Doubt it,” Ethne said.  “This place has little to offer the universe.”

Orbit One’s designers and operators seemed to agree, Sameena decided, as they stepped through the airlock and into the giant structure.  Madagascar was a whole settlement in its own right; Orbit One seemed nothing more than a giant orbiting warehouse, with a handful of shops and other facilities tacked on as an afterthought.  Apart from the Imperial Navy personnel, there was hardly anyone on the station.  The single store for spacers contained nothing, but overpriced junk.

“That isn't too surprising,” Ethne said, when Sameena pointed it out.  “This system doesn't go out of its way to attract visitors.”

“You’d think they could offer fresh food,” Sameena objected.  “Even if they don’t offer anything else ...”

“They do,” Ethne said, darkly.  She nodded towards a hatch that was decorated with an image of a naked woman.  “They offer sex.”

Sameena stared at her.  “Why ...?”

“War causes refugees to flee their homes,” Ethne said.  “Many of them have nowhere else to go, so they become prostitutes.  The ones here are actually lucky, in many ways; they may be working as sex slaves, but they’re not actually in danger of sudden death.”

Sameena shuddered, but said nothing.

Ethne found a data terminal and typed in a name, hunting for their contact.  “Got him,” she said, after a moment.  “He’s currently stationed on one of the gunboats.”

“One of the ships,” Sameena said.  “How are we going to get to him?”

“We message him and ask for a meeting,” Ethne said, dryly.  She typed in the message and then scowled.  “No integrated system here.  We’ll have to wait for a reply.”

It was twenty minutes before a reply arrived, requesting a meeting in two hours.  Sameena wanted to go back to the ship, but Ethne insisted on taking a look around the station so she could memorise the layout.  Orbit One was a standard design for a newly-settled colony world, she explained, and knowing one would give her a working knowledge of the others.  If Sungai Buloh had developed normally, she added, the station would probably have been replaced by now.  

Sameena had to admit that it was a fascinating tour, particularly when Ethne talked the crew into allowing them to see the command centre, which was a fancy name for a compartment only twice the size of Logan’s bridge.  Sungai Buloh just didn't have enough interstellar traffic to rate a larger station.  Even so, it was a relief when they finally returned to the meeting place.  Some of the looks the crewmen had been shooting at her suggested that they’d been mentally undressing her.  

Their contact proved to be a middle-aged man wearing a white duty uniform, with gold stripes that proclaimed him to be a Commander.  He looked almost fatherly; Sameena couldn't help wondering if he was deliberately trying to be a father to his men.  But then, Imperial Navy crewmen would be even more isolated from their families than trader crews.

“Thank you for coming,” he said.  His voice was so calm that it was hard to imagine anything flustering him.  “Do you have the datachip?”

Ethne smiled.  “Do you have some ID?”

The Commander reached into his pocket and produced a wallet, then held up an Imperial Navy ID card.  Ethne took it, pressed it against the reader in her datapad, then nodded grudgingly and handed it back to him.

“Commander Sebastian Viol,” she said.  She produced the box and passed it to him.  “And we need the other half of the fee.”

“One moment,” the Commander said.  He opened the box with his thumbprint, then checked the datachip in his reader.  A line of text scrolled up in front of his eyes.  “It seems to have been left untouched.”

“We live to serve,” Ethne said, tartly.

“We cannot be too careful,” Viol admitted.  He produced a credit coin and passed it over to Ethne, who took it and checked the amount.  “When will you be leaving the system?”

“Four days, unless we find another contract,” Ethne said.  “Do you know of any possibilities?”

“I will have to send a reply back,” Viol said.  “There are, I believe, several groups that wish to leave the planet permanently.  They will be offering cash to any freighter willing to take them out of the system.”

Ethne lifted an eyebrow.  “And where do they want to go afterwards?”

“I don't think they care about that,” Viol admitted.  He smiled, rather humourlessly.  “I shall meet with you again in two days, same time and place.  I’ll give you the reply then.”

“And the advance on the fee,” Ethne added.  “If we don’t find a contract here, we’re going directly back to Madagascar.”

“I’ll see what I can forward in your direction,” Viol promised.  He stood up.  “Thank you for your time.”

Sameena watched him go, then looked over at Ethne.

“That man is deeply worried about something,” Ethne said, softly.  “And they’re paying far too much for courier duty.”

She stood up and led the way back to the ship.  Sameena followed her, mulling it over in her mind.  What did it all mean?

Chapter Twelve

However, the money itself rested upon items of almost universal value.  Salt, as noted above, was immensely valuable in some primitive societies.  It could serve as a symbol of wealth, although as people did tend to find uses for salt, it was hardly a stable material.  Later, precious metals became the first coins of the region.  Gold, for example, was almost worthless as anything, but money.  
- Professor Leo Caesius.  The Science That Isn’t: Economics and the Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire.  

“I found us a potential contract,” Ethne said, two days later.  “It may not be quite what we want, however.”

“Beggars can't be choosers,” Paddy pointed out.  “Where do they want us to go?  Han?”

Sameena looked around the galley, trying to judge their reactions.  Captain Hamilton looked impassive; Steve and James seemed completely disinterested.  Brad and Jayne, on the other hand, seemed rather more interested than Sameena would have expected.  But then, Brad was planning to obtain a freighter for himself once he built up the funds for the first investment.  

“Anywhere,” Ethne said, softly.  “There are five families who want to escape their homeworld.  I told them that we would be going to Madagascar and they jumped at the chance.”

“Sounds odd,” Brad commented.  “Where are they going to go after Madagascar?”

“They have money to book transport onwards, it seems,” Ethne said.  “All they really want to do is get to a system with regular interstellar travel.  Madagascar would fit the bill nicely, with the added benefit of being where we want to go, so we can collect more money from the Imperial Navy.”

Steve scowled.  “Five families,” he repeated.  “How many people are included?”

“Twenty-seven, fifteen of whom are young children,” Ethne explained.  “They have basic medical certificates from their homeworld, nothing from the Empire.  There’s no reason why they would be denied entry to Madagascar.”

“Not if they have money,” Paddy growled.  “Do they really have enough credits to survive?”

“They’ve been trading with off-world traders,” Ethne said.  “From what their representative said, their lives have been threatened and they just want to take their kids and run.  Quite understandable, if you ask me.”

Sameena nodded in agreement.  She could understand people wanting to leave their homeworld, even if it was where they had grown up.  Besides, nothing she’d read about the world below had suggested that it might be a decent place to live.  The civil war had been going on for far too long, despite the best efforts of the peacekeepers.  

Steve scowled.  “We will need to redline the life support systems,” he warned.  “Assuming that we bed them down in the hold, we’re still going to have problems.  I assume we can't take the kids first and everyone else afterwards?”

Ethne gave her son a dark look.  “You would assume responsibility for their safety on Madagascar?”

“Dumbass,” Paddy agreed.  He looked over at Captain Hamilton.  “Permission to punch him, sir?”

“If we are to take all of them, we will need to install additional life support systems,” Steve said, sharply.  “The cold equations do not bend.  As you should damn well know, jarhead.”

Sameena shivered.  Steve had ordered her to read the short story – apparently, it dated all the way back to the pre-space era – and explained afterwards that the universe didn't change its laws for anything, not even sentimentality.  He’d then pointed out, once again, just how lucky Sameena had been to survive her first trip into space ... and how the next mistake could easily kill her.  

Captain Hamilton tapped the bulkhead, loudly enough to silence both of them.  “Do we have an expenses account as part of the contract?”

“Not a big one,” Ethne said.  “But we can always resell life support technology on Madagascar, if we manage to obtain Imperial Navy-grade equipment.”

“See what you can find,” Captain Hamilton ordered.  “Steve, you work out what we would need and then give me the list.  Unless there are any serious objections, I intend to take the contract.”

“We might want to add in a liability clause,” Steve warned.  “What happens if one of those idiots accidentally opens an airlock?”

“I’ll see to it,” Captain Hamilton said.  “Anything else?”

No one said anything.  Sameena wondered, absently, why this contract was up for debate while Ethne had signed the previous contract without consulting with anyone else, even her husband.  But then, a live cargo was always a difficult problem.  Logan simply didn't have enough stasis pods to transport all five families to Madagascar.  

“Sameena, go with Steve to work out the requirements for life support,” Captain Hamilton ordered.  “Ethne and I will draw up the contract for their approval.”

Sameena normally liked working with Steve, but he seemed to be in a dark mood as they went down to the engineering compartment to work through their sums.  She knew how the life support systems worked, at least in theory; adding twenty-seven newcomers to the crew risked overloading it.  They would need to produce more oxygen ...

“Count them all as adults,” Steve ordered, when she asked how old the children were.  “You don't want to cut corners with the life support.”

Sameena nodded, wincing inwardly at his tone.  The life support requirements for children were considerably smaller than adults, but it was difficult to be sure precisely how much each child required.  Adults, on the other hand, were fairly constant.  He was right, she knew; counting them all as adults would be safer than trying to work out precisely how much they needed.  

“Show me your results,” he growled, once he’d worked it out himself.  “And you check mine.”

They had the same answer, Sameena noted with some relief.  A mistake with the life support could be absolutely disastrous.  All of her exercises over the last month had been torn apart and the mistakes highlighted, just to make sure that she knew exactly what she was doing.  

“Excellent,” Steve said.  He sounded as though he was annoyed that they hadn't been able to prove that they couldn't take the families onboard.  “And here is what we will need to provide for them.”

The next four hours passed quickly, once they purchased the additional life support gear from Orbit One.  Steve, Paddy, James and Brad did most of the installing, but they took time to explain to Sameena and the kids just what they were doing – and why.  Next time, Steve promised, she could actually do a section herself, although he would be checking her work afterwards.  Sameena felt vaguely insulted until she realised that everyone’s work was being checked.  

She caught a nap in her cabin, then awoke in time to assist Brad in preparing the hold for their guests.  There was enough space for twenty-seven passengers, she realised, but it was going to be cramped – and there would be absolutely no privacy.  The sole remaining cabin had been designated the toilet, with the kids charged with showing the newcomers how to use it.  Sameena was just grateful that she hadn't been given that job.

“We’re taking on additional rations too,” Brad told her, once they had finished laying out the bedding.  “It was rather worrying how quickly the Imperial Navy signed a case of standard ration bars over to us.”

Sameena made a face.  Paddy had told her that standard ration bars were nutritious, with everything a growing spacer needed, but they were disgusting.  She had wondered why the producers didn't try to improve the flavour; Paddy had pointed out that they didn't want to encourage people to eat the bars and nothing else.  It didn't make sense to her.  

“We can probably hang a curtain to separate the sexes if they wish it,” she said.  She had no idea of the sexual mores on the planet below.  “Or should we do that anyway?”

“See what they have to say,” Brad said.  “It would probably be better to let them choose.”

Their wristcoms buzzed.  “Come to the airlock,” Ethne ordered.  “They’re ready to come onboard.”

Sameena hadn't been sure what she’d been expecting to see.  The children looked terrible, as if they’d spent their lives permanently on the run.  Their eyes were haunted, their faces were pale and their clothes were tattered, despite the vast sum of money their parents had handed over to Ethne for transport out of the system.  The adults looked more confident, particularly the younger men, but there was a wariness about them that bothered Sameena.  How much of their confidence was an act?

“They got shipsuits on the station, thankfully,” Brad muttered to her, as they escorted the refugees into the hold.  “But we will still have to tell them about safety.”

Sameena nodded, remembering the days when she hadn't been allowed to leave her cabin without an escort.  There were just too many ways one of the children could get themselves killed, entirely by accident.  Ethne stepped forward as soon as the last refugee was in the hold and started to warn them of the dangers.  None of them showed much reaction.

“It's a seven-day trip to Madagascar,” Ethne concluded.  “It would be nice if you could stay in the hold until we reach our destination.  Do not go beyond the airlock at the head of the corridor without an escort.”

Brad pulled at Sameena’s arm, leading her out of the hold.  “Pity they can't be permanently sedated,” he muttered.  “You know the vast colonist-carriers?  They’re nothing, but thousands of stasis pods for the colonists.  They don’t experience any time passing until they reach their new homeworld.  So much better than just waiting in the hold, staring at the bulkheads.”

Sameena said nothing as they walked back up to the bridge.  Steve was already there, monitoring the life support equipment.  He didn't look happy; he was checking and rechecking the readings, as if he expected the system to break down at any moment.  There were horror stories, Sameena had read, where starship crews had had to shoot their passengers into space, just to survive long enough for help to arrive.  They never ended well.  

“There’s hardly any System Command here,” Brad muttered, as he took his seat.  “We could just leave orbit without waiting to ask for permission.”

“You’d better ask for permission to undock first,” Captain Hamilton said, dryly.  “Or they will make a terrible fuss.”

Sameena smiled as Steve chuckled, finally turning away from the monitoring systems.  Logan couldn't hope to outrun one of the gunboats in the system, even if she were given an hour’s lead.  If the Imperial Navy chose to come after them, escape would be impossible.  

“They’ve cleared us to depart,” Brad said, after a moment.  “And they’re wishing our passengers a happy voyage.”

“Not a chance,” Steve said.  “They’ll be thoroughly sick of each other by the time we reach Madagascar.”

Logan quivered to life as she undocked from Orbit One and then headed out towards the Phase Limit.  Sameena studied the displays long enough to confirm her first impression of the system, then picked up her terminal and went back to work.  There were five more assignments to complete before she returned to Madagascar or ... she didn't know what the consequences would be, but it would probably delay her progress.  Besides, Ethne hadn't been joking when she said that the kids weren't allowed to explore unless they had completed all of their assignments.  Sameena would probably face the same restriction.  

The hatch opened, revealing Paddy.  “Jayne’s just finished inspecting some of the kids,” he said, as he sat down at one of the consoles.  There was a hint of cold anger in his voice.  “Someone slapped them around, quite a bit.  That refugee camp was a very nasty place and the Imperials did bugger all to make it better.  I’m surprised they kept their cash.  It should have been stolen or used for bribes by now.”

Sameena gritted her teeth.  She’d done some research during a break and discovered that interstellar refugees rarely fared well.  If they were lucky, they were shipped to a planet that allowed them to integrate into its population; if they were unlucky, they remained in refugee camps or were simply dumped on colonies like Madagascar, where they were ruthlessly exploited by the locals.  How many of the women in brothels, she thought grimly, had been refugees?  The Empire could be a very unfriendly place.

And how would Jannah react, she asked herself, if a few thousand refugees from a different culture were dumped on us?

Her research suggested that the answer to that was poorly.  Some worlds were quite welcoming, or simply in desperate need of new colonists, but others resented unwelcome immigrants, particularly the ones who refused to assimilate into the local culture.  Jannah, she was sure, would be very unwelcoming.  And she had a feeling that few outsiders, even the ones from Islamic worlds, would be willing to assimilate completely.  

Ethne and Jayne would refuse to wear the veil, but there’s just two of them, she thought, bitterly.  How would a few thousand outsiders react to Jannah?

“Poor bastards,” Brad said.  “But they’re safe now.”

“Once they get to Madagascar they’ll be safe,” Steve said.  He didn't sound as though he believed himself.  “Right now, I think we should keep a very close eye on the life support.”

Sameena nodded and returned her gaze to her terminal.  The assignment was driving her insane, but she didn’t want to ask for help.  Starship navigation was something she would definitely have to master if she wanted to pass the exams, let alone command her own ship.  And navigating through Phase Space was incredibly tricky ... every one of her first set of calculations had gone wrong because she hadn't been able to account for all of the gravity wells that warped and twisted Phase Space.  Or made it harder for the drive to work properly.

There’s a gravity well there, she thought to herself, rubbing her temple.  If we go too close, we’ll wind up three light years from our intended destination.  But if we give it a wide berth, we’ll add several more days to our transit time.

And to think the assignment wanted the quickest route between two points, with as few stopping places as possible ...

She put it aside, deciding that she might be forced to ask Brad or Ethne for help.  Brad might give her the answer; Ethne would show her how to avoid making the same mistake time and time again.  Silently promising that she would ask them tomorrow, she searched through the other files on the database and brought up a textbook on interstellar biological quarantine procedures.  She’d been warned that she would be expected to have a passing understanding of what could and could not be shipped in merchant hulls. 

The hatch opened again.  Sameena looked up, expecting to see Ethne or Jayne ... and gasped as one of the refugees stepped onto the bridge.  The young man didn't look beaten anymore; he looked ... dangerous.  And he was carrying a small pistol in his hand.

“I’d ask you all to remain still,” he said, as the other young men filed onto the bridge.  He spoke Imperial Standard with an oddly lisping accent.  “If you do as we say, none of you will be harmed.”

Captain Hamilton stared at him, his face twitching with rage.  “What is this?”

“Your ship is under our control,” the hijacker said.  “Please, put your hands in the air.”

Sameena hesitated, cursing her oversight.  If she’d carried her pistol ... but she'd known that she couldn't take it onboard Orbit One and so she’d left it in her cabin.  It might as well be a thousand light years away for all the good it would do her.  

And they have the drop on us anyway, she thought, remembering a couple of movies she’d watched with the kids.  There was no way she could have drawn her pistol without being shot.  If she’d had it, they would have taken it.  What could we do?

“Do as he says,” Captain Hamilton ordered.  His voice was very controlled, but she was sure that he was furious.  He was the master of his ship and his command was being violated.  “Now.”

Sameena lifted her hands.  Brad and Steve did the same, their faces flushed with angry humiliation.  Paddy complied a moment later, his face tight and expressionless.  

“My wife,” the Captain said, suddenly.  Sameena heard the alarm in his voice and winced, inwardly.  What had happened to Ethne?  And Jayne?  And the kids?  “What have you done with her?”

“She’s safe, just a little tied up,” the hijacker said.  He gave Hamilton a savage smile.  “Now, I’d like the command codes to your ship.  Now.”

“The Imperial Navy already knows that you’re here,” Hamilton said, calmly.  “You cannot hope to get across the Phase Limit in time to escape.”

“You’re lying,” the hijacker said, simply.  

Sameena suspected that he was right.  They hadn't known that the refugees had bad intentions until they'd come crashing onto the bridge.  There had been no time to contact the Imperial Navy and scream for help.  If the hijackers kept their nerve, they could just keep going to the Phase Limit and vanish the moment they crossed it.  There would be no help from outside.

The hijacker didn’t even sound angry.  “And you don’t seem to be taking us seriously.  How ... terrible.”

He reached forward and caught Sameena’s arm, pulling her out of her seat and thrusting her towards two of his men.  She winced, expecting to be molested or raped in front of her adopted family, but instead they pushed her towards the airlock.  The hatch was open and she was inside before she quite realised what was going on.  And then the hatch closed.  Absolute silence descended as she beat her hands against the inner hatch ...

... And then she heard air starting to hiss out of the compartment as the outer hatch began to open, revealing the inky darkness of space.