Barrington Bayley - The Zen Gun

“It’s sick , Admiral! It’s all completely sick! ”

The girlish voice belonged to Hesper Positana, the last of the rebels to be captured. He turned and at first thought that in her silver and black uniform she was entering into the spirit of the thing. But her sulky face told otherwise.

She had been railing at Archier at every opportunity since being introduced to him. She should have been on the vessel that had been designated as a prison ship, but having been brought aboard together with the three Earthites, she had been left where she was.

Archier’s painted face smiled at her through the folds of Indra’s cummerbund. “But fun, you’ll agree.”

“ Fun? ” Hesper gaped at him in outrage. “Admiral, I hardly think fun is the word that should be used when describing the behaviour of imperialists. What have you got here? A celebration of oppression and random violence! Maybe that’s fun for you, but as far as I’m concerned it’s merely vile.”

“I assure you we don’t see ourselves that way.”

“So how do you see the nuke bombs you dropped on Earth, for instance? What need was there for that?”

Archier shook his head, setting the baleful face of Indra swaying. “But no such thing happened.”

“Don’t kid me. I saw the fireballs after we took off.”

Leaning closer so he could make himself heard over the music, Archier said. “You’re placing the blame in the wrong quarter. An insurgent can’t claim to be on the side of peace. What safety can there be without Imperial stability? It’s my duty to maintain it.”

“Huh! The Empire!” Disdainfully Hesper waved at the scene before her. “Just look at it! A pack of degenerates and perverts! Wallowing with animals, with cattle and wild beasts! It’s pathetic!”

“Yes, I know that intelligent animals aren’t allowed into decent society on many of the outer worlds. But is that attitude creditable, or even civilised? All mammals are part of the same family. And the Empire does need their services.”

“We don’t need them in Escoria, not at all. And do you know what, Admiral? Because we have lots of real people , and that’s because we breed . We have lots of children , remember them? Why don’t you try it? Family life’s not so bad.”

She took a deep breath. “But it’s not surprising you’ve forgotten what sex is for when one takes a look at your women, is it? Why are they so hideous? Why would anyone want to make herself look so old? ”

Archier smiled again to see how hopelessly provincial Hesper’s outlook was. She had absolutely no comprehension of current fashionable ideas of female beauty.

And now one of the aged faces she despised so much called out to him from within the pulsating flanges of a flashblast projector costume.

“Admiral! Come and dance with me!”

As he swept into the melee, Archier saw a look of jealous puzzlement fleetingly across Hesper’s face.

Not far away Gruwert, his costume switched off, the fabric hanging like rags about his corpulent bristly form, talked earnestly to Pout the chimera.

“So how do you gain your followers?” he asked.

For answer Pout smiled idiotically, his large eyes swivelling mysteriously towards the ceiling.

Gruwert gave an exasperated snuffle. He knew that this amalgam of primates could not be as stupid as he acted. Not to have all those people in tow, most of them apparently much brighter than himself.

These apes always were a shifty lot, he told himself. And that went for the hairless variety, too.

And in a corridor some yards from the room where Gruwert was entertaining Pout, Hako Ikematsu sat cross-legged in the rest position, inasmuch as a kosho could ever be said to rest. His spine was erect, his arms spread in the prescribed position, but his consciousness was not in suspension. He had merely blanked out his thoughts to make himself receptive to the emanations of others.

That way he was able to keep track of the presence of the man-ape chimera. Pout’s mental signature was distinctive: crafty, greedy thoughts in a brew of resentful malevolence that was, Ikematsu recognised, merely the perversion of the love of life that was natural to all mammals, but which in this case had been much ill-used.

Alongside it he sensed another presence, another signature: a sort of thrusting, porcine forcefulness, an impression of rooting, trampling power.

It was the tang of empire.

Chaotic music from the ballroom drifted up the corridor as a door opened at the far end, then was cut off again. Sinbiane and his new friend, a dark-eyed boy of about the same age whose black hair was gathered behind his head in a knot, approached.

“Hello uncle. This is Trixa. He’s on the battle staff here. He works the big guns. I told him you were a great warrior on Earth.”

Ikematsu rose to his feet and smiled down at the boy. “So you fought in the battle they are celebrating?”

“Yes sir,” Trixa told him boldly. “I coordinate eight guns here on the flagship. I helped knock out four of the enemy.” He paused. “Have you killed many people, sir?”

Ikematsu continued smiling. “I have killed no one, young cannoneer.”

, “A true warrior does not kill by his own hand,” Sinbiane intoned to the puzzled boy, “but only by the unavoidable fate of he who is killed.”

Sweating, Tengu found Ragshok in Claire de Lune’s restaurant. He was talking to Morgan and the Salpian engineer, Drue.

“The intermat,” Tengu choked out. “It’s started working!”

Ragshok’s eyes lit up. He licked his lips.

The Salpian had been eating from a plate in rapid gulps. He pushed it away. “It figures! I should have guessed it!”

Tengu stared at him.

“I was just telling the chief what I found out,” the engineer explained. “Whenever this fleet flies in feetol formation, all the bubbles merge into one big bubble. That’s why Imperial fleets are faster than our own ships. For the intermat to work, you must be inside the big bubble too.”

“These Imperials got a lot of tricks up their sleeve,” Morgan said admiringly.

“Let’s see them trick their way out of this one.” Ragshok leaned towards Tengu. “Are you sure it’s working? Have you been through?”

“Sure. To the flagship and back. I spent half an hour there.”

He would have stayed longer, once the smokes in the air got to him. But he had become nervous because of the looks he was getting. Besides, he had wanted to make sure he could get back.

“The flagship, no less,” Ragshok murmured. “What did you find there?”

“It’s weird. There’s some sort of victory dance going on. They call this a warfleet? It’s more like a ride down the Janja.” He was referring to the famous river replete with pleasure boats.

“A celebration. What a time to strike! And, anyway, we have to do it before the fleet comes out of feetol. Did you see many arms about?”

“Nobody was armed that I could see. It looks easier than taking a passenger liner, by far.”

“Okay. It will take an hour or more to get ready to move. Choose some men and reconnoitre the bigger ships, if you can do it discreetly. Make sure it’s the same all over.”

Broodingly Ragshok stared down into the main area of the restaurant from the executive’s balcony he had reserved for himself. They had got the dispenser operating and now everybody came to the restaurant for meals. Like the ship, it was overcrowded, and noisy too. In at least three places brawls were going on.

“We’re going to do it,” he said in a dreamlike voice. “We’re going to seize an Imperial Star Force fleet, one of the greatest instruments of power the galaxy has seen.”