Barrington Bayley - The Zen Gun

A squeal of delight sounded behind Archier. It came from Gruwert, who together with others of the Command Staff had been standing silently listening to the exchange.

“Yes, I have,” whispered Archier. “Indeed I have.”

Carefully he removed his admiral’s ceremonial hat, with its bell-shaped crown, its glittering feathers, and placed it on his desk.

My fleet , he thought agonisedly. My beautiful Ten-Fleet .

But of course it was not his fleet, and never had been. It was the Empire’s, and now the Empire belonged to the pigs.

Gruwert came trotting forward, snuffing the air. “No hard feelings, Archier old chap? It’s all for the best, you know. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like you to get out of my office. It’s time to start doing things properly!”

At last Admiral Gruwert felt he had a proper outlet for his energies. He was enjoying his new role immensely.

Lifting his snout from the trough of choice delicacies he had installed in his office, he returned his attention to his duties.

The fleet was very nearly restored to operational status and was heading at top speed for Axaline Sector, the region it had been forced to quit when summoned to Escoria. Imperial Council Member Hiroshamak had given Gruwert explicit orders: there were signs that Axaline felt encouraged by recent events, not to revolt exactly, but to mount a campaign of stubborn civil disobedience, and the sector was to be discouraged by peremptory means.

The Axalines would find their error of judgement a most costly one. Gruwert recalled the planet Rostia. They would get no reprieve this time, he promised himself with satisfaction. It would be knuckle under at once or—

A voice interrupted his scanning of the weapons readiness reports. It was the new pig brigadier he had put in charge of the Drop Commando.

“Admiral, something odd is happening. One or two rebel pirates have been turning up. I thought they had all been dealt with.”

“Eh?” Gruwert thought quickly. “What have you done with them?”

“Scanned them away, naturally.”

Gruwert muttered under his breath. He was annoyed, while at the same time pleased that the Commandos were as keen as ever. They were armed permanently now, and stationed as a guard force throughout every ship of the fleet. It had not been lost on Gruwert that there might be internal dissension to deal with—indeed, he would not feel entirely safe until he received postings of some of the newly trained weasels whose loyalty was guaranteed.

“Don’t scan them,” he ordered. “If you find any more, take them alive. They’re probably the ones who started disappearing shortly after we were boarded. Remember? Those funny lines in the air? It was the space rent doing it.” He reflected again. “Some of our own people vanished too… leave that in my hands.”

“Yes sir.”

Gruwert cursed briefly as the Brigadier broke contact. Why did the Drop Commando have to bring him this news? It should have been picked up by Archier, the new Ship Management Officer! At any rate, he would need Archier to survey the ship’s population and see if any vanished personnel had reappeared.

He put out a call to Archier. To his fury, there was no answer. The man wasn’t contactable!

Such incompetence was all too believable! He would have him demoted yet again! He would have him cleaning the decks with the robots! The pesky human!

Gruwert suppressed his anger for long enough to think. The threat from the Tent in space still remained. The Imperial Council was supposed to be organising a special scientific organisation to deal with it, but Star Force wasn’t involved. Gruwert got the impression the Council was hoping the rent would go away on its own, which he didn’t really think was the right attitude.

If people really were reappearing from wherever it was they had vanished to, they probably had some valuable information.

He heaved himself to his trotters, telling his adjutant to stay where he was. Nothing like a personal appearance to an awkward moment for keeping the staff on their toes…

Fleet Admiral (Retired) Archier, now Acting Ship Management Officer, sat disconsolately holding hands with Hesper Positana. She had discarded her rebel’s uniform, after he had persuaded her that transportation to Diadem would not, any longer, mean a life of luxury and leisure. Instead, he had contrived to place her on the ship’s register.

“How could the humans among you let it happen? ” she protested.

She still did not understand about Diadem. “It just happened,” he said simply.

“But they’re not people . They’re pigs. Pigs! ”

“They are people. Hesper. To us, animals are people as well as human beings.”

“Well they’re not very nice people, are they?”

He was silent. He hardly dared mention what the future almost certainly held. A pig-ruled galaxy. A tyranny, probably, in which humans might even be relegated to second-class citizenship eventually. He was sure the pigs would never agree to share power with humans again, no matter what they said at present. The future belonged to them. They alone had the crude self-confidence, the ruthlessness, the lover of power.

Neither did he believe the coup had been as bloodless as Hiroshamak claimed. There must have been opposition. It looked, now, as if they had actually used the fleets. All except Ten-Fleet had been taken over simultaneously by senior pig officers. Obviously, then, there had been a deal of forward planning. Probably Gruwert and his pig pals had been waiting for a signal too…

“There’s talk of other species getting first-class citizenship too, if they prove themselves,” he remarked emptily.

“The weasels, most probably! They’ll grant them privileges, to make them even more enthusiastic.” Hesper squeezed his hand and leaned closer. “Just what is your loyalty to?” she asked anxiously. “Is it to the Empire, no matter who owns it? Or to mankind, and civilisation?”

“Need civilisation be man’s alone?”

“Yes!” she said emphatically. “Because only man is truly intelligent. These animals of yours—the only intelligence they have is what you gave them. It’s borrowed. Apart from that, they’re still undeveloped—not really sentient.”

Archier listened carefully to her words. They sounded novel and strange. Was this how people in the provinces thought?

He sighed. “I don’t know what you would have me do, Hesper. The pigs are in an invulnerable position. There’s scarcely any opposition that I’ve noticed among the flagship staff, and they are the most dedicated citizens in the Empire. In fact, I believe they welcome the pigs’ coup. The pigs will make the Empire strong again. Strong enough to claim the undisputed allegiance of every inhabited world. Strong enough eventually to embrace the whole galaxy—every biota-compatible planet. That’s what the people who run Star Force want, both men and animals.”

“That right, SMO,” said a lusty voice.

It was Gruwert. He came waddling forward, having apparently caught Archier’s last words. “It’s good you agree things have taken a turn for the better. But keep your communicator active in future, SMO. I’ve been looking for you.”

He swung on Hesper, peering at her. “I don’t believe I recognise you, my dear. What’s your section?”

“She’s in my department, Admiral,” Archier said quickly, noting with alarm the loathing with which Hesper stared back at his superior officer.

“And a most touching scene the two of you were putting on, if I may say so. Not showing a lack of, shall we say, enthusiasm for the new order, is she? If so you’d better talk some sense into her. Disloyalty won’t be tolerated!” His voice rose as he said this and he glared hard at Hesper. “What’s the matter with you? Don’t you want the Empire to be mighty, triumphant? The whole galaxy belongs to us of right, and it will all have to be held together. So make up your mind to it, because nothing can stop us now.”