Jeffrey Carver - Eternity's End

The boarding was a brief, violent affair. The liner, carrying some limited armament against the perils of Golen Space, was hopelessly outmatched. Her fighting potential lasted about ten seconds, and by then half a dozen members of the crew were dead. To Legroeder it was a blur—emerging from the net and staggering out onto the bridge, he was met by armed raiders and herded through the ship’s passageways at gunpoint, through clouds of noxious gas and smoke. From the airlock, he was shoved through a passage tube to the raider ship—and then into a hold with about thirty other people; and his life as a free man came to an end.

The court panel interrupted him, stating that they would get to his “captivity period” at a later time. Legroeder fell silent, gazing at the panel. “We’d like to know,” said a man sitting to the right of the chairwoman, “if you can tell us a little more about the fate of others from the Ciudad de los Angeles .” This man represented the Spacing Authority, the enforcement agency that dealt with pirates. Why was he here, if Legroeder wasn’t on trial? “How many would you say were taken prisoner, and how many executed by the pirates?”

Legroeder stared at the man. “That’s hard to say. I didn’t see it all.”

The man wore a pained expression, as though he hated asking such questions. “But what would be your best estimate?”

Legroeder turned to Kalm-Lieu in frustration.

Kalm-Lieu’s soft, boyish features were twisted into a frown as he rose. “My client does not have that information, if it please the panel.”

“Counsel,” said the chairwoman, “we’re only trying to complete our picture of the situation. If your client would give his best estimate as to the number captured, and the number executed by the pirates—”

Kalm-Lieu glanced at Legroeder and shrugged.

Legroeder sighed. “If I had to guess , I’d say that maybe half to two thirds of the crew and passengers were taken prisoner, and the rest killed during the boarding. Is that what you mean by executed?”

“Wouldn’t you call it an execution to kill innocent people in the process of hijacking a ship?” asked the man from the Authority.

“Sure,” Legroeder said. “I would.” But in his seven years, he’d seen people summarily executed who weren’t doing anything at all to resist. The thought of it made him ill, even now. But as for casualties in the boarding, he had never really known the true number, because most of them he never saw again—including Captain Hyutu. But he had the oddest recollection about the captain, one that had stayed with him all these years. In his last glimpse of Hyutu, he had seen on the captain’s face an expression of outrage and indignation, as the raiders stormed through the ship. This would have seemed exactly right on another man’s face. But not on Hyutu’s: the man had always looked stiff and expressionless when he was angry. Legroeder had always wondered about that.

“I see,” said the panelist.

The chairwoman of the panel spoke inaudibly to the other two. Then: “That will be all for today, Rigger Legroeder. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Kalm-Lieu accompanied Legroeder to the Spacing Authority holding center and waited while Legroeder made a call to the hospital. No change in Maris’s condition. Returning to join his counsel in the small visitors’ lounge, Legroeder shook his head. Maris had been in a coma since their escape, and was now under intensive care in the hospital. Legroeder was torn between gratitude that she was alive and guilt that she lay in a coma because he’d encouraged her to flee with him. It wasn’t just the wounds; the pirates had put implants in the back of her head specifically programmed to deter escape. The doctors here were at a loss as to how to remove them without killing her. Legroeder wondered if they’d ever even seen an implant, much less a booby-trapped one.

“I’m sorry,” Kalm-Lieu said, handing him a cup of coffee—real coffee, supposedly, not like what they’d had at the raider outpost.

“Not your fault,” Legroeder murmured, taking a sip. It burned going down.

“The news is on,” Kalm-Lieu said, pointing to the holo in the corner of the room.

“News,” Legroeder whispered. How long had it been since he’d seen news—uncensored journalism about what was happening in the rest of the world. Rest of the world, hell—the rest of the known galaxy. He cradled his coffee and watched.

“…Discussions toward improved trade relations with the Narseil homeworlds hit a snag today with revelations of a preferred status offered to Clendornan traders by the Narseil merchant coalition. Reports suggest that the Faber Eridani Trade Minister would be unwilling to open further doors to Narseil business interests without some clear, reciprocal action on the part of the Narseil. This seems to contradict earlier predictions that the Faber Eridani government would actively court increased trade with the Narseil…”

Legroeder sipped the hot liquid, letting the reporter’s words drone on. These concerns felt so alien—Narseil, Clendornan, interstellar trading relations.

“You know,” Kalm-Lieu said, shaking his head. “I wonder how long they’ll go on pretending we don’t need decent relations with the Narseil. It’s not as if we have to like each other. We could still work with them.”

Legroeder glanced at him, slightly dazed. Who cares? he thought. The politicos have always hated the Narseil .

“Stagnation,” Kalm-Lieu said. “That’s what’s happened to our society. And it started a long time ago..”

“You still trade with other worlds, don’t you?” Could things have changed that much?

Kalm-Lieu darted a glance at him. “Sure—of course we trade. But mostly just among humans—and Centrists, at that. In a lot of ways, we’re a very isolationist society. But it’s been so long, now…”

Legroeder squinted, trying to absorb what the lawyer was saying. He’d been away from civilization for seven years, and Faber Eridani wasn’t his homeworld, anyway. But now that he was here, he supposed he’d better start learning…

The holo broke into his awareness again. “In other news from the offworld front, a preliminary RiggerGuild inquest has been looking into the strange case of a fugitive star rigger who arrived on this planet ten days ago, after a harrowing escape from Golen Space raiders—”

Legroeder choked on his coffee.

“Seven years ago, Renwald Legroeder served aboard the interstellar liner Ciudad de los Angeles when it was captured by raiders. Spacing authorities reportedly suspect Rigger Legroeder of collaboration in the capture, quoting sworn testimony that the rigger deliberately steered the Ciudad de los Angeles toward the pirate ship. Rigger Legroeder, through his Guild-appointed attorney, denies all such allegations. Questioned by the press, Spacing Commissioner Ottoson North issued the following statement.”

The reporter’s image was replaced by that of a well-groomed man wearing a dress tunic with a gold, interlocking-ring insignia over his breast. “Let me make one thing clear: this Spacing Authority will never tolerate collaboration with pirates. However, Rigger Legroeder must have the opportunity to defend himself in a court of law. He has found his way to Faber Eridani after a death-defying escape from a pirate outpost, and he has every right to expect fair treatment. As long as Ottoson North is commissioner, he will get that fair treatment. For all we know, the man may be a hero.”

The commissioner was interrupted by a reporter shouting, “What about allegations he was responsible for the loss of Ciudad de los Angeles ?”