Culture Shock Read online

  It was nearly two hours before the communications link came online, the terminal blinking up alerts and warnings that William had honestly never seen before, outside drills. The communications link was completely secure, isolated so completely that no one else could hope to intercept and eavesdrop. It struck William as needless paranoia, but if something was dangerously wrong ...

  And if this level of paranoia is justified, he thought grimly, just what is happening out there?

  He straightened as a face appeared in the display. The officer - an Imperial Navy Commodore, if William was reading the rank badge correctly - could have stepped off a recruiting poster, save for the tiredness etched into every line of his face. William felt a shiver running down his spine as he studied the newcomer. This was a man, he realised slowly, who no longer cared.

  “Premier,” the officer said. “I am Rear Admiral Carlow.”

  “Premier Huntsman,” William said, automatically. He’d never heard of a Rear Admiral Carlow, but that proved nothing. There were more crewmen and officers in the Imperial Navy than there were people on some planets. He keyed his terminal, ordering his staff to check for the Admiral’s file, then leaned forward. “Welcome to Arthur’s Seat.”

  “I’m afraid I can't stay,” Carlow said. “I must inform you, Premier, that Arthur’s Seat is about to receive a number of refugees.”

  William blinked in surprise. “What?”

  “Tarsus has kicked a vast number of Forsakers into space,” Carlow said. “I’m in the position of having to find a new home for them. Their transports will be arriving within the next two days.”

  “Impossible,” William said. Forsakers? Arthur’s Seat had a long history with the Forsakers, but that was all in the past. “Admiral, we cannot ...”

  “Under the terms of the Imperial Charter, you are obliged to take them,” Carlow said, cutting him off. “My legal staff will be quite happy to forward you a copy of their briefs, if you wish.”

  “Please,” William said, stunned. “Admiral ... why can’t they stay on Tarsus?”

  “They are no longer welcome,” Carlow said. “But then, they never were.”

  William cursed under his breath. Tarsus wasn't anything like as powerful as Terra Nova or Kennedy, but her system defence force was powerful enough to give the Imperial Navy pause. A confrontation could only have one outcome - or would have done, before Earth had fallen - yet it would have cost the Imperial Navy dearly. And now, with Earth gone and the Empire steadily collapsing, Tarsus was powerful enough to bend the sector fleet to her will.

  And us too, he thought, numbly.

  “They need a home,” Carlow said. His voice was curiously flat. “And they do have a claim on Arthur’s Seat.”

  “A claim that was dismissed by the Supreme Court,” William said, automatically. It hadn't taken long. The planet’s original settlers had been conned by the man who’d sold them the settlement rights. “Admiral, are you planning to merely dump them here?”

  “Yes,” Carlow said.

  William stared at him in absolute disbelief, realising that protest would be futile. He’d met polite officers and officers who enjoyed lording it over the weaker worlds, but he’d never met an officer who was just too tired to proceed. Carlow no longer believed in the Imperial Navy, let alone the Empire. He was trying to rid himself of one problem before a nastier one reared its ugly head.

  “Once the convoy arrives, they will be transported down to the surface,” Carlow informed him. “And then they will be in your hands.”

  “I see,” William hedged. “And how many people are we talking about, Admiral?”

  “Around fifty thousand,” Carlow said. He hesitated, noticeably. It was clear he didn't quite believe his own words. “Perhaps more. Tarsus is not the only world to consider forced relocations.”

  I suppose we should be grateful they didn't just kill the poor bastards, William thought. It would have been easy - and no one would have cared, not after eighty billion people died on Earth.

  He kept his face as impassive as possible. “I will have to discuss the matter with my Cabinet,” he said. Fifty thousand? Were they coming in one convoy or several? He had no idea where they could be held, let alone how they could be integrated into the wider community. Arthur’s Seat had never attracted many immigrants. “I trust you can wait that long?”

  “I can wait until the convoy actually arrives,” Carlow informed him. “But after that I need to empty the ships as quickly as possible.”

  William nodded in understanding. Transport ships had been in short supply ever since the Grand Senate’s taxes and regulations had driven independent spacers out of business or sent them fleeing to the Rim. Carlow would need those freighters back as quickly as possible ... and besides, the life support would be red-lined too. A small systems failure, harmless under normal circumstances, might be absolutely catastrophic. He didn't want to imagine just how many people could die if the life support failed.

  “Accordingly, I must demand that you put your shuttles at my disposal,” Carlow added, grimly. “Their crews will be required to serve under my authority. I can cite Imperial Law if necessary ...”

  “We don’t have many shuttles,” William said. He cursed under his breath. What were they going to do? “But those we have will be placed under your command.”

  “Then I will contact you again, when the convoy arrives,” Carlow said. “Thank you for your time, Premier.”

  His image vanished. William stared at the terminal for a long moment, then tapped the message that had just appeared in his inbox. Admiral Carlow’s file - which listed him as a commodore - was surprisingly detailed. Carlow’s family had close ties to the Grand Senate, which probably explained the promotion. But they were listed as living on Earth ... they might be dead, if they hadn’t managed to get off the planet before the end. Carlow wouldn't know, any more than William himself. Doubt and fear were no doubt already gnawing at his mind.

  Maybe he got promoted as an emergency measure, William thought, as he finished reading the file. Or maybe he promoted himself.

  He shook his head, mentally. Carlow hadn't struck him as the type of vainglorious fool who would promote himself, let alone invent a whole new title just for himself. But it hardly mattered. All that mattered was that Carlow’s solution to his problem had created a whole new problem for William. Arthur’s Seat had enough problems without adding one more.

  “And this will give the Opposition all the excuse they need to push for a vote of no-confidence, if they want it,” he muttered as he rose. He raised his voice. “Sykes?”

  The door opened. “Yes, sir?”

  “Inform the cabinet that the meeting is now being held immediately,” William ordered, grimly. None of them would be pleased at being dragged out of bed, not even his political allies, but there was no choice. Carlow had seen to that, damn him. “And ask the kitchen staff to hold breakfast until after the meeting.”

  Sykes looked doubtful. “They will need to eat, sir.”

  “I know,” William said. Sykes had always insisted that politicians - and everyone else - should take the time to eat before making any final decisions. A good meal made people feel better. “Have biscuits sent in with the coffee, but nothing else.”

  “Yes, sir,” Sykes said. He didn't sound approving, but William knew Sykes would do as he was told. “I’ll see to it at once.”

  William nodded, then walked through the door into the conference room and strode towards the window. Lothian - the capital city - seemed to glow in the darkness, streetlights marking out roads that seemed to twist and turn at random. Visitors to Arthur’s Seat had often commented on the randomness, William recalled, but there was something about the twisting streets that looked more natural than the straight lines and planned communities so common on many other worlds. Arthur’s Seat had never planned its own growth, beyond the bare minimum. The government had allowed the planet to evolve naturally.

  For better or worse, he thought, morbidl
y.

  He shook his head, slowly, as he picked out patches of darkness. Arthur’s Seat wasn't heavily dependent on interstellar trade, unlike some of their neighbours, but his homeworld hadn't been able to escape some dependence. A number of businesses had already failed, as economic shockwaves rolled over the planet; others, too, would fail as the full impact finally became clear. The cabinet had been debating ways to relieve the pressure on surviving businesses, but hours of argument hadn't led to any conclusion. Arthur’s Seat simply wasn't rich enough to buy what it needed, even if anyone was selling.

  And no one is selling now, he thought. Not now they have a pressing need for such supplies themselves.

  His eyes sought out the Parliament building, positioned on the other side of the city from Government House. The Empire Loyalists had ended up with egg on their face after the Empire collapsed, but so far the Opposition hadn't made a big issue of it. William rather suspected they didn't want to take responsibility for solving the problems themselves. If they managed to get a vote of no-confidence through Parliament, they might just win the General Election. And if that happened, they’d find themselves caught in the same bind facing William and his allies.

  And if they could do a better job, William told himself, they’d have tried to remove me from office by now.

  He saw a faint glimmer on the horizon and shivered. Dawn was breaking, the sun rising over a planet that no longer quite knew what was going on. Thousands of people had already lost their jobs; thousands more knew their own jobs were on the line. And, no matter what the Freeholders said, not everyone was qualified to run a farm or work in the planet's very limited industrial base. Arthur’s Seat couldn't just batten down the hatches and avoid the interstellar turmoil washing through the galaxy. But his homeworld couldn't play a major role on the galactic stage either.

  Sykes entered the room, his measured tread echoing in the quiet air. “Sir,” he said. “The Cabinet members are on their way. The staff are already deflecting calls from their aides, asking for background briefings and suchlike.”

  He hesitated. “The media has already caught wind of something.”

  William nodded, never taking his eyes off the city below. Someone in the Orbital Guard would have talked, of course. It wasn't as if they had a professional military. An Imperial Navy starship racing towards Arthur’s Seat like a bat out of hell? Of course someone would have talked! And the Cabinet being summoned so early in the morning? The media on Arthur’s Seat wasn't anything like as intrusive as the media of a dozen other worlds, but they did keep an eye on the government. They knew something was up.

  Centuries of galactic peace coming to an end, he thought. It still stunned - and terrified - him. The Empire had been omnipresent for over a thousand years. Dominoes falling everywhere. And everyone wondering just when the next blow is going to fall.

  “It doesn't matter,” he said, quietly. There was no point in making a fuss about it, not now. “Have the Cabinet shown into the conference room, then serve the coffee. The rest of the world will know soon enough.”

  “Yes, sir,” Sykes said.

  Chapter Two

  This may seem perplexing. As of Year Fifteen of the Post-Empire era, over four thousand life-bearing worlds were charted and colonised by humanity, not to mention the eleven thousand worlds that could be terraformed with a certain amount of investment. How could there not be enough room for everyone?

  - Professor Leo Caesius. Ethnic Streaming and the End of Empire.

  The starship felt profoundly ... unnatural.

  John, Son of John, made his way down the long corridor, trying desperately to keep from flinching at every random sound as he looked for his sister. The entire hull was quivering slightly, an omnipresent background hum echoing through the air. He’d spent his entire life on Tarsus, waiting desperately for the promised farm. The starship felt utterly unreal, utterly dangerous beyond words. A single mistake could kill him.

  They told us that high technology could solve all our woes, he thought, remembering the founding words. But it only made them worse.

  He shivered as he heard a clunking sound, then turned and inched through the hatch into the observation blister. Very few Forsakers had dared to make their way out of the holds, let alone explore the remainder of the giant ship. It was the perfect hiding place for someone who didn't want to be found, someone who knew her own people wouldn't dare to come looking for her. And, as the eerie lights of phase space flickered outside the blister, John found himself in perfect agreement. The primal urge to run back to his bedroom and hide under his bed was so overwhelming that it was all he could do to keep walking forward.

  “John,” his sister said. She didn't sound pleased to see him. “Why are you here?”

  “Looking for you,” John said. He forced himself to close the hatch. “Why are you here?”

  Hannah said nothing for a long moment, then turned her head so she was staring out of the blister again. “I wanted to be alone.”

  John nodded as he forced himself to walk up to the bench and sit down next to her. It was hard to believe, sometimes, that they were twins. He was tall, but slightly pudgy; Hannah was shorter, but so thin that it was easy to believe she was actually taller. They shared their mother’s dark hair, yet hers was so long it touched the small of her back while his was cropped close to his skull. And while she should have been wearing the white cap of an unmarried girl, she was bareheaded. It took him a moment to realise that she was holding it in her right hand.

  “You shouldn't be here,” he said, softly.

  Hannah glanced at him. “Neither should you.”

  “I came here after you,” John said, ignoring her tone. “Hannah, this isn't a safe place ...”

  His sister snorted. “As opposed to spending my time in the hold?”

  “You’ll get a whipping for sure if someone else catches you here,” John warned, frantically. There were times when he thought Hannah liked provoking the Elders. He couldn’t name another girl who had quite so many remonstrances to her name. “You could be contaminated ...”

  Hannah shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

  “I’m serious,” John said.

  “So am I,” Hannah said. She sobered. “I should have stayed on Tarsus.”

  John winced. He’d heard that all of the young women - particularly the unmarried ones - had been offered the chance to stay, if they chose to abandon the Forsaker lifestyle. Hannah ... Hannah had been dissatisfied for years, dissatisfied enough that John thought she would have left, if she’d been given the opportunity. He’d assumed the whole story was a rumour, one spread by the starship’s crew. There was little love between them and their unwanted passengers.

  “I’m glad you didn’t,” he said, truthfully. Hannah could be a handful at times, but he loved her.

  “Mother needed me, I thought,” Hannah mused. The bitter regret in her voice shocked him. “I told myself I couldn’t leave her.”

  She shook her head. “And now Joel is bringing me flowers.”

  John stared at her. “Joel?”

  “Joel,” Hannah confirmed. “And do you really think Konrad is going to turn him down?”

  John bit off a nasty word that would earn him a whipping, if their mother had heard it pass his lips. Konrad, their stepfather, never denied Joel anything. If Joel wanted Hannah’s hand in marriage, Konrad was unlikely to raise any real objections. It wasn't as if Joel and Hannah were actually related, after all. And people had been muttering for years that Hannah should be married. There was something profoundly unnatural about a nineteen-year-old girl without a husband.

  “You could refuse him,” he pointed out.

  Hannah snorted. “And you expect Joel to accept it? Or mother?”

  John shook his head, slowly. Joel was a Steward, with every prospect of becoming an Elder when his father died. No one doubted he had the well-being of the community at heart, even though his zeal worried - if not terrified - quite a few people. And Hannah’s reputation d
idn’t help, either. Very few fathers would approve their sons playing court to her. Their mother was worried, desperately worried, that Hannah would never get married. She’d do everything in her power to make sure that Hannah and Joel were married without delay.

  “You should have told me,” he said, finally.

  Hannah snorted, again. “And what would you have done about it?”

  John flushed angrily, but he had to admit she had a point. He’d never had the nerve to stand up to anyone, not even his sister. He hadn't even fought when the police had arrived to round up the entire community and march them onto shuttles. It had just seemed ... pointless.

  “Mother will nag me senseless if I go back,” Hannah said. She rose and paced over to the blister. “And Konrad will push Joel’s suit.”

  “She sent me to find you,” John said. “Hannah ...”