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Authors: Joseph O'Day
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approaching planet. “Earth is crowded. Life is cheap. In the lower levels a person can be bought or sold for a handful of credits. Some even sell themselves into slavery just to escape their poverty . . . or death by starvation.”
Brogan had read plenty about Earth while he was growing up. But never had anyone so gripped him with the somber and grim realities of humanity’s home planet. “Aren’t there any police? Can’t the Emperor do anything about all the suffering?”
“Oh, yes . . . the police. The Imperial Guard they’re called. And they’re very efficient if they choose to be. But they’re not civil police; they’re military police. They’re supposed to spend most of their energies protecting the Emperor’s person, sovereignty, and interests. The local police have more than they can handle and never venture into the lower levels. As a rule most people have to stick up for themselves. Lots of citizens carry their own weapon or hire a personal guard. But only first-class citizens are allowed to carry lethal weapons.”
“Here. Before I put the stun gun away, let me program it for your hand so it will be ready for disembarkation.”
Unger took Brogan’s hand and performed the necessary functions, but Brogan wasn’t paying attention. He was distracted by the view screen. “Hey, what’s that?” he exclaimed. Ahead was a large collection of ships moving in various directions around an imaginary center.
“That’s rendezvous point Bravo,” rejoined Unger. “We’ll leave the transports there and go directly to Earth. The transports stop here or at one of the other five rendezvous points in orbit until they receive their landing coordinates. Look,” he said pointing, “what do you think of Earth?”
Brogan looked intently at the green, blue, and brown planet streaked with the white flecks of circling clouds. He felt a strange awe and a sense of homecoming as he gazed at his heritage. “It’s beautiful,” he breathed.
The ship lurched as the Shark , which had turned on its tractor system upon reentry into normal space, disengaged from the transport group. Leaving them behind, the escort ship continued on to the rendezvous point.
Brogan began to feel intermittent sensations of falling, punctuated with periods of increased gravity. “What’s happening?” he asked.
“That’s normal deceleration gambol. We’re decelerating so rapidly that the ship’s computer can’t keep the internal gravity constant. But we can tolerate that a whole lot better than if they failed altogether. We’d be plastered all over the wall.”
Once Unger mentioned it, Brogan remembered reading about deceleration gambol while in school. Even though ships had plenty of time to decelerate gradually once they came out of jump drive, it was quicker to travel at top speed for as long as possible, then decelerate as rapidly as the computer was capable of controlling.
Brogan excused himself to finish packing his things. Once the ship was docked, he joined Unger, with the greater part of the Shark crew, aboard the shuttle that would transfer them to Earth. Once on the planet, Brogan fell into line at the Mexcity debarkation center to undergo the scrutiny of the verifications officer. Everyone leaving the spaceport had to pass through the VO.
Whereas the Emperor was not very concerned about who left Earth, he was extremely cautious about who came in. Ever mindful of the possibility of a coup, the number of military personnel on Earth at any one time was strictly monitored. Shore leaves were canceled and ships ordered back into space if the computers ever indicated an imbalance. The Emperor tried to keep his Fusiliers busy elsewhere so that their commanders would not have time to plot a means of replacing him in the royal palace at Rio.
The VO line was moving rapidly now, and soon it was Brogan’s turn to pass through the doors. But as he began to step through, a speaker blared at him: “Subject has no citizenship
Brogan had read plenty about Earth while he was growing up. But never had anyone so gripped him with the somber and grim realities of humanity’s home planet. “Aren’t there any police? Can’t the Emperor do anything about all the suffering?”
“Oh, yes . . . the police. The Imperial Guard they’re called. And they’re very efficient if they choose to be. But they’re not civil police; they’re military police. They’re supposed to spend most of their energies protecting the Emperor’s person, sovereignty, and interests. The local police have more than they can handle and never venture into the lower levels. As a rule most people have to stick up for themselves. Lots of citizens carry their own weapon or hire a personal guard. But only first-class citizens are allowed to carry lethal weapons.”
“Here. Before I put the stun gun away, let me program it for your hand so it will be ready for disembarkation.”
Unger took Brogan’s hand and performed the necessary functions, but Brogan wasn’t paying attention. He was distracted by the view screen. “Hey, what’s that?” he exclaimed. Ahead was a large collection of ships moving in various directions around an imaginary center.
“That’s rendezvous point Bravo,” rejoined Unger. “We’ll leave the transports there and go directly to Earth. The transports stop here or at one of the other five rendezvous points in orbit until they receive their landing coordinates. Look,” he said pointing, “what do you think of Earth?”
Brogan looked intently at the green, blue, and brown planet streaked with the white flecks of circling clouds. He felt a strange awe and a sense of homecoming as he gazed at his heritage. “It’s beautiful,” he breathed.
The ship lurched as the Shark , which had turned on its tractor system upon reentry into normal space, disengaged from the transport group. Leaving them behind, the escort ship continued on to the rendezvous point.
Brogan began to feel intermittent sensations of falling, punctuated with periods of increased gravity. “What’s happening?” he asked.
“That’s normal deceleration gambol. We’re decelerating so rapidly that the ship’s computer can’t keep the internal gravity constant. But we can tolerate that a whole lot better than if they failed altogether. We’d be plastered all over the wall.”
Once Unger mentioned it, Brogan remembered reading about deceleration gambol while in school. Even though ships had plenty of time to decelerate gradually once they came out of jump drive, it was quicker to travel at top speed for as long as possible, then decelerate as rapidly as the computer was capable of controlling.
Brogan excused himself to finish packing his things. Once the ship was docked, he joined Unger, with the greater part of the Shark crew, aboard the shuttle that would transfer them to Earth. Once on the planet, Brogan fell into line at the Mexcity debarkation center to undergo the scrutiny of the verifications officer. Everyone leaving the spaceport had to pass through the VO.
Whereas the Emperor was not very concerned about who left Earth, he was extremely cautious about who came in. Ever mindful of the possibility of a coup, the number of military personnel on Earth at any one time was strictly monitored. Shore leaves were canceled and ships ordered back into space if the computers ever indicated an imbalance. The Emperor tried to keep his Fusiliers busy elsewhere so that their commanders would not have time to plot a means of replacing him in the royal palace at Rio.
The VO line was moving rapidly now, and soon it was Brogan’s turn to pass through the doors. But as he began to step through, a speaker blared at him: “Subject has no citizenship
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