Free Ragamuffin by Tobias S. Buckell Page B

them.”
    “That’s a whole-scale war,” Etsudo said. “Since when have we been the Satrapy’s direct enforcers?” The Maatan could do this. They’d dropped asteroids on Earth during the pacification and destroyed Earth attempts to strike back. Why the Hongguo?
    “But look at what it means.” Brandon had an eager smile. “For all these years we tried to prove to the Satraps that humans were trustworthy. We kept technology in check, surgically killed off the worst elements. We’re proved our worth, we’re standing at their right hand now, and since we have access to all those technologies anyway, we’ll be like monks after a dark age. We’ll be able to slowly introduce things again. The Hongguo will stand at the front of humanity.”
    “I don’t know,” Etsudo muttered. “We were doing well at our job before.”
    “Let me tell you something personal though, old friend.” Brandon leaned over. “You want to know why we should really help Deng any way we can? There are damaged ships out there, big ships whose captains have screwed up, Etsudo. Do well now, you and I could get a bigger ship, more crew. You could get off this small trading ship and into bigger things.”
    Etsudo stared down at the smooth table. He missed the days Kenji had told him about. The days when the Hongguo was just a company paid to explore the wormholes and map out all the forks and streams connecting the various worlds, just a trading company.
    And what of his ship when this was all done? Etsudo looked around. What would become of him, and all his memories as the Hongguo changed into something else at the Satrapy’s bidding?
    Etsudo folded his arms around himself, feeling alone in the heart of his ship. He stared at Brandon as he sipped his tea. He wasn’t sure what was going to come next. For all his loyalty, and the loyalty his father had instilled in him to the Hongguo, Etsudo would hardly give up his ship and his own mind without a fight.
    To Thule then. Alarms sounded as his ship prepared to transit another wormhole on its path upstream.
    And now it was also time to introduce Brandon to the rest of the crew. The murderers, rapists, and criminals that Etsudo’s life depended on. Brandon now the latest in his set of odd acquisitions.

CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    D o you believe in redemption?” Etsudo asked Brandon as he entered the cockpit.
    “Redemption?”
    “Yes, redemption.” The cockpit sat nestled deep in the heart of the ship. Acceleration chairs dotted the tight confines of the smooth blue cocoon. The cockpit door sealed itself behind them. In emergencies the cockpit would refilter its own air and use its own tiny nuclear reactor to run everything on the
Takara Bune
except its antimatter engines.
    “I’m not religious,” Brandon said.
    “You don’t have to believe in religion to believe in redemption.” Etsudo looked around at the gamma crew. “Bahul, the pilot for this shift, he fired a nuclear bomb into the heart of a habitat from a shuttle. He did that for the League of Human Affairs.”
    Brandon looked over at Bahul, who nodded back at him from the pilot’s couch. Strapped in, brown eyes glazed, he stared back at Brandon.
    Etsudo turned and pointed at the sallow-skinned man with green eyes and emaciated face. “And this is Fabiyan, our mechanic. He cut three men’s heads off. Kept them as trophies.”
    Fabiyan nodded and smiled.
    One more for the gamma crew. “Michiko.” Etsudo nodded his head. “Gamma’s deckhand.”
    “What did she do?”
    “A very bad bar fight.” All three of gamma crew’s shaved heads gleamed in the cockpit light.
    “Welcome aboard, Brandon.” Michiko smiled.
    “Redemption.” Etsudo grabbed Brandon’s shoulder. “They all remember their crimes. Michiko remembers stabbing her best friend in the heart, Fabiyan remembers cutting the heads of three innocent victims off, and Bahul lives with knowledge that he killed thousands. The alpha and zeta crew are the same. This is my crew, I