Ascending - James Alan Gardner [97]
Aarhus nodded. “I’ve heard that too. But never say that to a Cashling either, unless you want to drive the bastard into a rage. Let’s not do that—we’re in enough trouble as it is.”
“Because they wish to take us as slaves?” I said. “We should inform them that nice religions do not do such things.”
“I told you, Pu Naram isn’t a religion; the Cashlings call it a ‘proven economic doctrine.’” Aarhus made a face. “And even though the working definition of Pu Naram changes ten times a year, it always retains one core principle: screwing aliens, especially ones who can’t fight back. Over the years, outreach crusades have come across a lot of aliens in distress—the Cashlings don’t have a navy like ours, so crusades are the primary source of search-and-rescue. By long-established tradition, a passing crusade won’t save your life until you swear ten years of indentured servitude.”
“But they must save our lives,” I said. “Are they not required to do so by the League of Peoples?”
Lajoolie shook her head. “Not unless they caused our predicament in the first place. They aren’t obliged to help us, and if they do, they can charge whatever price they want.”
“Hmph!” I said. “I do not think much of that policy.”
“But the Cashlings love it,” Aarhus answered. “They consider it a wonderful omen when a crusade scoops up slaves—it boosts the prophet’s prestige. Of course, if we’re really lucky, this particular prophet might be liberal enough to take a ransom instead: letting us hand over a bucket of cash instead of ten years’ hard labor.”
He did not sound cheered by that prospect, but I thought it allowed us an excellent means of emancipation. “Then we shall hand over Royal Hemlock,” I said. “It is quite large and splendid, even if it is broken. Parts of it even have carpet. The ship must be worth enough to pay all our ransoms.”
“Probably,” Aarhus agreed, “but we can’t use it for that. By Cashling laws of salvage, Hemlock already belongs to the crusade—the ship became theirs as soon they took it in tow. They’ll claim everything on board: even the clothes on our backs. If they accept a ransom at all, it’ll have to come from somewhere else.” He gave me a sympathetic look. “Somehow I don’t think you have family at home with cash in their pockets.” Turning to Lajoolie, he asked, “How about you?”
She bit her lip. “No one on my homeworld would pay a cent. As for my husband’s family…”
“I know,” Aarhus said. “They’ve gone missing.”
“What about you?” Lajoolie asked.
The sergeant shook his head. “My only family is the Outward Fleet; and at the moment, I don’t feel like turning to the Admiralty for help. Ten years of slavery is nothing compared to what the High Council intends for us—what they still might do if they hear we’re being held by the Cashlings. The council will swoop in, pay our ransoms, and take possession of us from the crusade…whereupon we’ll all disappear down some deep dark well.”
“Then we must not let that happen,” I said. “We shall battle the Cashlings and…and…”
Sergeant Aarhus just looked at me. He did not have to explain why we could not fight; if we put up resistance, the Cashlings would just go away, leaving us to drift in space. Perhaps we could merely pretend to submit until we were taken aboard the Cashling ships…but by then, they might have locked us in irons. Even worse, the many people of Royal Hemlock would be billeted over all the small vessels of the Cashling crusade. I would likely be separated from Festina and Nimbus and little Starbiter and Uclod and Lajoolie and even Aarhus.
That would be Just Awful.
“So what will the Cashlings do first?” I asked Aarhus.
He thought about it. “With our communications dead, they can’t just call and ask us to surrender. They’ll have to send someone over in person.”
“Where will this emissary arrive?”
“The only safe way into the ship is our manual airlock. That’s back in the rear transport bay.”
“Then we must go there,” I said. “We shall meet this Cashling and discuss terms.”
I