Pandora's Box
Pandora's Box is a Traveller short story I wrote around 2002 or so as a promotional piece.
"Well, Captain?"
Jaime Vorstaten sighed. With one stubby finger he pushed the brim of his Navy-issue Commander's hat upwards a little. The brim was, he had to admit, somewhat askew these days. He decided it lent him a rakish air, like the devil-may-care free trader captains that graced Sixday-Morning vid shows. The battered cap matched the leather duster coat and three days' stubble, creating a look that Jaime would reluctantly admit he rather liked.
His appearance was probably not the most appropriate for a formal hearing, especially a hearing in which he was going to have to explain how he'd managed to lose an entire armoured safe full of mail. Not that it was likely to matter all that much.
Sir Mary Ultiski, heading the three-person hearing in the Emperor's name, glanced to her left. Minister Varn, the black-suited Bureaucracy representative seated there, tapped his long fingers impatiently. Jaime could just about hear the mental knife-sharpening going on in Varn's mind.
"I jettisoned it, Sir," Jaime said flatly, deciding that nothing was going to save him now.
Sir Mary flicked her gaze to the Scout Service representative on the other side. Field Scout Surnine looked like he'd come straight from Xboat duty – he might well have – and had been struggling to maintain his interest through the opening remarks. Now he shot upright, choking on his glass of water.
"Would you care to amplify that statement?" Sir Mary asked mildly.
Jaime shrugged. "I used the captain's override. Triggered the explosive bolts and dumped the safe out the bottom of the ship. It went into the sea over the Kligan Offshore Trench. Sank in about five kilometres of water. Sir. The safe could conceivably have survived the drop and the ocean-bottom conditions. With the right equipment, it may even be retrievable."
"What are the chances of THAT?" demanded the bureaucrat.
"Slim. At best. Assuming a silt or mud trench bottom and no serious collisions on the way down," the Scout responded, poking his water glass away from him. "Which is to say that the thing's probably been crushed flat and eaten by a hitherto-undiscovered sea monster by now. Best assume a total loss."
"Gentles. It is my decision as to whether the Emperor's mail is to be written off or not," Sir Mary admonished. "Now, Captain. You are aware of the significance of a mail contract?"
Jaime nodded. "Yes, of course I am. I had to jump through all sorts of hoops to get an Auxiliary Mail Carrier license. Armed ship, trained security personnel... my own experience in the Naval Reserve...."
"And you are aware that interstellar mail is guaranteed by Imperial Edict?"
"Yes." Jaime quietly ground his teeth, trying not to lose his temper.
"And that Imperial High Law has very specific penalties for interference with the mail?"
"Yes!" Jaime snapped. "Yes, I am fully aware of every single minute clause in all seven of the Mail Ordinance documents. I know that I was responsible for carrying and protecting the mail... responsible to the Scout Service Communications Branch... to the Bureaucracy and to the Emperor himself! I know this, you know this, these gentles know this... my ship's cat has a pretty good idea too! So let's just get on with it!"
"You do not dispute that you wilfully destroyed Imperial Property; specifically a safe full of mail?" the bureaucrat asked.
"Oh yeah, I dispute that! I dumped the safe, yes. And I knew it'd probably be trashed as a result. But no way did I... would I... deliberately destroy the mail. Without the mail contract my ship can't even cover the maintenance bill... besides, I know the penalties for an Imperial Felony like trashing a mailsafe. So yeah, I'm disputing that!"
"Captain," Sir Mary put in smoothly. "The hearing accepts that you did not personally destroy the cargo in your trust. However, can you deny that you deliberately undertook a course of action, knowing that it would cause the mail safe to be lost?"
"No. I can't deny that."
"You do not seem to be a madman, Captain," Sir Mary said. "Your record since your ship – the Pandora – was awarded a mail contract has been quite satisfactory. I am also aware that you have in the past served acceptably in the Naval Reserve, rising to the rank of Lieutenant Commander. My impression of you is of a competent and steady officer of no great distinction. Does that sound like a reasonable assessment?"
Jaime grunted, refusing to grace this uncharitable description of his career with an answer.
"Further," Sir Mary went on, "Fulfilment of this contract was vital to continued operation of your vessel. Yet you jettisoned the safe and allowed its contents to be lost, in the full knowledge of the consequences. Do you agree with this statement?"
"Yes," Jaime replied.
"The letter of the law is very clear on this matter," Sir Mary said. "If you choose to say nothing further, the hearing will be closed and the usual penalties will be applied to yourself and your crew. You may face prison, and will at least lose your Master's license."
"Or," said the bureaucrat with what Jaime did not dare to hope might be a kindly smile, "You might be so kind as to tell us why you took the actions you did."
Jaime sighed again, knowing as all small merchant captains did that the Imperial Bureaucracy was obsessed with rules and their enforcement; that the Scouts were opposed to the idea of civilian mail carriers. They'd jump all over a chance to discredit one. And of course the Nobility couldn't care less about anything except their status and their precious Areas of Responsibility. Dumping a harsh penalty on him was in all their interests.
Yeah, he was finished all right. And for doing the right thing, too. He'd be taking a fall for believing that some things were more important than rules. But these highly-paid representatives of soulless Imperial agencies didn't care about that. All that mattered was following the guidelines and covering yourself when it went belly-up.
Jaime Vorstaten tugged the skew-brimmed hat down hard on his head, knowing that it'd annoy them. He was supposed to have removed it upon entry to the hearing-room, but it really didn't matter. In short, he didn't have a chance. But he'd known that when he dumped the safe.
"Okay," Jaime said slowly. "You want to know why... I'll tell you."
And he did.
* * *
"Mail Ship Pandora... you are off your vector. Again. Maintain descent rate and turn five degrees to starboard. That's five degrees to Starboard. You getting that, Pandora?"
Jaime leaned against the back of the Astrogator's empty chair and bared his teeth in a fake snarl at the bridge speaker. He waved a do-what-the-man-says hand at his pilot. "Yeah. We get that. We'll correct. Meantime, can you people ask this hurricane to blow on a constant vector? That'd be a big help, Manei Lu Control."
The speaker chuckled wryly. "That's no hurricane, Pandora. That's normal weather conditions. We're tracking a big blow out to sea, but it's passing northwards. This is just another day at the office."
"Thanks for that, Control. You have a really lousy planet here, you know that?"
"Acknowledged, Pandora. Your vector is good."
It was a truly, impressively, lousy planet, Jaime reflected as his ship lurched and bumped through the gale-force gusts of rainy, lightning-flickering normal atmospheric conditions. The place didn't even have a central starport, just half a dozen small spaceports serving mineral-extraction operations. Not surprising really... Jaime doubted anyone would want to live here if it weren't for mining-corporation hazard pay.
For the Pandora, running an Imperial Mail Contract in the backwaters, it meant that there was no central distribution for physical mail. The ship had to visit each of the spaceports in turn, just for the sake of a couple of packages and the odd envelope. Sure, they were getting paid to do it, but seven landings in truly hideous conditions didn't add up to a whole lot of fun.
"Mail Ship Pandora, you are..." said the audio-only from Manei Lu spaceport control.
"... Off our vector. Again," Jaime snapped. "Kylla... is it me or are you struggling?"
Kylla Margrave, Pandora's Chief Pilot and First Officer, didn't glance up from her console. "The wind's a lot stronger here. Gusts are more erratic. And that's not just rain," she said in a tense monotone. "It's spray picked up from the sea. Portside aft lifter is more wayward than usual, too. And the Captain's fretting."
"He is not," Jaime asserted.
"Fine," Kylla replied. "Now let me be."
Jaime decided to do just that. The little brunette pilot had flown fuel shuttles into gas giants for the Scout Service. This was a picnic compared to that. Though Scout gear was probably less in need of overhaul and wouldn't make so many worrying noises....
"Okay. The Captain is fretting," Jaime said softly to himself. He tripped the intercom. "Engineering. How're we doing, Blaine?"
"Just fabulous, Skipper. I've got Nadia and Alex down here assisting. If you want to call it that..."
Jaime smiled slightly as Nadia's voice protested in the background. The ex-Marine corporal was their security expert, gunner and technician. As handy with test prods as a rifle, she was worth any two of the other crew... and about five of Alex.
"Anything major?" Jaime asked.
"No more so than usual," Blaine said over the intercom. "I'm getting to be pretty unhappy about the lifters, though."
"He's not the only one..." Kylla put in.
"Okay. Keep me posted if anything... whoa!" Jaime felt the deck slam upwards then fall away under him faster than the deck plates could deal with. His inner ear told him what he needed to know before the alarms went off. The ship was falling. Fast.
"Damage report!" Jaime snapped in the general direction of the intercom, eyeing the Master Damage Board. Bits of it were amber, and there was an alarming number of red sections. Most were aft, but as the deck began to push up again and Pandora lurched out of her dive one of the fore sections turned red. The closet that claimed the grand title of avionics room.
"Lightning strike! I've lost a lifter... controls are heavy..." Kylla grunted from the Pilot's chair. "Avionics damage?"
"Power system has overloaded. We have electrical fires...!" Blaine shouted from the intercom, his voice distorted by the emergency air mask he'd have reflexively donned.
"Distribution board should have controlled the overload..." Jaime said as he grabbed for his own mask and lurched across the bridge in the direction of the avionics room.
"The distribution board has blown... that's what's on fire!" Blaine said. "Nadia has it under control but I can't get you the other lifter back...not from here. I'm coming forward."
Jaime grunted something and slammed his hand against the override for the avionics chamber hatch. He recoiled in the face of intense heat, then yanked his cap down hard and lunged into the tiny chamber. In the smoke he could barely make out the emergency-isolation handles.
Jaime extended a hand then withdrew it, driven back by a flurry of sparks and blistering heat. The deck under him lurched, sending him reeling against a flaming panel. He scrambled back out of the avionics chamber, his resilient tunic scorched and melted by the brief contact.
"Captain!" Kylla shouted as the ship lurched again, erratic lifters struggling to keep it aloft as ocean winds threw it about like a toy. "I've got some manual control, but it's intermittent..."
"What can you do?" Jaime demanded.
"I could fly manually without that shorted lifter, but not in this storm. Not without computer assist."
"Avionics are out!"
"Then we're going down," Kylla said flatly.
Jaime yanked his sleeve down over his right hand. "We are not!" he snarled, plunging forward across the bucking deck. Damage control exercises carried out long ago in the Navy now came back, along with the voice of Petty Officer Williams who'd taught and instructed and occasionally become very annoyed with the young officers under his tutelage.
Primary flight controls are out, Petty Officer! And the backups haven't cut in for some reason!
That's right, Ensign, you need Avionics back on line....
Avionics are on fire, Petty Officer! Electrical fire! Suppression has failed!
No such thing as an electrical fire, Ensign. Remove the electricity, the fire goes out....
Jaime plunged back into the flames, face hunched into his collar, teeth gritted against the heat. His sleeve-wrapped hand grabbed for the handles, yanked them down one by one. Then he flung himself backward and fell to the deck as Blaine came pounding onto the tiny bridge, half in and half out of his fire-fighting kit. The engineer ignored his smouldering captain, leaping over Jaime to haul an access panel off. Kylla hadn't even looked around, just kept on fighting the controls to delay the inevitable crash. Slapping at the flames with burned hands, Jaime mentally cursed them for ignoring his pain. Then Petty Officer Williams' voice came into his mind again.
Your first duty, Ensign?
... Save the ship, Petty Officer!
The Engineer's first duty?
... Save the ship, Petty Officer!
The Pilot's?
"I get it!" Jaime snarled, hauling himself upright despite the burns. "Status?"
"We have partial backup avionics...some manual control...." Kylla said. "I'm going to attempt a crash-landing."
Jaime didn't question her decision, but for the record he said, "Do it. Manei Lu Control... you receiving?"
There was no sound from the speaker. Just in case, Jaime said, "This is Mail Ship Pandora... we are in distress and attempting a crash landing. No idea where we are. Wish us luck...."
"Everyone!" Kylla snapped into the intercom. "Grab something NOW!"
There was a strange moment of stillness, as the expected bone-smashing impact didn't come.
Then it did.
* * *
Jaime leaned on his cane and tried to ignore the rain that lashed Manei Lu Spaceport, drenching him, the young Assistant Portmaster and the repair crew who struggled to make the battered ship fly again. He winced at the memory of Pandora bouncing into the port. She'd been towed in like a huge metal balloon by a prospecting crawler, her lifters not quite able to carry her weight.
"Another three, four days and you'll be able to Jump out," the Portmaster said. "I assume you'll head for a dockyard?"
"I think I might," Jaime agreed with a rueful chuckle. They'd got away with relatively minor damage to both ship and crew, for which he should be thankful. And Alex had finally shown his worth. The kid was always getting into trouble or making dumb mistakes, but to be fair he hadn't been recruited for his technical or interpersonal skills. No, Alex was just out of a pre-med degree, saving to put himself through medical school. Ship's medic was a pretty good way to get the cash together, plus some experience that might get him into a prestigious institution. He'd make a good surgeon some day, Jaime decided.
Probably not anytime soon though, not on what Jaime could afford to pay him.
"Why Pandora?" the Portmaster asked conversationally, apparently indifferent to the howling wind and icy rain.
"Old Earth legend."
"Pandora's Box?" the Portmaster said.
"Yeah. Pandora opened her box and all manner of bad things got out. Afterward it was empty except for one thing."
"Hope," the Portmaster said solemnly.
"Hope. And that, my friend, is all we have in our box. Hence the name," Jaime said.
The Portmaster smiled slightly but made no reply.
* * *
The armoured shutters over the bridge windows boomed and rattled as objects slammed against them. Jaime winced as something particularly large crashed against the side of the ship. "Does this constitute bad weather round here?" he asked in an almost conversational tone.
"This is bad even by our standards, Pandora," said the bridge speaker. "We're expecting a lull in a few minutes. Afterwards it'll be even worse."
"It's not worth asking if that's actually possible, Control," Jaime said. Out of new habit he picked up the stick he'd been using since the crash and levered himself out of the command chair.
"It's possible all right, Pandora. You'll get a few minutes' lull then all hell will break loose again. Advise you go straight up at maximum acceleration as soon as I give you the word...."
"Acknowledged, Control. Been a pleasant stay, more or less..."
Jaime was interrupted. "Pandora! Go!"
"Do it!" he snapped, noting the wall of rain and wind coming in from the east on the 3D radar display. There wasn't much time, but the computer thought they could make it. Kylla opened the throttles all the way, the deck plates not quite compensating for the violent acceleration as she stood the little merchant on her tail and reached for the stars.
Suddenly, alert klaxons blared. Jaime started, thinking the lifters had failed again. But no. It was the Distress Channel Alert. His heart cold in his chest, Jaime listened to the message.
"Mayday... Mayday. This is prospecting station Upsilon... Linda Purviss' crew. We have severe storm damage, power is out. Computer predicts the storm surge will flatten us. Winds are at Hurricane Plus... Our grav vehicles can't fly in this. Request instructions.... Mayday... Mayday, this is...."
Jaime glanced at the holomap displayed in front of him. The prospectors were operating on a small island out to sea, to the west. The weather map showed even worse conditions out there than over the spaceport.
"Captain," Kylla said from the pilot's station. "We can make orbit in this window. We can't help them. The ship is damaged. We can't fly into that."
Jaime hit a couple of studs, asked the computer for a projection. He watched the mining station swamped by the storm surge, the wall of seawater driven ahead of the hurricane winds. "How many personnel?" he demanded.
"Sixty," Kylla responded. Both of them knew nobody would survive the storm surge.
Jaime didn't hesitate, "Station Upsilon. This is Imperial Mail Ship Pandora. Just hang on... we're responding."
"Captain, we can't..." Kylla began.
"We're responding!" Jaime snarled.
"The lifters are still weak. We can't fly with sixty people aboard. We can get them in, just about. But we can't...."
"We are responding!" Jaime said again.
"Yes, Captain!" Kylla responded, bringing the merchant about. She knew better than to argue with Jaime when he had his stubborn-idiot hat on.
"All hands!" Jaime said into the intercom. "Jettison everything that isn't essential to flight operations. That's an order!"
They responded like they'd been trained for it. Nadine directed their Cargobots to dump the sole cargo container, then to run out the aft cargo doors after it. Blaine vented their Jump fuel. Alex heaved loose items to the ventral hatch and shoved them out despite the risk of a long, long fall.
It wasn't enough.
They were over the ocean, racing the storm surge, when Jaime finally admitted they couldn't lighten the ship enough to climb out of the storm. Not with sixty people jammed into the cargo hold and the aft lifters malfunctioning.
"We can't do it..." Kylla said, forgetting the open channel to the prospectors and the spaceport. "We couldn't lift even if we got there in time...."
"Pandora.... I've got people here volunteering to stay behind if you'll try to reach the rest... maybe you can save some of my crew... I'm begging you to try...!" said a woman's tense voice over the radio.
"Could we get there?" Jaime said, secretly hoping that the answer was no.
"Yes, just," Kylla answered.
Jaime swore, then reached for the command console. "Gods in Space, bless me now, for I know exactly what it is that I do..." he muttered, tapping in his personal code.
The ship lurched and bounced as the mailsafe, several tons of armour and hullplate, blasted free of its secure mounts and dropped into the dark ocean far below. With it went Jaime's career and any hope of meeting their next maintenance bill.
"Just hang on...." Jaime said to the bridge pickups. "Just hang on. We're coming."
* * *
"That's it. Sir," Jaime said in a flat monotone. "I jettisoned the mailsafe so that I could pack the prospectors in. We took them all despite weight concerns. Several had volunteered to remain behind... I believe their names have been put forward already but I can supply them if needed... but in the end we took them all. We couldn't lift properly so we ran ahead of the storm surge until we hit the mainland. Literally."
"Your ship was somewhat damaged in the rescue, I am told," Sir Mary said.
"Yes, Sir. We were able to carry out makeshift repairs at the spaceport, then we came here for refit. Not that we can afford it."
"Hmm. Do you have a final statement for this hearing?"
"Yes, Sir. I do," Jaime said. "I wilfully jettisoned the mailsafe, knowing the penalties that would be incurred. I did so in order to save lives. If the Imperium places its laws and customs above the lives of its citizens, then it's hollow... corrupt... worthless. I know the penalty for what I did, Sir Mary. I'm prepared to pay it. I can only ask that you accept that the responsibility is mine alone. My crew were merely following my orders."
"Following orders has never been an acceptable defence and you know it, Captain. All the same, let me be absolutely clear... you are saying that you broke Imperial High Law in order to save lives, knowing the penalty that would befall you?"
"That's about it," Jaime said defiantly.
Sir Mary glanced to her left, at the bureaucrat. He nodded, ever so slightly. On her other side the Scout raised his water glass in what looked suspiciously like a salute. Sir Mary paused for a second, then said, "By your own admission, you are guilty of breaking Imperial High Law, Captain. The only defence you make is that you acted from the highest motives. You imply that an Imperium that places law above life is morally bankrupt and perhaps unfit to judge you, yes?"
"Yes," Jaime said.
"You offer no legal defence?"
"There's none and you know it."
"You are correct, Captain. There is no legal defence," Sir Mary said. "But the Imperium is not a thing of law. It has laws, but our laws exist to protect and to serve our citizens. If they do not do that, they must be challenged. A mail contract serves the citizens of the Imperium... a mail ship serves the citizens. And you did that, Captain, despite your fear that you would be punished for your actions. Few people have that kind of moral courage."
Jaime gaped, but Sir Mary went on, "It is the finding of this hearing that while laws were broken, the actions and intentions of the crew of the mailship Pandora and her crew were beyond reproach. No action will be taken over the destruction of the mail in your charge."
Jaime glanced at the Scout. He winked. The bureaucrat sat, stony faced, but there was just a hint of grudging approval about his features. "Sometimes the laws of our society are inappropriate and must be ignored in the interest of what is right," Sir Mary said. "But at most times they must be carefully followed. It is the duty of each citizen and noble to make that choice in good conscience. You did that, Captain, and you saved many lives by your actions. In recompense, your dockyard bill is waived and your mail contract will be renewed.
“You did not blindly follow the system but instead made your own choices as a free citizen. And you chose to do right, despite danger and the letter of the law. For that you have my thanks and those of the Emperor. For while our citizens have the moral courage to do as you did, the Imperium will endure."
Jaime made to say something, but Sir Mary said, "This hearing is closed," and walked smartly out.
* * *
"Ready to lift, Captain," Alex said with a vague gesture in the direction of the new mailsafe. "Everything is stowed. Except this...." he handed Jaime a small, lacquered wooden box.
Jaime turned the box over in his hands. It was very light. He raised an eyebrow.
"It came by special courier. Some noble wants it deposited in our safe... for safekeeping until she requests its return. She's offering the standard secure space rental rate. Seemed a bit odd, so I thought I'd check with you."
Jaime smiled slightly as he discovered the box wasn't fastened shut in any way. It came open in his hands. For a long moment he stared inside. Then he chuckled.
"She wants an empty box looking after?" Alex said, dumbfounded.
"No, it's not empty," Jaime said.
"Then what's..." Alex said, as Jaime smiled and held it out for him to see..
"It's full of hope."
Jaime Vorstaten sighed. With one stubby finger he pushed the brim of his Navy-issue Commander's hat upwards a little. The brim was, he had to admit, somewhat askew these days. He decided it lent him a rakish air, like the devil-may-care free trader captains that graced Sixday-Morning vid shows. The battered cap matched the leather duster coat and three days' stubble, creating a look that Jaime would reluctantly admit he rather liked.
His appearance was probably not the most appropriate for a formal hearing, especially a hearing in which he was going to have to explain how he'd managed to lose an entire armoured safe full of mail. Not that it was likely to matter all that much.
Sir Mary Ultiski, heading the three-person hearing in the Emperor's name, glanced to her left. Minister Varn, the black-suited Bureaucracy representative seated there, tapped his long fingers impatiently. Jaime could just about hear the mental knife-sharpening going on in Varn's mind.
"I jettisoned it, Sir," Jaime said flatly, deciding that nothing was going to save him now.
Sir Mary flicked her gaze to the Scout Service representative on the other side. Field Scout Surnine looked like he'd come straight from Xboat duty – he might well have – and had been struggling to maintain his interest through the opening remarks. Now he shot upright, choking on his glass of water.
"Would you care to amplify that statement?" Sir Mary asked mildly.
Jaime shrugged. "I used the captain's override. Triggered the explosive bolts and dumped the safe out the bottom of the ship. It went into the sea over the Kligan Offshore Trench. Sank in about five kilometres of water. Sir. The safe could conceivably have survived the drop and the ocean-bottom conditions. With the right equipment, it may even be retrievable."
"What are the chances of THAT?" demanded the bureaucrat.
"Slim. At best. Assuming a silt or mud trench bottom and no serious collisions on the way down," the Scout responded, poking his water glass away from him. "Which is to say that the thing's probably been crushed flat and eaten by a hitherto-undiscovered sea monster by now. Best assume a total loss."
"Gentles. It is my decision as to whether the Emperor's mail is to be written off or not," Sir Mary admonished. "Now, Captain. You are aware of the significance of a mail contract?"
Jaime nodded. "Yes, of course I am. I had to jump through all sorts of hoops to get an Auxiliary Mail Carrier license. Armed ship, trained security personnel... my own experience in the Naval Reserve...."
"And you are aware that interstellar mail is guaranteed by Imperial Edict?"
"Yes." Jaime quietly ground his teeth, trying not to lose his temper.
"And that Imperial High Law has very specific penalties for interference with the mail?"
"Yes!" Jaime snapped. "Yes, I am fully aware of every single minute clause in all seven of the Mail Ordinance documents. I know that I was responsible for carrying and protecting the mail... responsible to the Scout Service Communications Branch... to the Bureaucracy and to the Emperor himself! I know this, you know this, these gentles know this... my ship's cat has a pretty good idea too! So let's just get on with it!"
"You do not dispute that you wilfully destroyed Imperial Property; specifically a safe full of mail?" the bureaucrat asked.
"Oh yeah, I dispute that! I dumped the safe, yes. And I knew it'd probably be trashed as a result. But no way did I... would I... deliberately destroy the mail. Without the mail contract my ship can't even cover the maintenance bill... besides, I know the penalties for an Imperial Felony like trashing a mailsafe. So yeah, I'm disputing that!"
"Captain," Sir Mary put in smoothly. "The hearing accepts that you did not personally destroy the cargo in your trust. However, can you deny that you deliberately undertook a course of action, knowing that it would cause the mail safe to be lost?"
"No. I can't deny that."
"You do not seem to be a madman, Captain," Sir Mary said. "Your record since your ship – the Pandora – was awarded a mail contract has been quite satisfactory. I am also aware that you have in the past served acceptably in the Naval Reserve, rising to the rank of Lieutenant Commander. My impression of you is of a competent and steady officer of no great distinction. Does that sound like a reasonable assessment?"
Jaime grunted, refusing to grace this uncharitable description of his career with an answer.
"Further," Sir Mary went on, "Fulfilment of this contract was vital to continued operation of your vessel. Yet you jettisoned the safe and allowed its contents to be lost, in the full knowledge of the consequences. Do you agree with this statement?"
"Yes," Jaime replied.
"The letter of the law is very clear on this matter," Sir Mary said. "If you choose to say nothing further, the hearing will be closed and the usual penalties will be applied to yourself and your crew. You may face prison, and will at least lose your Master's license."
"Or," said the bureaucrat with what Jaime did not dare to hope might be a kindly smile, "You might be so kind as to tell us why you took the actions you did."
Jaime sighed again, knowing as all small merchant captains did that the Imperial Bureaucracy was obsessed with rules and their enforcement; that the Scouts were opposed to the idea of civilian mail carriers. They'd jump all over a chance to discredit one. And of course the Nobility couldn't care less about anything except their status and their precious Areas of Responsibility. Dumping a harsh penalty on him was in all their interests.
Yeah, he was finished all right. And for doing the right thing, too. He'd be taking a fall for believing that some things were more important than rules. But these highly-paid representatives of soulless Imperial agencies didn't care about that. All that mattered was following the guidelines and covering yourself when it went belly-up.
Jaime Vorstaten tugged the skew-brimmed hat down hard on his head, knowing that it'd annoy them. He was supposed to have removed it upon entry to the hearing-room, but it really didn't matter. In short, he didn't have a chance. But he'd known that when he dumped the safe.
"Okay," Jaime said slowly. "You want to know why... I'll tell you."
And he did.
* * *
"Mail Ship Pandora... you are off your vector. Again. Maintain descent rate and turn five degrees to starboard. That's five degrees to Starboard. You getting that, Pandora?"
Jaime leaned against the back of the Astrogator's empty chair and bared his teeth in a fake snarl at the bridge speaker. He waved a do-what-the-man-says hand at his pilot. "Yeah. We get that. We'll correct. Meantime, can you people ask this hurricane to blow on a constant vector? That'd be a big help, Manei Lu Control."
The speaker chuckled wryly. "That's no hurricane, Pandora. That's normal weather conditions. We're tracking a big blow out to sea, but it's passing northwards. This is just another day at the office."
"Thanks for that, Control. You have a really lousy planet here, you know that?"
"Acknowledged, Pandora. Your vector is good."
It was a truly, impressively, lousy planet, Jaime reflected as his ship lurched and bumped through the gale-force gusts of rainy, lightning-flickering normal atmospheric conditions. The place didn't even have a central starport, just half a dozen small spaceports serving mineral-extraction operations. Not surprising really... Jaime doubted anyone would want to live here if it weren't for mining-corporation hazard pay.
For the Pandora, running an Imperial Mail Contract in the backwaters, it meant that there was no central distribution for physical mail. The ship had to visit each of the spaceports in turn, just for the sake of a couple of packages and the odd envelope. Sure, they were getting paid to do it, but seven landings in truly hideous conditions didn't add up to a whole lot of fun.
"Mail Ship Pandora, you are..." said the audio-only from Manei Lu spaceport control.
"... Off our vector. Again," Jaime snapped. "Kylla... is it me or are you struggling?"
Kylla Margrave, Pandora's Chief Pilot and First Officer, didn't glance up from her console. "The wind's a lot stronger here. Gusts are more erratic. And that's not just rain," she said in a tense monotone. "It's spray picked up from the sea. Portside aft lifter is more wayward than usual, too. And the Captain's fretting."
"He is not," Jaime asserted.
"Fine," Kylla replied. "Now let me be."
Jaime decided to do just that. The little brunette pilot had flown fuel shuttles into gas giants for the Scout Service. This was a picnic compared to that. Though Scout gear was probably less in need of overhaul and wouldn't make so many worrying noises....
"Okay. The Captain is fretting," Jaime said softly to himself. He tripped the intercom. "Engineering. How're we doing, Blaine?"
"Just fabulous, Skipper. I've got Nadia and Alex down here assisting. If you want to call it that..."
Jaime smiled slightly as Nadia's voice protested in the background. The ex-Marine corporal was their security expert, gunner and technician. As handy with test prods as a rifle, she was worth any two of the other crew... and about five of Alex.
"Anything major?" Jaime asked.
"No more so than usual," Blaine said over the intercom. "I'm getting to be pretty unhappy about the lifters, though."
"He's not the only one..." Kylla put in.
"Okay. Keep me posted if anything... whoa!" Jaime felt the deck slam upwards then fall away under him faster than the deck plates could deal with. His inner ear told him what he needed to know before the alarms went off. The ship was falling. Fast.
"Damage report!" Jaime snapped in the general direction of the intercom, eyeing the Master Damage Board. Bits of it were amber, and there was an alarming number of red sections. Most were aft, but as the deck began to push up again and Pandora lurched out of her dive one of the fore sections turned red. The closet that claimed the grand title of avionics room.
"Lightning strike! I've lost a lifter... controls are heavy..." Kylla grunted from the Pilot's chair. "Avionics damage?"
"Power system has overloaded. We have electrical fires...!" Blaine shouted from the intercom, his voice distorted by the emergency air mask he'd have reflexively donned.
"Distribution board should have controlled the overload..." Jaime said as he grabbed for his own mask and lurched across the bridge in the direction of the avionics room.
"The distribution board has blown... that's what's on fire!" Blaine said. "Nadia has it under control but I can't get you the other lifter back...not from here. I'm coming forward."
Jaime grunted something and slammed his hand against the override for the avionics chamber hatch. He recoiled in the face of intense heat, then yanked his cap down hard and lunged into the tiny chamber. In the smoke he could barely make out the emergency-isolation handles.
Jaime extended a hand then withdrew it, driven back by a flurry of sparks and blistering heat. The deck under him lurched, sending him reeling against a flaming panel. He scrambled back out of the avionics chamber, his resilient tunic scorched and melted by the brief contact.
"Captain!" Kylla shouted as the ship lurched again, erratic lifters struggling to keep it aloft as ocean winds threw it about like a toy. "I've got some manual control, but it's intermittent..."
"What can you do?" Jaime demanded.
"I could fly manually without that shorted lifter, but not in this storm. Not without computer assist."
"Avionics are out!"
"Then we're going down," Kylla said flatly.
Jaime yanked his sleeve down over his right hand. "We are not!" he snarled, plunging forward across the bucking deck. Damage control exercises carried out long ago in the Navy now came back, along with the voice of Petty Officer Williams who'd taught and instructed and occasionally become very annoyed with the young officers under his tutelage.
Primary flight controls are out, Petty Officer! And the backups haven't cut in for some reason!
That's right, Ensign, you need Avionics back on line....
Avionics are on fire, Petty Officer! Electrical fire! Suppression has failed!
No such thing as an electrical fire, Ensign. Remove the electricity, the fire goes out....
Jaime plunged back into the flames, face hunched into his collar, teeth gritted against the heat. His sleeve-wrapped hand grabbed for the handles, yanked them down one by one. Then he flung himself backward and fell to the deck as Blaine came pounding onto the tiny bridge, half in and half out of his fire-fighting kit. The engineer ignored his smouldering captain, leaping over Jaime to haul an access panel off. Kylla hadn't even looked around, just kept on fighting the controls to delay the inevitable crash. Slapping at the flames with burned hands, Jaime mentally cursed them for ignoring his pain. Then Petty Officer Williams' voice came into his mind again.
Your first duty, Ensign?
... Save the ship, Petty Officer!
The Engineer's first duty?
... Save the ship, Petty Officer!
The Pilot's?
"I get it!" Jaime snarled, hauling himself upright despite the burns. "Status?"
"We have partial backup avionics...some manual control...." Kylla said. "I'm going to attempt a crash-landing."
Jaime didn't question her decision, but for the record he said, "Do it. Manei Lu Control... you receiving?"
There was no sound from the speaker. Just in case, Jaime said, "This is Mail Ship Pandora... we are in distress and attempting a crash landing. No idea where we are. Wish us luck...."
"Everyone!" Kylla snapped into the intercom. "Grab something NOW!"
There was a strange moment of stillness, as the expected bone-smashing impact didn't come.
Then it did.
* * *
Jaime leaned on his cane and tried to ignore the rain that lashed Manei Lu Spaceport, drenching him, the young Assistant Portmaster and the repair crew who struggled to make the battered ship fly again. He winced at the memory of Pandora bouncing into the port. She'd been towed in like a huge metal balloon by a prospecting crawler, her lifters not quite able to carry her weight.
"Another three, four days and you'll be able to Jump out," the Portmaster said. "I assume you'll head for a dockyard?"
"I think I might," Jaime agreed with a rueful chuckle. They'd got away with relatively minor damage to both ship and crew, for which he should be thankful. And Alex had finally shown his worth. The kid was always getting into trouble or making dumb mistakes, but to be fair he hadn't been recruited for his technical or interpersonal skills. No, Alex was just out of a pre-med degree, saving to put himself through medical school. Ship's medic was a pretty good way to get the cash together, plus some experience that might get him into a prestigious institution. He'd make a good surgeon some day, Jaime decided.
Probably not anytime soon though, not on what Jaime could afford to pay him.
"Why Pandora?" the Portmaster asked conversationally, apparently indifferent to the howling wind and icy rain.
"Old Earth legend."
"Pandora's Box?" the Portmaster said.
"Yeah. Pandora opened her box and all manner of bad things got out. Afterward it was empty except for one thing."
"Hope," the Portmaster said solemnly.
"Hope. And that, my friend, is all we have in our box. Hence the name," Jaime said.
The Portmaster smiled slightly but made no reply.
* * *
The armoured shutters over the bridge windows boomed and rattled as objects slammed against them. Jaime winced as something particularly large crashed against the side of the ship. "Does this constitute bad weather round here?" he asked in an almost conversational tone.
"This is bad even by our standards, Pandora," said the bridge speaker. "We're expecting a lull in a few minutes. Afterwards it'll be even worse."
"It's not worth asking if that's actually possible, Control," Jaime said. Out of new habit he picked up the stick he'd been using since the crash and levered himself out of the command chair.
"It's possible all right, Pandora. You'll get a few minutes' lull then all hell will break loose again. Advise you go straight up at maximum acceleration as soon as I give you the word...."
"Acknowledged, Control. Been a pleasant stay, more or less..."
Jaime was interrupted. "Pandora! Go!"
"Do it!" he snapped, noting the wall of rain and wind coming in from the east on the 3D radar display. There wasn't much time, but the computer thought they could make it. Kylla opened the throttles all the way, the deck plates not quite compensating for the violent acceleration as she stood the little merchant on her tail and reached for the stars.
Suddenly, alert klaxons blared. Jaime started, thinking the lifters had failed again. But no. It was the Distress Channel Alert. His heart cold in his chest, Jaime listened to the message.
"Mayday... Mayday. This is prospecting station Upsilon... Linda Purviss' crew. We have severe storm damage, power is out. Computer predicts the storm surge will flatten us. Winds are at Hurricane Plus... Our grav vehicles can't fly in this. Request instructions.... Mayday... Mayday, this is...."
Jaime glanced at the holomap displayed in front of him. The prospectors were operating on a small island out to sea, to the west. The weather map showed even worse conditions out there than over the spaceport.
"Captain," Kylla said from the pilot's station. "We can make orbit in this window. We can't help them. The ship is damaged. We can't fly into that."
Jaime hit a couple of studs, asked the computer for a projection. He watched the mining station swamped by the storm surge, the wall of seawater driven ahead of the hurricane winds. "How many personnel?" he demanded.
"Sixty," Kylla responded. Both of them knew nobody would survive the storm surge.
Jaime didn't hesitate, "Station Upsilon. This is Imperial Mail Ship Pandora. Just hang on... we're responding."
"Captain, we can't..." Kylla began.
"We're responding!" Jaime snarled.
"The lifters are still weak. We can't fly with sixty people aboard. We can get them in, just about. But we can't...."
"We are responding!" Jaime said again.
"Yes, Captain!" Kylla responded, bringing the merchant about. She knew better than to argue with Jaime when he had his stubborn-idiot hat on.
"All hands!" Jaime said into the intercom. "Jettison everything that isn't essential to flight operations. That's an order!"
They responded like they'd been trained for it. Nadine directed their Cargobots to dump the sole cargo container, then to run out the aft cargo doors after it. Blaine vented their Jump fuel. Alex heaved loose items to the ventral hatch and shoved them out despite the risk of a long, long fall.
It wasn't enough.
They were over the ocean, racing the storm surge, when Jaime finally admitted they couldn't lighten the ship enough to climb out of the storm. Not with sixty people jammed into the cargo hold and the aft lifters malfunctioning.
"We can't do it..." Kylla said, forgetting the open channel to the prospectors and the spaceport. "We couldn't lift even if we got there in time...."
"Pandora.... I've got people here volunteering to stay behind if you'll try to reach the rest... maybe you can save some of my crew... I'm begging you to try...!" said a woman's tense voice over the radio.
"Could we get there?" Jaime said, secretly hoping that the answer was no.
"Yes, just," Kylla answered.
Jaime swore, then reached for the command console. "Gods in Space, bless me now, for I know exactly what it is that I do..." he muttered, tapping in his personal code.
The ship lurched and bounced as the mailsafe, several tons of armour and hullplate, blasted free of its secure mounts and dropped into the dark ocean far below. With it went Jaime's career and any hope of meeting their next maintenance bill.
"Just hang on...." Jaime said to the bridge pickups. "Just hang on. We're coming."
* * *
"That's it. Sir," Jaime said in a flat monotone. "I jettisoned the mailsafe so that I could pack the prospectors in. We took them all despite weight concerns. Several had volunteered to remain behind... I believe their names have been put forward already but I can supply them if needed... but in the end we took them all. We couldn't lift properly so we ran ahead of the storm surge until we hit the mainland. Literally."
"Your ship was somewhat damaged in the rescue, I am told," Sir Mary said.
"Yes, Sir. We were able to carry out makeshift repairs at the spaceport, then we came here for refit. Not that we can afford it."
"Hmm. Do you have a final statement for this hearing?"
"Yes, Sir. I do," Jaime said. "I wilfully jettisoned the mailsafe, knowing the penalties that would be incurred. I did so in order to save lives. If the Imperium places its laws and customs above the lives of its citizens, then it's hollow... corrupt... worthless. I know the penalty for what I did, Sir Mary. I'm prepared to pay it. I can only ask that you accept that the responsibility is mine alone. My crew were merely following my orders."
"Following orders has never been an acceptable defence and you know it, Captain. All the same, let me be absolutely clear... you are saying that you broke Imperial High Law in order to save lives, knowing the penalty that would befall you?"
"That's about it," Jaime said defiantly.
Sir Mary glanced to her left, at the bureaucrat. He nodded, ever so slightly. On her other side the Scout raised his water glass in what looked suspiciously like a salute. Sir Mary paused for a second, then said, "By your own admission, you are guilty of breaking Imperial High Law, Captain. The only defence you make is that you acted from the highest motives. You imply that an Imperium that places law above life is morally bankrupt and perhaps unfit to judge you, yes?"
"Yes," Jaime said.
"You offer no legal defence?"
"There's none and you know it."
"You are correct, Captain. There is no legal defence," Sir Mary said. "But the Imperium is not a thing of law. It has laws, but our laws exist to protect and to serve our citizens. If they do not do that, they must be challenged. A mail contract serves the citizens of the Imperium... a mail ship serves the citizens. And you did that, Captain, despite your fear that you would be punished for your actions. Few people have that kind of moral courage."
Jaime gaped, but Sir Mary went on, "It is the finding of this hearing that while laws were broken, the actions and intentions of the crew of the mailship Pandora and her crew were beyond reproach. No action will be taken over the destruction of the mail in your charge."
Jaime glanced at the Scout. He winked. The bureaucrat sat, stony faced, but there was just a hint of grudging approval about his features. "Sometimes the laws of our society are inappropriate and must be ignored in the interest of what is right," Sir Mary said. "But at most times they must be carefully followed. It is the duty of each citizen and noble to make that choice in good conscience. You did that, Captain, and you saved many lives by your actions. In recompense, your dockyard bill is waived and your mail contract will be renewed.
“You did not blindly follow the system but instead made your own choices as a free citizen. And you chose to do right, despite danger and the letter of the law. For that you have my thanks and those of the Emperor. For while our citizens have the moral courage to do as you did, the Imperium will endure."
Jaime made to say something, but Sir Mary said, "This hearing is closed," and walked smartly out.
* * *
"Ready to lift, Captain," Alex said with a vague gesture in the direction of the new mailsafe. "Everything is stowed. Except this...." he handed Jaime a small, lacquered wooden box.
Jaime turned the box over in his hands. It was very light. He raised an eyebrow.
"It came by special courier. Some noble wants it deposited in our safe... for safekeeping until she requests its return. She's offering the standard secure space rental rate. Seemed a bit odd, so I thought I'd check with you."
Jaime smiled slightly as he discovered the box wasn't fastened shut in any way. It came open in his hands. For a long moment he stared inside. Then he chuckled.
"She wants an empty box looking after?" Alex said, dumbfounded.
"No, it's not empty," Jaime said.
"Then what's..." Alex said, as Jaime smiled and held it out for him to see..
"It's full of hope."
