The fate of the smuggler

Nikita T

The fate of the smuggler

Prologue

En Cloud sat on the beach, gazing at the water. Not far from him, perched on the trunk of a fallen tree, Feta sat with her eyes narrowed, watching tiny crabs scuttle across the sand. The girl was trying to capture a fleeting moment gifted to her by nature.

She wanted to finish her drawing before these clumsy red and brown creatures, hurrying toward the sea, vanished beneath the salty, lightly frothing waves.

The waves seemed light and airy. Warm rays played with the glints on the water, magnifying the colorful fish and the red and brown crabs that sought refuge from the sudden danger posed by the girl and her companion.

They reminded her of a childhood spent somewhere far away in space, at the other end of the galaxy, when she was but an innocent child.

Vague memories came to her of parents who took her to the seashore, where she played with similar translucent, foaming waves washing over sandy shoals, observing the myriad inhabitants of the deep.

Feta took out her sketchbook and tried to apply vibrant colors to her drawing, hoping to breathe life into the blue-green sea that remained black and white on the page—a sea into which, for some inexplicable reason, she had not yet infused vitality.

The pencil glided over the thick sheet of papyrus, tracing the image before her eyes. The sea changed. Now it seemed alive and moving. The sky and waves merged with the landscape her companion was watching as he sat a short distance away.

En Cloud had done his best to provide her with everything she needed, bartering papyrus and pencils for the water he now possessed. He had seen such drawings before. The Commander knew that Feta possessed a divine talent bestowed by the Creator, and the drawing would turn out remarkably truthful and realistic.

To him, this act was incomprehensible. No one had taught the girl this craft; she acquired her skills through intuition. It was a true miracle. Long ago, in another life, he too had tried to learn to draw, but nothing had come of it. Apparently, he lacked the natural aptitude. But for Feta, everything came easily and simply. It seemed that everything she looked at or touched flowed seamlessly onto her drawing.

It was chilly, and he wrapped himself in the waterproof sea suit he had brought along. A cold sea breeze blew from the north, making the suit quite appropriate.

His gaze was fixed beyond the horizon, where the salty seawater splashed. The ebb tide was due to begin soon. The sea pulled and called to him. But swimming in such weather was unwise; one could easily catch a cold.

The water would rush onto the sand, hiding the crabs and fish from the curious girl's sight, then recede. The scene was mesmerizing and sat in stark contrast to the recent events unfolding across the reaches of the neighboring galaxy.

It was these events that occupied all his thoughts...

En Cloud was not so much a soldier as he was a poet and philosopher, and thus he loved to reflect on the past and future of this world, which was full of contradictions and irreconcilable conflicts.

Gradually, his thoughts returned to reality...

The Empire was constantly expanding, and such lost worlds, where one could hide from the war and ponder the state of the universe, grew fewer and fewer each year. Naturally, there were very few uninhabited planets left where one could bask on warm sand right now, watching a translucent sea wave.

On most planets, open bodies of water were non-existent. There, water was either locked within minerals or held in a gaseous state, making the spontaneous emergence of not only intelligent life but even simple bacteria impossible. Yet even in such remote and inhospitable worlds, settlers managed to survive, seeking to escape the massive hive-cities where living conditions were even more grueling.

In the large, urbanized cities, the poor were not considered human; they had to survive in harsh conditions, struggling to feed their families. Meanwhile, officials constantly increased taxes and the cost of the meager resources they were forced to use.

Leaving the civilized worlds, these same poor souls became colonists, attempting to terraform the climates of these hostile planets. They sought to extract water and other resources necessary for survival by every known means.

The settlers built underground bunkers or installed impact-resistant glass domes over their primitive dwellings, where they tried to grow various crops and raise livestock.

Some succeeded and grew wealthy. Others were less fortunate and perished before reaching their goals. Their places were immediately taken by other settlers, and the cycle repeated. Everyone had their own destiny, and everything depended on their knowledge, the natural characteristics of a given planet, and the settlers' diligence.

However, even where there was water, fierce conflicts erupted over it.

And more often than not, the victors in these skirmishes were not the colonists or temporary settlers, but common Imperial mercenaries. They were better organized and possessed more powerful weaponry. They had excellent leaders who knew their trade, hardened in battles against humanoids on the Empire's frontier.

Only this confederation could produce weapons on an industrial scale, and only it dictated its will to the colonists who migrated to new worlds from distant hive-like settlement cities.

The Empire's generals brought death and destruction, but his mission was to deliver clean, fresh water to the settlers—the primary wealth of this world, and the one thing they lacked most.

Once, long ago in another life, he had been such a colonist-farmer himself. En Cloud remembered how he had struggled to obtain water and provisions, how he had hungered and tried to save meager resources for his family. He knew this world well and had experienced firsthand all the difficult problems that hindered growth, wealth, and development.

En Cloud understood perfectly the pressing issues that troubled the poor who arrived in remote worlds in search of a better life. All of them exploited natural resources. Some, besides water and food, sought solitude. But the Empire came here too, imposing a New World Order, levying taxes, and conscripting some into the mercenary army, where most colonists-turned-soldiers eventually perished.

The Empire shattered the peaceful lives of the colonists, but few dared to oppose the cold-hearted mercenaries: only pirates and smugglers, who had little left to lose.

While food was still sufficient—it could always be bought with money—water was always in short supply, and purchasing it was problematic.

Since the time of Enlil, the illegal trade of water had been prohibited. Only those merchants who held a special permit from the Imperial High Council, the Senate, or Enlil himself had the opportunity to legally trade water across the universe.

One had to improvise, setting traps to extract water directly from a planet's atmosphere or digging deep wells into rock to reach minerals or underground springs.

But still, there was never enough for everyone. Sometimes smugglers, like himself, would bring water to the settlers, and then they would have a true celebration. The colonists bartered for it with the fruits of their hard labor or with electronic credits. Even so, they were grateful for the smallest amount...

The colonists drank wine and danced. It was customary to set out wide benches and pile them with leftover wine and food. Children and adults ate and drank their fill, knowing that such feasts would not happen again soon.

For a brief time, water became so plentiful that one could even wash in it. Dirty water was also put to use, given to animals or used to water plants. Some portion of the water was always reserved for a 'rainy day'.

These events were memorable. They were the only bright spots in the lives of the settlers, but later, during periods of drought, they tried to forget them.

Chapter I

Taking advantage of their monopoly, water merchants grew wealthy at a rapid pace. But the richest beings in the universe were not them, but the ordinary Imperial officials who received kickbacks for selling water trade permits and for delivering it to remote colony-settlements far from established trade routes.

En Cloud had never been to the Imperial capital, Hamra, where the Senate was located, but like all its citizens, he had heard tales of the massive city where they resided. It was said that some officials owned golden buildings where even the toilets were adorned with precious stones. And, of course, he would not have been surprised if this story turned out to be true rather than a flight of fancy by the short-sighted poor inhabiting the rim worlds.

All other transactions involving water resources were considered illegal. However, there existed small teams of daring smugglers who ignored these legal norms, contrary to common sense and current legislation, and En Cloud's crew was one of them...

If he were caught, the consequences would be grim. Usually, smugglers were publicly executed. Therefore, he savored every minute and every moment of his difficult and dangerous life, full of worries and unforgettable adventures.

Danger made his life more vivid and filled with meaning. It seemed that without this risk, life would be bland and tasteless. And now, he could never go back to being an ordinary farmer or colonist, those who loathed risk and adventure.

Public killings of the undesirable had become the norm, sometimes taking intricate forms reminiscent of the bloody gladiatorial battles of the past. For this purpose, massive open-air Amphitheaters with vast seating capacities were built. Some officials were so greedy and bloodthirsty that they even profited from such spectacles.

He heard stories of the brutal executions of smugglers not only from settlers but also from defectors and deserters who had once been ordinary Imperial soldiers. It was from them that he eventually formed his crew. He was as confident in them as he was in himself.

Each of his fighters had their own reasons for leaving the hated army. Some blamed their commanders for one failure or another on the battlefield, while others were angry because their own settlements had been razed to the ground.

No one liked deserters, and they could rely only on themselves. The Emperor's mercenaries were capable of much, but within his group, they had changed significantly for the better, becoming more educated and disciplined.

But that changed nothing. If they were captured, they were killed in one way or another, and so far, no one had managed to escape from captivity.

Despite this, En Cloud continued his dangerous activities in searching for and extracting minerals. Above all, he sought the water that the colonists so desperately lacked. He believed in fate, and this faith brought him luck.

Chapter II

En Cloud looked at the young girl once more. He tossed a small shell at her, which his hand had found while warming on the sand.