Arnold the Conqueror
by Steve Hockensmith
Trying to govern an interstellar empire is a bit like governing a transoceanic empire in the days of sail—with at least one important difference!
Arnold Amlingmeyer wanted a bridge to stride across, a control room to dominate with his sinister presence. But he didn’t have one. The Rectifier was far too cramped a ship for such a luxury, and everything was automated anyway. So he had to content himself with striding down the narrow hallways and dominating the sleepchambers. It worked well enough. He just needed the practice.
Eventually, after almost an hour of striding and dominating, he felt powerful enough to begin waking up his men. Sgt. Winslow “Bull” Schott came first. Schott was the professional, the one who would handle the military side of the operation. But he would be taking his orders from Arnold.
Arnold and Schott hadn’t met yet—the Marines had boarded and gone into hibernation almost a week before Arnold was picked to command the mission—so Arnold thought it was important to impress Schott the second he woke up. He hovered over the soldier’s sleeptube while the central computer brought him out of hibernation.
He agonized over his opening line. “Arise, my pawn,” seemed overblown. But “Get up and get ready to kick some mother-lovin’ ass!” didn’t have the right kind of grave dignity.
The shieldglass over Schott slid away. The soldier’s eyelids were fluttering. Arnold leaned down over him.
“Good morning, Sgt. Schott,” Arnold intoned menacingly. “It’s time to wake up and crush a rebellion.”
Schott groaned. “Wha’?”
“It’s time to wake up and crush a rebellion!”
The sergeant’s eyes opened. He stared up at Arnold, disoriented. “What did you say?” he mumbled, his voice slurred by years of sleep.
Arnold suppressed the urge to sigh. “Sgt. Schott, I am Ulysses S. Rook. I am in command of this mission. It’s time to get your men ready. We’re only a day away from Sigma Draconis IV.”
Schott rubbed his eyes groggily. “Sigma what? I thought we were going to New Venture.”
Arnold clinched his fists. “Yes, that’s right, Sergeant. They’re the same thing.” He whirled around and began using his newly perfected stride. “Get the troops ready. I’m contacting the rebels tomorrow.”
“Excuse me?”
Arnold kept striding.
Arnold spent most of the next day in his cramped chamber, hiding—although he preferred to think of it as “lurking.” He was still trying to cultivate an air of refined menace, but he wasn’t sure if it was working. The soldiers didn’t seem to fear him yet. He needed more practice.
Schott came to him every few hours with updates.
“The T-11s are locked down,” was one report. Arnold didn’t know if this was good or bad, so he just nodded curtly.
“The A.S.C. triple-naughts are primed and ready for action,” was the next update. That had to be positive, so Arnold smiled ominously. “Ex-cellent,” he hissed.
“The scheiss gun has been willowed and boundered,” Schott told him an hour later. “And the putz tubes are ready for planking.”
The soldier stared at Arnold. He seemed to expect some specific response this time. “By all means, plank away, Sgt. Schott. We can’t have unplanked tubes, can we?”
Schott smiled at that. “No, sir.” He saluted ostentatiously, turned crisply on his heel, and left.
The sergeant treated him with cool deference, which was satisfying. But Arnold had been hoping to inspire craven cowering in his underlings. Schott didn’t seem like the kind of man who did much cowering, though. He was easily six and a half feet tall, with steel-gray hair and hard eyes. Arnold had asked Schott to refer to him as “Commander Rook”—he’d picked out the name for its diabolical flair—but the soldier got around the order by simply calling him “sir.” That was good enough for Arnold.
Trying to impress Bull Schott and the troops had just been a warm-up, though. The people Arnold really needed to make an impression on were the rebels—the colonists of New Venture.
Thirty-four years ago, Omnicorp had received the first empty transport ship from its colony eighteen light-years away. The only cargo had been a single message disk. “As of this moment, the citizens of New Venture declare the Colonial Licensing Charter of 2116 to be null and void. We proclaim ourselves free from indenture to Omnicorp and all contractual obligations to same,” said the young woman on the disk, who identified herself as “President Yeo.” “We’re sorry it came to this. But obviously, our relationship had become pretty one-sided. We gave, you took. It’s best if it ends this way.” The woman smiled sweetly. “We can still be friends, can’t we? Good-bye.”
Still be friends? When New Venture owed Omnicorp 755 tons of iron, 467 tons of lead, 355 tons of copper, 301 tons of gold, 287 tons of silver, 212 tons of cobalt, 23 tons of deuterium, 14 tons of uranium, 13 tons of plutonium, 2 tons of diamonds and other precious stones, 987 samples of native flora and 546 samples of native fauna? Not to mention assorted penalties and fees now that was decades late. Arnold could figure it all up in his head. He’d come up through the Accounting and Finance division, after all.
Obviously, Omnicorp had to do something. If it didn’t act decisively, its days as a colonial powerhouse were over. Someone would have to go to New Venture to restore order. A company man. The ultimate company man.
Arnold still wasn’t really sure why they’d picked him. Maybe it was because he was one of the few candidates who really wanted to go.
It didn’t bother him that he would never see Earth again. He wasn’t leaving much behind. His sister, his mother, and his fish might miss him. No one else would. New Venture was a desolate, sparsely populated rock, but what he would have there would be endlessly more satisfying than anything he had back home: power.
He’d been picked out of obscurity for the assignment: He wasn’t a corporate star, not even a “go-getter” in most colleague’s eyes. But somehow Omnicorp’s decision hadn’t surprised him. He believed in destiny. He had always known that one day he would be a mighty figure of fear, that people would tremble before him. It had only been a matter of time before the Universe revealed the circumstances.
And now fate had deposited him on his own starship (actually a hastily refitted cargo barge once known as the Omnicorp New Jersey) complete with a platoon of fierce Marines (mostly debtors, petty criminals, and other conscripts, but they would soon prove themselves in battle), two powerful nuclear warheads (a couple of army-surplus Pocket Nukes), and the prerogative to use them as he saw fit.
Arnold clasped his hands behind his back. “Ex-cellent,” he said.
It sounded good, so he said it again.
Arnold had options. He could use one of the Pocket Nukes to announce his arrival. He could send down the Marines. Or he could hold off on the muscle until he’d gauged the rebels’ attitudes.
It was an easy choice. Pocket Nukes were expensive and—now that he was so far away from Earth—hard to come by. And though Bull Schott seemed capable enough, his troops were untested.
Negotiating first would give Arnold a chance to put his personal powers to the test. Could he intimidate the colonists into abject capitulation? Would they recognize and fear his authority, his ruthlessness? He had to find out.
He draped an Omnicorp flag on the back wall of his chamber and brought in Schott and two Marines to stand before it. Then he squeezed in front of them—it was a tight fit—straightened his jet-black tunic, cleared his throat and switched on the communi-unit.
“People of New Venture, the time of reckoning is at hand. I am Commander Ulysses S. Rook of the starship Rectifier. I have been sent by Omnicorp to restore the rule of law and collect payment past due. I have at my disposal both a nuclear arsenal and a full battalion of Earth’s finest fighting forces. I am more than willing to employ these resources to devastating effect. You are powerless to stop me. If your leaders do not signal to me their complete and utter surrender within three hours, I will destroy Venture City and send down my troops to take control of the planet. Your rebellion is at an end. Do not be so foolish as to test my resolve.”