The ‘Emperor 1’ was huge. Clinton had seen it on various Tri-D news segments and in many fictional adventure dramas, but approaching it in their armoured shuttle was a whole new experience. Initially Clinton thought they were getting close, but it took much longer than he had judged as the destination was much larger than expected.

  Sergeant Timms poked Clinton in the side, “Sit down, lad. My boys here will think you’re an ignorant country tourist.”

  Clinton took his gaze away from the shuttle view port and sat down next to the Sergeant, “Think what they want, Sergeant, that is an amazing view! I finally realised that what I thought to be small vents on the side are our arrival ports. There must be capacity for thousands of passengers and crew.”

  “Unfortunately not,” said the Sergeant dolefully, “We are going to have to hot swap the beds. One shift on and one shift off.”

  Clinton was stunned. Taking out a little telescopic viewer he had forgotten he had in his pocket, he stood up and viewed the ‘Emperor 1’ moving the viewer left and right, up and down and then sat down again. Taking out his communicator, he tapped a number of buttons intently.

  “How many of us will be there supporting the Emperor?” Clinton asked, “There’s thirty two of you, plus Harrick and myself, plus the Emperor and his entourage, and the crew of course.”

  Harrick was listening across the aisle and added, “The Lord High Chancellor and a platoon of his Protectors will be there too.”

  Clinton looked up in surprise. Sergeant Timms added, “After our friendly meeting the other evening, the Lord High Chancellor decided to take his own protectors as a ‘contingency force’, in case we fail.”

  Harrick laughed at the Sergeant’s explanation, “I should have known you would have the story already, Sergeant.”

  “Sources, Sir,” said the Sergeant, reminding Clinton of Hendon.

  Clinton continued, “So that may be at most a couple of hundred. Why are we short of space?”

  Now it was Captain Mapps turn to laugh, “It’s the ‘Emperor 1’, that’s why.”

  At Clinton’s enquiring look, the Captain added, “The Emperor is used to a luxurious life and needs his space. And so do his attendants. And his loyal advisors. We are all safely stored on the edge of that space.”

  “And so are Kluny and his Protectors,” said the Sergeant, “He’s going to hate that.”

  Clinton turned around and gazed out the view port. “That’s a lot of ship,” thought Clinton. He was in time to catch the quick blink as the shield dropped and they passed through accompanied by two other shuttles and the shield blinked back into existence behind them. An impervious shield sounded great in theory until you realised nothing could pass though it, whether you wanted it to or not.

  He was going to ask Harrick to see if he knew any more when they passed through the port and his attention was diverted to the hanger bay. The three shuttles passed through individual ports into the one huge hanger. A smaller version of the shields covered the openings in a pair and worked much like an airlock. One opened, the shuttles passed in between and then closed and then the inner one opened. It was much more efficient than metal or synth steel doors. Less prone to mechanical failure. Also, it meant everyone in the hangers had a great view of the space outside. If someone was agrophobic, joining the Federation of Planets navy was not for you! Space was really open.

  The Emperor’s Personal Imperial Guards all filed out in good order into the hanger, with Clinton and Harrick accompanying Captain Mapps and Sergeant Timms.

  The shuttle on the far side disembarked an equal number of the Lord High Chancellor Gubbin’s Protectors, led by Kluny. With an eye towards the PIGs, Kluny ensured his troops were arrayed in splendour. Stepping out of the central shuttle came a number of Court attendants, followed by High Chancellor Lord Gubbins moving with a curious scuttle of his tentacles over to be next to Kluny and then Lord De’Ath who walked over next to Captain Mapps.

  After a short amount of time which nicely increased the anticipation, the Emperor came down the ramp. He was seated on his lavish throne, securely placed on the top of a hover platform, decorated with intricate red and gold filigree. The Emperor raised an arm and slowly waved in greeting to the troops arrayed along either side of his passage.

  “Oorah!” said the Emperor lazily, and the troops replied with the traditional response “Roohah!”

  With that, the Emperor disappeared through the opening in the far wall and was out of sight.

  A ship’s attendant rushed up to each force. The one in front of Lord De’Ath stood to attention and presented a tablet, “Here are the berths for your troops, my Lord. The captain wishes to apologise for the cramped accommodations, but wishes to advise this was due to the last minute update of passengers joining us.”

  Lord De’Ath sent a scowl towards the High Chancellor which instantly converted into a friendly smile and wave when Lord Gubbins turned towards him. Lord Gubbins shook his head slowly in acknowledgement and led his forces into the further entrance that led to their quarters.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  With a last friendly wave as Lord Gubbins left, Lord De’Ath dropped his tentacles and turned to Captain Mapps and Harrick. He handed the tablet to Captain Mapps and said, “You will set yourself up in your quarters. I know it will be cramped as they have split the space equally between you and the Chancellor’s Protectors. Unfortunately, with the difference in individual sizes, you may find a rotation in the recreation rooms may be advisable.”

  “Mapps and Harrick,” said Lord De’Ath, “You are to come with me to my rooms. Let us discuss our plans for the Emperor’s ‘Little Hunt’”

  Mapps handed the tablet to Sergeant Timms, then turned and left with Harrick and Lord De’Ath to the exit into which the Emperor had departed.

  “Let’s all find our cosy new quarters, shall we?” asked Sergeant Timms with a smile. His boys were used to a little roughing it. They were rough, tough and used to hardship.

  ****

  Clinton was in a corner of the large recreation room number one. While they were crammed into small rest areas, the recreation rooms were spacious. “Just as well,” thought Clinton, “There’s not a lot of room with all these huge Shoats.” He smiled as he saw a number of the Shoats were in corners or out of the way spots sleeping or resting. Clinton was sure Hendon would be impressed. Good soldiers rest when they can, he had told Clinton more than once.

  Clinton had not had time or privacy to look at his purloined data but he did have time to wonder what it was. His little bot had been able to penetrate the HTI head office systems. The bot’s general directions were to find anything interesting and Clinton trusted his bot. It had been tested on the Dirt moon resort’s security and should have done its job. He felt a slight jump as the Intersect Drive activated. And a few moments later he felt the drive deactivate. That meant they had maybe eight hours until they reached the orbit of Dirt, traveling under the ‘Emperor 1’s huge pulse drive.

  Looking carefully around, Clinton ensured no one was watching him. He then checked his communicator. The data port in their rooms was not very well secured from the rest of the ship and he had been able to connect to the data pod storage bay. The ‘Emperor 1’ had many data pods to allow for important communications to be sent as required. He ‘borrowed’ one, prepared a message for Hendon to meet them in orbit around Dirt with the full HST forces in the HTI shuttle. Hidden secretly underneath that message was his ‘borrowed’ data which would securely transfer to his private storage as soon as Hendon opened the message.

  Tapping a button, he saw the data pod leave quickly and join the official data pod sent by the ‘Emperor 1’, hidden in the same energy signature. Together, they passed through the shield as it winked off and on, letting them through.

  Following Hendon’s good advice, Clinton locked his communicator in his inner pocket, folded his arms, and fell asleep. It was quieter in the busy rec room than the rest rooms filled with snoring Shoats.

  ****

  The Emperor stood at the large view screen, showing a magnificent view of the planet Dirt.

  Beside him were Lords Gubbins and De’Ath and behind them were Captain Mapps, Harrick and Kluny.

  “So that’s Dirt?” asked the Emperor in a young, high voice, “Looks pretty.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” said Lord Gubbins, “Where would you like to start your little hunt?”

  “Oh, there’s so much to choose from!” said the Emperor, “A lot of water there.”

  “About seventy percent water, and then a lot of the land is arid wastes,” said Lord De’Ath, “Perhaps we should let Commander Harrick help you decide? He has been down there many times.”

  “Ah yes, Harrick!” said the Emperor, looking at Harrick excitedly, “I saw your Tri-D shows. You have helped a lot of hunters.”

  Seeing Clinton, the Emperor pointed his short baton at him and said, “And you’re Clinton. We enjoyed seeing you in the shows too.”

  Clinton blushed. Harrick stepped forward, “Shall we select a good place to hunt, my Lord?”

  The Emperor turned away and faced the viewing screen, “No. Thank you Harrick, but I must decide. This will be Our little hunt.”

  Harrick gave an inaudible sigh and stepped back. Kluny grinned at his dismissal.

  “Remember the hunt I mentioned my son had?” said Lord Gubbins.

  ‘Yes!” said the Emperor, “We were very excited at that. His Tri-D shows are very exciting. Where was that?”

  Lord Gubbins looked at one of the ship’s technicians who quickly displayed Nantucket Island from the stored co-ordinates, “There it is. A small island off one of the larger continents.”

  Right next to Nantucket Island was Martha’s Vineyard where a hunting party had recently been wiped out. Harrick hoped they would move away from the heavily populated mainland. That was the land filled with Dirtlings with guns. HTI had been careful to minimise hunts there. Hendon had told him the locals kept track of what they called “Wipeouts” when they killed all members of a hunting party.

  “Well, if Sir Nitram did so well there, where shall we go?“ asked the Emperor.

  Lord De’Ath stepped in, “My Lord, perhaps up here. This is a lovely little island where you can get full control for your hunt.”

  Clinton knew from his geography that Bermuda Island, as the Dirtlings called it, would be an excellent hunting location. Too far from the mainland for armed response and isolated enough for there to be few complications. That would work great.

  “No, no no,” said the Emperor, “That’s too far away. I want to see how such lowly lifeforms live. I am sure when we arrive in our elegance, no matter who gazes upon us will not fail to be impressed. We are adored by everyone. Universally.”

  He turned to the viewing screen and directed the technician to move the view to the right.

  He pointed his baton at a large city on the screen. “Zoom in there.”

  The viewer zoomed in and they saw a large warren of buildings and roads.

  “We will do our little hunt there!” The Emperor declared imperiously.

  “Excellent choice, my Lord,” said Lord Gubbins, eager to see the locals get some retribution for hurting his son.

  “Are you sure, my Lord?” sputtered Lord De’Ath seeing the huge expanse of urbanised sprawl, “That is a lot of locals.”

  The Emperor looked at Lord De’Ath with a penetrating glare.

  Lord De’Ath stepped back and bowed, “Excellent choice, my Lord.”

  “It will be little different to looking at an insect nest up close,” declared the Emperor, “We will look upon these creatures. They will adore us. And we will have a little hunt.”

  The Emperor turned and beckoned to his attendants, Lords Gubbins and De’Ath, “Come! Let us prepare for our adventure. We are eager to begin.”

  As they left, Harrick looked in horror at the viewing screen, then at Captain Mapps and Sergeant Timms.

  ‘Tell your men you are about to experience Hell.”

  “What is Hell?” asked Captain Mapps, guessing it was bad by the context.

  “It’s a Dirtling term conveying a place of torment, bloodshed and pain. The Emperor has chosen to visit a Dirtling city with over twenty million residents. New York.”