Captain Trader Helmsman Spy: Finalist for Prometheus Award
Award for Best Libertarian SF Novel of 2022
The Libertarian Futurist Society announced its finalists for the Prometheus Award for Best Libertarian Science Fiction Novel of 2022. My novel Captain Trader Helmsman Spy, the fourth book in the Fall of the Censor series, is one of the finalists, along with Widowland, by C.J. Carey, Cloud-Castles, by Dave Freer, A Beast Cannot Feign, by “Dr. Insensitive Jerk” (AKA Gordon Hanka), and Summer’s End, by John Van Stry.
CTHS is the tale of how Captain Niko Landry and his crew infiltrate the oppressive Censorate empire to find out secret information—such as maps. They must pass as loyal subjects, knowing that any crime, such as having a book over a lifetime old, will bring prompt execution.
If you’d like to vote on the Prometheus awards, you can join the LFS here.
For those who haven’t read CTHS, here’s the opening scenes.
Niko Landry shone a handlight into the upper joint of his ship’s landing gear. One of the bearings was discolored. He slid down to the hangar’s concrete floor and pulled up the maintenance log on his tablet. Chief Engineer MacGregor had already marked the bearing for replacement.
“It’s not micromanagement if they don’t know you checked,” he muttered.
He started walking under the bow to the starboard landing leg, then checked as three strangers came into the hangar.
They were in Concord Navy uniforms. Like him, they were visitors to this newly liberated world. Not autograph seekers. They were too bold for that, acting as if they belonged here.
“Hey, spacer,” called the officer. “Where’s the master of the Azure Tarn?”
Niko pulled out a rag and wiped the grease from his hands. “Right here.”
The Navy man was surprised. Guess he didn’t expect captains to wear a jumpsuit with no braid. Whispers from one of his subordinates assured him this was Captain Landry, the explorer.
The officer closed to a comfortable speaking distance. He came to attention. “Sir, you are hereby notified that the freighter Azure Tarn is seized for the use of the Concord Navy. You have seventy-two hours to remove cargo and personal—” He stepped back, flinching from Niko’s glare.
Niko strained for self-control. He said, “By what authority?” in a voice only hinting of murder.
“The Defense Act, sir. It authorizes the Navy to seize any material essential to the war effort.” He glanced side to side, reassuring himself that his enlisted men were still with him.
Of course it was the Defense Act. The Navy had seized the largest merchant ships in service, making all the shipping corporations squeal. But they had dozens of ships each. Niko only had this one. The ship he’d spent most of his life on. His whole marriage. His son’s childhood.
“Right. I’m notified. You can go now.” Niko’s voice was almost calm.
“Sir, we need to mark the ship.” The officer—an ensign, they were younger every year—waved at the junior enlisted man. That one held up a sign marked with big red letters repeating what the officer had said.
Niko locked eyes with the sign holder. “Do it.”
That one moved without consulting either of his official superiors. He scampered to the forward airlock, affixed his sign to the hatch, and ran back to his fellows.
The officer said, “All members of the crew must be notified of—”
“I’ll notify them.”
The Navy man nodded, about faced, and led his men out of the hangar.
“I’ll notify them,” muttered Niko, “starting with the first mate.”
Lane Landry led her husband down the sidewalk fast enough he had to focus on not bumping into people. It kept him too distracted to start another rant.
She’d hoped the ranting he’d done while changing into dress uniform and on the way up here would have calmed him down. It had certainly amazed the locals. Corwynt hadn’t been liberated long enough for people to accept cursing the government in public as normal. They’d attracted a crowd on the escalators, eavesdropping from a safe distance.
She spotted their destination by the carpetbag painted on the hatch. She plunged inside, relieved to be off the sidewalk. A sturdy railing wasn’t enough to make her comfortable walking next to a four hundred foot drop.
The lawyer was waiting for them. “Captain Landry! First Mate Landry! I am so honored to meet you. I never thought I’d have a chance to see such famous explorers. I’m Tommy Corcoran. Please, come into my office.”
The guest chairs were padded leather. The desk was teak, which didn’t grow on Corwynt. The furniture, like the lawyer, was imported from Fiera.
“I read the files the first mate sent, but please tell me the situation in your own words.”
Niko described the visit from the Navy, his bond with Azure Tarn, and denounced the Navy’s favoritism toward megacorporations and crushing of independents.
Lane placed a hand on his arm. “I think you’ve covered the gist, dear.”
He cut himself off with, “It’s our home, dammit.”
Corcoran pressed his fingertips together. “I do have some good news for you. The seizure order was generated from Logistics Sector’s standard template, edited to redirect it to the seizing unit. The compensation offered is the scrap metal price, which is ludicrous. Your ship has been working continuously, not idle. Then there’s the historical value as the first ship out of the Bubble. I can ask some museums for what they’d bid on her as a display. I can get you at least ten times what the Navy’s offering.”
“I don’t want money,” snarled Niko. “I want my ship.”
The lawyer donned the sympathetic expression of one trying to save his clients from themselves. “The courts have been very deferential to the Defense Act. Every nation which lost a city to the enemy is still terrified. Even if a judge was willing to make an exception for your special circumstances it would take years to resolve. And we’d have to litigate it on Fiera.”
Niko’s jaw clamped shut.
Lane leaned forward. “You said Azure Tarn wasn’t going to Logistics Sector. What else would the Navy want with a freighter?”
“I don’t know, ma’am,” said Corcoran. “She’s designated for the Fifth Services Squadron, which I couldn’t find any information on. The order is signed by the equally mysterious Admiral Chin. Every other ship seizure I’ve seen was for Logistics Sector.”
Lane produced her tablet. “Excuse me a moment.”
Her call was answered voice-only. “Mom, can I call you back? I have people in my office.”
In the background people were trading angry shouts in the Corwynti dialect of English.
“Just a quick question for you, Marcus. Do you know Admiral Chin?”
“I haven’t met him. He’s head of Concord Naval Intelligence.”
“Where would I find him?”
“He’s in the bunch using the northwest corner of fifth level.”
“Thank you, Marcus. I’ll let you go back to work.”
Lane looked up to see both men staring at her.
“Interesting,” said Corcoran.
Niko didn’t say anything. He seemed to be thinking, thank heavens.
Lane said, “Yes. But we should keep that among ourselves.”
Corcoran nodded. “Client confidentiality is a much better protection for secrets than military classification.”
“I’m sure. Please prepare that reimbursement request but hold on to it until you hear from us.”
From the lawyer’s to the Navy offices was less than a half mile walk. The top level of Bundoran was nine buildings—ardals—in an evenly spaced grid. Lane only minded the cross walks from one ardal to another. In space you had room to recover from mistakes. Here gravity would accelerate you through four hundred feet faster than anyone could conceive a rescue plan.
Halfway around the northwest ardal a hatch stood open. Inside was a security desk labeled, ‘Concord Navy Administration.’ A petty officer said, “Sir, ma’am, this facility is for authorized personnel only.”
Lane stepped forward. “Captain Landry to see Admiral Chin.”
“Um . . . do you have an appointment?”
“No,” she said in her best I-never-need-an-appointment tone.
The petty officer began typing frantically.
“Sir, ma’am, let me find you an escort to take you up.”
The escort was led by a charming junior petty officer who fanboyed over Lane and Niko to disguise the dawdling pace he was leading them on. Two armed guards walked behind saying nothing. Two other spacers ran ahead, closing doors, shouting “Uncleared visitors!” at people in the hallway, and otherwise making Lane remember Father Murphy’s sermon on lepers.
The antechamber they were ushered through bore darkened screens and tables cleared of everything but coffee cups.
The chatty escort opened the inner door. “Sir, Captain and First Mate Landry to see you.”
He waved them in and closed the door behind them.
It was clear which of the two men in the office was Admiral Chin. He came out from behind his desk, braided sleeve extended. “Captain Landry. I am so sorry for the unfortunate necessities the war forces on us.”
Niko accepted the handshake. One handed shakes were starting to feel odd after so long on Corwynt. “Hello, Admiral. May I introduce my first mate, Lane Landry.”
The Landrys were in their impress-the-passengers dress uniforms. The braids and decorations didn’t come close to the admiral’s magnificence, but they were a match to the other Navy man.
Admiral Chin introduced him as, “Captain Kim. He’ll be commanding your—commanding the ship.”
Niko studied Kim’s uniform as they shook hands. “Are you a career Intelligence officer?”
“Most of my career, yes.”
Chin broke in. “He did have a tour commanding a destroyer.”
Lane decoded Kim’s decorations as well. He hadn’t distinguished himself as a ship commander. But that was obvious enough from his posting in Intelligence.
“We wondered why you were interested in Azure Tarn,” she said. “She’s rather small for a supply ship.”
“You’re right,” answered the admiral. “But I’m afraid the reasons are classified.”
“Our clearances as Sulu Republic Navy auxiliaries are still current,” said Niko.
Chin glanced at his junior. “Verify that.”
Captain Kim began tapping on a console on a side table.
The wait was filled with chatter about the Landrys’ first visit to Corwynt. Chin had read the public stories and the classified reports. His questions about how they escaped the pursuing Censorate carrier were incisive.
Niko answered them in detail. Demonstrating his skills and that of his crew could only help his case for regaining Azure Tarn.
When he finished explaining why he’d chosen to rupture his ship’s hull with an emergency jump to normal space, Kim reentered the conversation.
“Sir, they’re both cleared for Most Secret by the SRN. There were also background checks done on them when their son, Lieutenant Marcus Landry, transferred to Concord service.”
Lane smiled at this. Niko gave him a told-you-so nod.
“Splendid,” said Admiral Chin. “Then I may give you an explanation to go with my apologies. Please, take a seat.”
He led them to a holoprojector table with metal chairs around it. Niko steered Lane to the seat with a cushion.
Chin pressed a button. The space over the table lit up with a map of hyperspace from Fiera to Corwynt. Lane recognized some additions to the last map she’d seen. Was the Navy keeping survey data to itself?
“This is all we know,” said Chin. “No one has a clue how big the Censorate is. Does it go past the wall of this room? To the side of the ardal? Outside the city?”
A few more buttons added sketched lines to one side. “This is what we’ve gathered from the local spacers, but that only takes us out a few more systems.”
Kim coughed. “The Landrys were instrumental in assembling the reports from the locals, sir.”
“Oh? Well done.”
Lane smiled again. “They have a tradition of trading routes and updates on shoal conditions. We gave them the map to Fiera, and they were happy to reciprocate.”
“Excellent. We don’t know how far into the Censorate that is. The locals have crossed the provincial boundary, but we don’t know how many provinces there are.”
Chin shrank down the map. A series of spheres appeared, each touching Corwynt at its edge. “The only real data we have to work with is how long it took the Censorate fleet to reach Fiera. The locals report the governor went to his superior, the Monitor, to borrow ships. With two pieces of information that gives us the size of the Censorate. First, how straight was the path to the Monitor. Second, where is the Monitor—at the center with the Censor? Close to the edge to shorten communications lag? Our guesses give us this range of possible sizes.”
Lane eyed the hologram unhappily. Even the smallest estimate of the Censorate was hundreds of planets against Fiera, Corwynt, and the handful of barely terraformed worlds aligned with them. At the largest guess, the Censorate could crush them before the Censor ever heard of Fiera’s existence.
“But this is just an elaborate way of saying we don’t know,” said Chin. “That’s why we need the Azure Tarn.”
Niko only raised his eyebrows.
“She’s a conventional freighter of a design so plain that the Censorate never noticed your arrival on Corwynt. We’re manning her with the best operatives and imagery analysts we have. They’ll go into Censorate space, collect operational and industrial data, and return. If all goes well, they’ll find the Monitor’s capital.”
Lane studied the admiral’s posture. He’d been wanting to brag about his brilliant plan to someone who could appreciate it. Now he was waiting for the praise to come.
“We certainly need that data,” said Niko. “And Azure Tarn could be the best ship for the mission.”
He pivoted to face Kim. “Captain, how much does a cubic meter of fuel go for here?”
“I’d have to ask my quartermaster.”
“If you were bartering for it, would you offer frozen fish or iridium ingots?”
“I’d check the market price for them,” said Kim defensively.
“We still have some speculative cargo on board from our last run to Fiera. Would you want it for your mission?”
Kim brightened. “Thank you, that would be very helpful.”
Niko turned back to Admiral Chin. “Captain Kim and his crew will be all dead twenty-four hours after landing on a Censorate world.”
Kim sprang to his feet. “My spacers are all skilled professionals!”
Lane broke in before one of the men could escalate further. “Captain, I am a skilled professional. Would you let me operate on your kidney?”
She couldn’t tell if it was the logic of the question or her charm which relaxed him.
Kim sat. “No. You’re not a doctor.”
The admiral was still offended. “It seems Captain Kim flunked your pop quiz, Captain Landry. Since I would have given the same answers, I’d like an explanation of why those questions matter for an intelligence mission.”
“Certainly, sir. Azure Tarn has a large fuel capacity for a Fieran freighter as part of her surveyor package. Compared to local ships she’s a little short legged. You can by-pass one or two systems but every two weeks or so you’ll have to refill the tank. That means bartering for it. The Censorate doesn’t have a common currency.”
“It doesn’t?” exclaimed the admiral.
Kim nodded in confirmation. So, he wasn’t totally ignorant of the economics of his mission.
Niko continued, “To barter successfully you need to understand the market. Corwyntis have fresh fish every day. Frozen fish is worthless here. You’d save that for a dry world or space station.”
The Navy men shared a look of enlightenment.
“As for the cargo, we just came from Fiera. We have books, medical supplies, toys based on old stories, Christian decorations, and other stuff never seen in the Censorate. It would set off all sorts of alarm bells.”
“Those are certainly important points,” said the admiral. “I’d already been thinking of offering you a consulting contract given your experience. You’ve persuaded me that’s even more valuable.”
“I can’t give you decades of experience in a few briefings.”
The men were tensing up again.
Lane said, “Sir, imagine if a civilian stowed away on a cruiser and tried to pass himself off as one of the crew. Give him a uniform, let him read books—how long would he last?”
Chin smirked. “Until his first conversation with a petty officer.”
She matched his expression. “For a freighter crew it would be the first barter negotiation. You’ll need fuel, food, maybe parts, and new cargo to replace what you traded off. That’s a lot of barter.”
“At every port,” added Niko.
The two Navy men shared a look again. Then Chin turned back to the Landrys. “That is a skill we lack. Are you suggesting we include some civilians in the crew? I don’t see how that would work.”
“Why not?” asked Lane.
Captain Kim said, “This is far too dangerous for civilians.”
Both Landrys burst into laughter. Niko was still giggling as Lane said, “When we first discovered the Bubble had opened, we discussed the possible dangers before going through. We imagined automated killing machines. War plagues. Evolved post-humans who could make us disappear with a word. All sorts of things. Yet we went through.”
“One of my crew was terrified of plagues,” said Niko. “She made me promise to report the danger to the health authorities. I did. We were tested before meeting the Planetary Liaison.”
“Those were hypothetical dangers,” said Kim. “The Censorate is very real.”
Niko’s voice hardened. “The Censorate was real when it attacked Fiera. How many civilians manned the auxiliary ships in our fleet? The SRN had thousands of civilian crew. The whole fleet must have included tens of thousands.”
“Conscripts,” said Kim.
“Yes, we were. But we all had chances to desert. We fought anyway.”
Time to calm the boys again. “There are Corwynti civilians going into Censorate space right now. Doing real trading on enemy worlds. Noticing things they report when they return.”
That made the Navy men think again.
“Go to the spacer bars,” said Niko. “There’s Navy bars and merchant bars. They don’t mix. When a fleet arrives there’s brawls until everyone’s sorted.”
Chin and Kim nodded.
“Any Navy man on this mission is a risk. One wrong conversation with a supplier or in a bar, and there’s rumors going around the port about this ship not being right. The Censorate will hear that, even if no one brings it to them for a reward.”
That made them frown, more in a ‘we need a new plan’ way than a ‘we don’t believe you’ one.
“Do you have a proposal?” asked Admiral Chin.
Niko said, “Yes. Give me my ship back. Hire me to obtain the data you want. I’ve done surveys for the Concord before. I did this exact mission when I discovered Corwynt. I can do it for you.”
Lane resisted the temptation to shake her head. How had her nice, staid husband developed such a taste for adventure? For over two decades their biggest risks were speculating on cargo for the Svalbard trade, not knowing if the ice pioneers would have goods to trade for it. Now they were exploring the unknown, or fighting space battles, or being spies now.
She supposed she was luckier than the women who saw their husband blow their savings on a red flyer or blonde bimbo.
“Will your crew volunteer for this?” asked Captain Kim.
“Most. And I’ll need to recruit some Corwyntis anyway, ones who’ve traded on the nearby worlds. I can have a crew in a week or two.”
Chin raised his brows. “That fast?”
“I could do it faster, but we have a wedding coming up in a few days. Our son is getting married.”
“I’d heard,” said Kim. “To that young lady who helped the Marines, yes?”
Lane nodded. “Yes, Wynny Goch.”
“Then I’ll give you three weeks,” said Admiral Chin. “If you have a crew ready to go, I’ll cancel the seizure.”
“Plus a fee for the completion of the mission,” said Niko.
“How much are you thinking?”
“Four million marks.”
Chin’s jaw dropped. “That’s—that’s ludicrous!”
Niko waved at Captain Kim. “Every Navy man who volunteered for this mission expected promotions and medals. It’s a high risk, high reward operation. They expected to be rewarded appropriately. In the merchies we keep score with cash, and my crew will be compensated fairly.”
“Yes, but—that’s nearly ten times my sector budget!”
“Oh? How were you going to pay the compensation for the seizure?”
“That comes from the Concord General Fund, not my budget.”
Niko snorted. “No wonder Logistics Sector is seizing so many ships, if it doesn’t cost them anything.”
“Talk to the Provisional Government,” interjected Lane. “They’re collecting half the Censorate’s taxes and only spending a fifth of what they did, so the credits are stacking up.”
At their last dinner together, Marcus had gone on at length about some of his co-workers’ silly ideas for disposing of the surplus. They were terrified of handing too much cash to the local government to be elected next year.
“I’d heard of that,” said Chin. He thought a moment. “Yes, that could work.”
Niko held out his hand. “My ship, a cargo, and four million when we return.”
“Agreed.” Admiral Chin shook it.