Mutiny in Space by Rod Walker Page A

no need for violence. Mr. Rovio is going to tell us everything he knows about the Rusalka’s mission. Then we shall determine whether or not that information is useful, or if Mr. Rovio himself is useful to us.” He put a hand on Williams’s shoulder, and the captain stepped to the side.
    “Ducarti!” said Hawkins. “If you’re going to interrogate anyone, interrogate me. An apprentice crewer won’t know anything about the cargo!”
    “Do be quiet, Mr. Hawkins,” said Ducarti. “Now. Nikolai. Tell me all about the ship’s cargo.”
    I glared up at him. “You know about it already.”
    “In your own words, please,” said Ducarti. “Indulge me.”
    I wasn’t obliged to tell him anything but my name, my rank, and the designation of the ship upon which I served. But I knew that the Social Party did not bother with legal niceties, and Ducarti had absolutely no compunctions about killing me or anyone else. At least if I kept talking, I could keep him from killing me out of hand.
    “It’s grain,” I said. “A whole lot of grain from the colony on New Sibersk.”
    “So far, so good,” said Ducarti. “Now. What is special about New Sibersk? Backwater worlds, after all, are by definition quite common.”
    “It was founded by people from Novorossiya III,” I said. “Refugees. Who fled Novorossiya III after you guys wrecked the place.”
    Ducarti lifted his eyebrows. “We did not ‘wreck the place’, as you so vulgarly put it. We brought the Revolution to Novorossiya III and prepared to transition it to a true classless and equal society.”
    “Yeah,” I said. “You’re classless, all right.”
    Ducarti only sniffed dismissively at the feeble insult. “We were making excellent progress. Those who fled to New Sibersk were reactionaries and wreckers, saboteurs meddling with the advance of the Revolution.”
    “Then the Social government on Novorossiya III got overthrown,” I said.
    “Alas,” said Ducarti, “it appears that the people of Novorossiya III were simply not enlightened enough to appreciate that the hour of the true classless society had come. They shall learn, in time.” He made an impatient little flipping gesture with his right hand. “Now, why do you think the Social Party is so interested in their grain?”
    “Because you want to screw with the colony on New Sibersk,” I said. “They sank a lot of money into producing this harvest, and it’s all on this ship. If you steal the grain, you can hurt your enemies and make a big production about the Revolution striking back and all that nonsense. And my guess is your own people are probably starving because they can’t even feed themselves.”
    Williams bristled again. He really seemed enthusiastic about the Social Party. Maybe he thought it would annoy his brother. Ducarti gestured, and once again the captain subsided.
    “It is true that I seek to harm the enemies of the Revolution,” said Ducarti, “but you are overlooking the obvious. If we simply wanted to destroy New Sibersk’s harvest, it would be easier to simply shoot down the
Rusalka
. Or now that we have control of the ship, to steer her into the nearby red giant. But we have done neither of those things. Why?”
    “You tell me,” I said.
    Ducarti smiled. “Let us see if you can figure it out on your own, Nikolai Rovio.”
    “Games?” I said. “Really? You want to play games?”
    Ducarti shrugged. “Or I could just shoot you.”
    Okay. Maybe a game wasn’t so bad.
    I realized the sick bastard was enjoying this and another realization followed that. Toying with me instead of finishing his mission, whatever it was, was a mistake. But he needed to feed that oversized ego, and the more I played along, the more time I bought for the others on the ship to do something.
    “All right,” I said. “I’m in. So it’s not about the grain. Or it’s not just about the grain. Blowing up New Sibersk’s grain harvest is just a bonus.”
    “Go on,” said