Old Maui

He didn’t have the nickname when I first knew him.

Rumours flew about him, about his connections in Congress. But no one knew much about his history. Only that we had been assigned to his company, a mission to restore order to the Hawaiian territory. Not that we knew much about the situation on the ground before we landed.

Less than a week out from shore, only days into our voyage across the Pacific, he called me into his office and told me exactly what he wanted me to do.

I won’t pretend that I was entirely surprised by the orders. Everyone in the forces knew that a posting to Hawaii was a dream assignment. Tropical beaches, beautiful weather, vibrant traditions revived after the Collapse; but we also knew that the locals resented our presence there. They still thought of themselves as independent thanks to their staunch fighting during the After-Shock Wars that put the final nails in the old order’s coffin.

But as waystation across the Pacific, it had to be either held by the Republic or by our enemies. So twenty years before, the islands had been taken and converted into a protectorate. And in order to carry out the protect part of that word, we built the largest naval base in the Republic, maybe even in the world.

Word around the ship was that we were going to stop some kind of indiscretion on the islands. That maybe the Governor had let one too many abuses of power go unchecked. True enough, but missing the severity of the problem by a country mile.

“Do you know why we’re going to Hawaii, Annora?”

“Change of the guard, sir,” I didn’t know what he wanted me to say. This slightly built man who seemed to wet the trousers of my previous CO. “I understand there has been some impropriety on the islands.”

“Impropriety,” he mused, idly running his fingers through stringy brown hair. “What a kind word for it. Yes, we are going to reinforce Republic control of the island and the population. You know, of course, just how important that base of ours is.”

Since this was not a question, I didn’t answer, just let the man speak.

“And what with the rising tensions coming out of the South Pacific Federation, not to mention those upstarts in Haida Gwaii, control over these islands is going to be critical in the coming years. So we need to ensure that the locals are content with Republic rule – rule that has, thus far, failed them.”

Failed them? I didn’t understand. We hadn’t been invited in to save them, like with the Mohave Wasteland tribal states. But, surely we weren’t in the process of destroying their culture the way that history taught had happened pre-Collapse. Maybe they chaffed under decisions being made on mainland NorAm, but it had to be better than powers actively contesting their home.

“Sorry, sir,” I tried to maintain my professionalism. Everyone knew that occupation meant an element of corruption, it was seen as inevitable. And no administration was perfect, how exactly was it possible that they could see our comparatively light touch as a negative? “What do you mean that we failed them?”

“It was inevitable, really. Too much going on closer to home for Congress to worry about a cluster of islands at the end of the Earth. But that left certain forces in charge, unsupervised, and there’s that old saying about the cat being away to consider.”

“So, our role is to restore faith in the Republic?”

“After a fashion.”

“Sir,” I was confused. Everyone knew that being assigned to Hawaii meant an easy post. It was given out as a reward, and the people who went never came home without a laundry list of stories about their time which only added to the allure. Friendly, warm, inviting, profitable since housing and food were completely paid for out of federal coffers. “What are we going there to do?”

“There is a rot in the core of every human enterprise. An entropic decay that needs to be monitored by an impartial outside observer. Imagine it like gardening, if you don’t pay attention, don’t take the effort to prevent weeds from taking over, then you have to purge the garden. A blight could infect the crop, weeds could steal vital water and nutrients, things die.”

“And we’re going to prune the garden?”

“No. We are going to purge it.”

His eyes narrowed as the silence stretched. It was clear that he had not chosen to share the extent of his ambition with anyone outside of that room. ‘Purge’ is a powerful word, it could mean any number of things, but unlike how ‘decimate’ is often misused, the severity of it is always intimately understood. Now the only thing I had to fear was what exactly this man would order us to do to the population. That and whether I would follow the orders.

“How?”

“Simple. Take steps to ensure that everyone from officers to the lowest enlisted members to the peasants on fruit plantations or sitting in fishing huts knows what is happening. Knows that we are there to make their lives safer, by purging the defence staff of any mal-actors.”

“The… defence staff, sir? I don’t understand.”

“Most people won’t. Most people think that, if a place is rising in revolt, that they need to put more pressure on the population. Retaliatory killings, acts of repression, the elimination of political discourse ‘just until the crisis is resolved.’ But do you know what happens when a glass is compressed to the breaking point, and then more pressure is added?”

“It breaks.”

“Not only breaks. It explodes. We could lose the whole archipelago just because some people want to make a bit of money or have their way with attractive locals. Do you know what that is? What it’s called when people put their own interests above the state and in so doing damage the state?”

“Treason…”

He smiled thinly at me, and the thought that this must be how a mouse feels when cornered by a cat flashed across my mind. I had never been to the islands. The California Republic had never seen fit to deploy me there, perhaps my service hadn’t been meritorious enough. But it was mostly officers who had been to the islands themselves who chose those being deployed.

“You mentioned money and… uh… indiscretions with the locals.”

“A polite word for these abuses.”

“Why are you telling me this now? Why not before we left port?”

“Because, I wanted to make sure that we were not in a position for anyone to depart. I’m sorry, you come highly recommended, but I do not yet have reason to trust you completely. Such things are earned.”

“Sir, if I am being tested, please be honest about it.”

“Life is a test, Annora. We never cease being judged. Read this,” he threw a thick file across the desk to me. “When you’ve finished, return to me and we’ll decide how best to proceed. I chose Emrys for this mission myself, knowing enough about his last deployment to the islands, expressly for this purpose.”

“Purpose?”

“Read the file, Captain. Then we’ll talk.”

As it turned out, I did not need to discuss options with him, I agreed wholeheartedly with his recommendation. Captain Emrys Green was my friend, but the more I read of that file, the more my stomach churned at the thought of how many hours we had spent laughing and carousing together. If the evidence in the file Teivel Branoc had handed me was accurate, then the man I had known for so many years was one of the vilest creatures I could conceive of.

That abuses and excesses were abnormal was mentioned several times. And that the things he and his companions had inflicted on the islands were the most severe currently on record. In that file hid the reason for the Governor to select him for this mission. His final orders, though he did not know it, was to serve as an example to the marine company currently under Governor Branoc’s command. An example of what happens to soldiers who think themselves above the law.

Teivel Branoc claimed that it would only take one lesson.

Given what was in the file, the stories, witness testimonies, and analysis of his financial records, I held no illusions about the justness of Governor Branoc’s plan. Emrys had to die. Not just for his crimes against the islanders, but also against the state. He had disgraced his uniform and blackened the reputation of the whole Republic in her occupied territories.

High treason. It chilled my blood. Quite apart from everything else.

-0-

The trial was quick. The evidence damning.

Teivel spoke at length about duty, honour, integrity, and the almost sacred duty that members of an occupying force have to preserve the interests of their state. Abuse of locals is not to be tolerated, and he hoped that what we witnessed that day would serve as a poignant reminder of our purpose. Should any of his command not be willing to do what needed doing, then they could remain on the ship and go home after we docked on Maui.

Honourable discharge, allowing for the necessary checks to ensure that their departure was not fueled by a fear of being found out. No penalties for breach of contract with the state, and no chance to redeploy. Soldiers, said the Governor, do not get choices in their missions or their commanders. They do what they’re told, or they go home.

Emrys had not previously been told what exactly he was being tried for. When the military police approached him in the mess, he thought that we had received word from the mainland. That maybe something had happened to his brother up on the border with the independent Idaho territory. They read him his rights upon arrest, and he started arguing. Then the cuffs came out.

I was there. Had been staring across the room at his back, hating him. If even half of what I had read about in that file was true, then I firmly believed that he deserved what was coming his way. Maybe it was my shared sex with his victims, but Governor Branoc planted a seed of hate in my heart that day. One that I still feel growing, whenever he hands me a new report in a new territory.

“Emrys Green,” intoned the Governor, looking down his nose at the man in his dress uniform, kneeling in irons on the deck of the transport ship. “You stand accused of gross violation of human decency, flagrant disregard for the code of military conduct, sexual violence against an occupied people, and crimes against humanity to that same occupied people. What say you?”

“The fuck are you talking about,” shouted Emrys, handsome face ashen under a sheen of fear sweat. I think it was fear, given the cold wind that lashed our cheeks as the rest of the Governor’s guard and the ship’s crew stood in ranks, watching. “I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“You deny the charges?”

“Charges? What charges! You’ve done nothing but list a bunch of offences that anyone could have done! You have no proof, and your locking me up like this is illegal!”

“You are aware of what the term imperium means, correct?”

“No. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Imperium is the power of life and death, Mr. Green. I have that power over you, should you violate the laws to a sufficient degree.”

“Lies! No one has that power!”

“You do not understand just how important the security of the Hawaiian territory is to Congress.”

“According to the rights and powers bestowed upon me by the Congress of the Californian Republic, I hereby convene this court marshal. Having reviewed your crimes with a panel of legal experts prior to this mission, I find you guilty of all charges and condemn you to death in alignment with Section 46 subsection 13 paragraph 28.”

I watched what little blood was there drain out of Emrys’s face. I probably knew the most about Governor Teivel Branoc on that ship, and even then I knew next to nothing. Silence shrouded the deck, a silence that stretched, consuming time and awareness. I could only see Emrys kneeling there, even the Governor slipped out of knowing.

Emrys had been my friend, a close drinking buddy, and a killer wingman. He had never given me reason to fear him, nothing had ever passed between us that might mean he was unsafe. But what I had read in that report, the indisputable evidence of his crimes against humanity in the Hawaiian territory, tore that away from me. Standing there, in rank with the other officers, I stared down at something I barely recognized as human.

“You may have a moment with the Chaplin, should you desire,” Governor Branoc’s voice was soft, detached. He did not even seem to care that a man was going to die, but then again, at that point neither did I.

Emrys swore at him. The Governor shook his head and gave the order that the condemned be stood up. We all thought he was going to have him shot. Or maybe thrown in the brig until we got to the islands and could hang him properly. But Teivel Branoc ordered Emrys – bound hand and foot – brought to the railing.

They spoke quietly together, the Governor’s hand resting on his side arm. He seemed to be making some kind of request, or offering something. At the time I couldn’t guess, but later I knew that the Governor was offering a kinder death in exchange for names and information. Emrys spat at him, the Governor pushed him over the edge, and Emrys vanished. Scream lost to the wind and the sound of our engines, he was simply… gone.

Governor Branoc looked down at the water where the man had vanished and shook his head. Disappointed. Then turned on his heel, dismissed the assembly and returned to his office. Around me, offers muttered to one an other. They were good soldiers, and I knew that mutiny would be on the minds of our juniors. But I also knew that we would not mutiny, the other officers I then learned had also read the report, and so had most of or soldiers.

I never forgot the first time I watched Branoc kill a man. The day that I felt he had avenged the victims of Emrys’s abuses. I was there on Maui when he cleansed it. When he purged the corruption from the whole Hawaiian Occupation. When the legend of The Hangman was born. And I left with him, marching slowly down the soon to be nicknamed Traitor’s Dock, when the mission was done. It’s strange, I sometimes think, just how much loyalty can be earned so easily.