Imperial Sunset

by Eric Thomson

  “Aye. They could appear at any moment.” She climbed to her feet. “I’ll order the officer of the watch get us underway. Hopefully, we’ll manage a clean break.”

  “And even if the rebels see us before we cross the event horizon, we’re passing through two uninhabited systems with three termini each before we reach Coraline and the first wormhole connecting to the Coalsack Sector. Since they probably concentrated around Toboso for a major operation, they won’t waste time chasing us any further. We’re not much of a threat to anyone.”

  “From your lips to the Almighty’s ear, sir.”

  “I don’t think the Almighty is listening to us these days, Iona. Otherwise, why let humanity retake the path of self-destruction?”

  Mikkel gave him a tight smile. “It’s that pesky free will thing, sir. Either that or He figures we’re due for another cleansing by fire and sword after we drowned our glorious thousand year empire under a wave of self-satisfied degeneracy. Or at least our supposed betters did.”

  With that observation, she left Morane to stare at the stars on his cabin’s display. A few minutes later, the jump klaxon sounded, and the 197th’s three remaining starships jumped across the system before heading down another wormhole and further away from the sector capital that gave birth to the rebellion.

  — 6 —

  Shortly after emerging from Coraline Wormhole Two, several days and wormhole transits later, the CIC signals petty officer raised his hand to attract Morane’s attention. “Sir, I’m picking up a distress signal on standard Fleet radio frequencies, plural, from Coraline. It’s encrypted with a four-month-old algorithm, but there’s no subspace carrier wave. The Coraline system’s relay is either down or destroyed, and none of the wormhole traffic control buoys are broadcasting.”

  “What sort of signal?”

  “Text only. It says the 6th Battalion of the 21st Pathfinder Regiment is surrounded by hostile forces intent on annihilation and requires immediate extraction from Coraline.”

  “Pathfinders? What the hell is a battalion of Pathfinders doing here?”

  “More to the point, sir,” Mikkel said, “why aren’t they identifying themselves as Imperial Pathfinders. Our Marine Corps siblings are punctilious to a fault about proper protocol.”

  “Perhaps they renounced their allegiance to the Crown.” He thought for a moment, then touched the command chair’s arm. “Captain to the CIC.”

  Creswell’s voice replied almost at once. “CIC, sir.”

  “I need a close scan of Coraline and its immediate environs.”

  “Will do. Is that related to the distress signal we picked up?”

  “Aye, Annalise. I’d like to swing by Coraline instead of making directly for the next wormhole terminus. Finding a battalion of Pathfinders marooned in a minor system like this and calling for help intrigues me. Especially since it seems they dropped part of their regimental title, the same part we’ve shed.”

  “You’re thinking kindred spirits?”

  “Perhaps.” Morane turned to his navigation officer. “Tupo, plot a course to take us within four light minutes of Coraline. That’ll cut the time lag and still give us enough of a standoff in case rebel ships are hiding in orbit. Once the CIC confirms there are no clear threats, we’ll jump.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.” Lieutenant Hak replied.

  “Signals, the moment we drop out of FTL, send a reply merely identifying us as the cruiser Vanquish and ask for a full situation report. Use the same encryption.” He climbed to his feet. “Officer of the watch, you have the con. I’ll be in my day cabin. Iona, with me.”

  “I have the con.” Lieutenant Vietti took the command chair.

  Once in his sparsely furnished and decorated office, halfway between the bridge and the CIC, Morane drew two cups of tea from the samovar sitting on a sideboard.

  “What are you thinking, Skipper?” She accepted a mug and sat in front of Morane’s desk. “I see that look on your face.”

  “I’m not sure. According to the latest order of battle, the 118th Marines, as well as the 14th Guards Regiment, make up the ground forces garrison on Coraline. Why did HQ send a Pathfinder battalion? And why are they facing annihilation? Interesting choice of words, by the way?”

  Mikkel shrugged. “Could be the 118th Marines did like a lot of regiments in the Shield Sector. They rebelled and set out to remove the local governor general when Admiral Loren shot Viceroy Rewal and abjured the Crown. When that happened, the 14th Guards would have objected and called for help. Perhaps Wyvern sent the Pathfinders as reinforcements for the Guards, since units like the 21st come under Fleet HQ, not sector command.”

  “Now they want out of a mess not of their creation.”

  “Perhaps. I can’t see Pathfinders getting along with Guards.”

  “No one gets along with Guards, Skipper.”

  “Nor can I see rebellious line Marines being anything other than suspicious of elite troops renowned for their loyalty to the empire, if not necessarily to the person of the sovereign.”

  “Are you thinking of recruiting them to our cause?”

  “It’s worth checking out. Lyonesse would at best have a reserve unit for ground defense, seeing as how it’s a thoroughly uninteresting system. If we’re to set up a human knowledge vault, then who better to help than the Corps’ finest? Since they’re reputed to be even more bereft of familial and homeworld attachments than us spacers...”

  “Don’t get too excited, sir. They may not be our sort of people, and by that I mean the sort who’ve renounced their allegiance. You just said yourself that these Pathfinders are renowned for their loyalty.”

  Morane gave her a thin smile. “When you’re facing death, loyalties can become fluid. If that death is for a cause you no longer support, then why stick around? They wouldn’t put out a distress signal on normal radio channels hoping a passing ship might pick it up if they were ready to die in the name of the empire. Otherwise, why bother with such a forlorn hope?”

  “Okay. Let’s say they’ll be happy to join our merry band. How big is a Pathfinder battalion?”

  “Six or seven hundred, I suppose. Less if they’ve suffered casualties. And I know where you’re going with this Iona.”

  “Good. Then consider this. We can take maybe two-and-a-half companies worth, say three hundred at a pinch, aboard Vanquish, since our Marine barracks are vacant. That means the rest will have to go aboard Narwhal. She has internal space, but to carry things, not people. Her environmental systems might not be able to accommodate a hundred percent increase in living, breathing, shitting human beings. I won’t even mention Myrtale since she can’t carry much more than a platoon or two at best. Then, there’s the matter of food. Do we carry enough to feed another six hundred for however long it’ll take us to reach Lyonesse? We should assume they won’t be bringing much with them. Finally, there’s the little matter of lifting that many armored troops, potentially under hostile fire, with our shuttles.”

  Morane grinned at her. “Spoken like a true first officer. How about you make a quick survey of the battle group’s capacity for carrying extra passengers in terms of both space and rations? I’ll ask Annalise to look at how we might pick up a few hundred stranded Marines and their gear with whatever lift we can muster between us, Narwhal and Myrtale. That way we’ll be ready to discuss specifics once we’re within a reasonable distance for a radio conversation.”

  “CIC to the captain. We can’t detect any threats. There may be ships running silent, but Coraline’s orbit appears devoid of everything except debris.”

  “Thank you, Annalise. Captain to the bridge.”

  “Officer of the watch.”

  “Execute the planned jump to four light minutes from Coraline when everyone reports ready.”

  — 7 —

  Dagon Verkur intercepted DeCarde on the way to Klim’s conference room where they’d been summoned for yet another useless command conference.

  “A little birdie told me you made overtures
to the rebels. Without the governor general’s knowledge.” He tut-tutted. “There’s a word for that.”

  “Nonsense?”

  “No.” A vicious smile spread across the man’s bloated features. “Treason. Punishable by death. You know, a drumhead court-martial followed by a quick execution.”

  DeCarde made a dismissive gesture. “Since we will die anyway, why bother?”

  “To make an example.”

  “And you think your Guards will arrest me?” She chuckled. “Perhaps you should try, Dagon. If we thin out your ranks, there will be more food left for us. Since the rebels won’t bother assaulting the fortress now that they can starve us into submission, it might allow my unit to last long enough for rescue by a loyal Navy task force.”

  Verkur gave her a suspicious stare. “How do you know they want to let us starve? Did the rebels tell you?”

  “It stands to reason, Dagon. Why risk massive casualties to seize this place once we’re unable to break out? Let nature take its course. Didn’t you pay attention during your advanced tactics course? Or are Guards officers promoted past lieutenant without the sort of training foisted on us Marines? It would explain how we ended up in this mess. I can understand Klim being an idiot with delusions of military adequacy, but I expected better from the Guards. Not much, but a little.”

  “Keep talking yourself into a treason charge, Brigid.” His lip curled up in a sneer.

  “Since I can’t talk my way out of Klim Castle without getting shot by the rebels, thanks to your poor grasp of counterinsurgency operations, showing disrespect for her nibs is the next best thing.”

  “Oh? Would you have done better under the circumstances?”

  “Here’s a hint, if ever you’re reincarnated as something more evolved than a louse. Reprisals against civilians are a great way to help rebel recruitment drives.”

  “We had orders from Wyvern.”

  “I know. Dendera’s another idiot with delusions. Except she has a nasty streak of sociopathy instead of a fondness for gin.”

  “That’s ‘Her Majesty the Empress’ to you, DeCarde. She’s still your sovereign and commander-in-chief.”

  “I guess you subscribe to the notion of dulce et decorum est pro patria mori?”

  “What now?”

  “So... No mandatory history studies in the Guards either, eh? What was Senator Ruggero — pardon me, Emperor Stichus thinking when he converted half of the Army’s line regiments into Guards units? At least he gave us the others, and we didn’t waste them on toy soldier nonsense. Here, let’s take well-educated, well-rounded officers and turn them into mindless automatons? Or does swearing an oath to the sovereign’s person instead of the constitution turn you into nekulturny?”

  “And yet you’re the one who’s not making a shred of sense, jarhead.”

  “Well, they do say it’s impossible to communicate with someone whose IQ is two or more standard deviations below yours. Shall we take our seats so the countess can grace us with her tactical brilliance?”

  “Did you or did you not speak with the rebels?”

  “At this point, what does it matter? They’ve made it quite clear they want everyone dead. Our only options are to die slowly inside Klim Castle or more quickly kneeling beside a ditch, waiting for a shot in the back of the head.” DeCarde stepped around Verkur and entered the conference room. “I doubt the rebels will bother running us through their extermination camps for shits and giggles. Or at least they won’t try it with my people. Yours? Perhaps.”

  “Why?” Verkur slipped into his usual seat.

  “They want us dead merely because we stayed loyal to the empire. It’s nothing personal, just business. The 14th Guards Regiment, however? They hate you with a passion, and should the rebels seize any of your troops alive, they’ll take delight in making them suffer. You can call that the wages of brutality if you like.”

  “They wouldn’t dare violate the Aldebaran Convention.”

  “In a Wyvern minute, Dagon. What do you think happened to the loyal bureaucrats, landowners and law enforcement types who couldn’t join our withdrawal to Klim Castle?”

  “I don’t remember you objecting to the governor general’s scorched earth policies when we withdrew.”

  The door to Klim’s apartments opened at that moment, but DeCarde, throwing caution to the wind, didn’t bother swallowing her reply.

  “Military targets only, Dagon, remember? We didn’t subscribe to your and her nibs’ interpretation of the order.”

  “I hope you’re not referring to me as ‘her nibs,’ Colonel.”

  “It’s the most flattering term used by my Marines, Countess. You don’t want to hear what else they call you.”

  “Do tell.” There was a slight, but unmistakable slur in her voice, proof of an ethanol-laden breakfast. “An uncouth Marine is hardly news. But so long as they fight, I don’t care. Not everyone has what it takes to join a Guards Regiment.”

  “You mean disregard for common decency, human rights and basic morality? I agree.”

  “Careful, DeCarde,” Verkur growled. “The countess might just decree your battalion is due for a change of command.”

  “Enough!” Klim struck the heavy tabletop with the flat of her hand. “I won’t tolerate any more bickering. We need to find a way out, not ways of doing each other in.”

  DeCarde’s face hardened. “Perhaps we might establish a basis for negotiating our surrender under the Aldebaran Convention if you voluntarily surrendered yourself to the rebels, Countess.”

  “Are you mad? They’d execute me on the public square. If they don’t tear me limb from limb beforehand.”

  “Of course they will. And I’ll cheer them on. But consider that your sacrifice might save many lives. Considering the rebels hoisted the black flag, your death is inevitable. Why not die hoping to save the men and women who fought to protect you and your government?”

  Klim snorted. “Fat lot of good they’ve done me so far. You forget that my value as the empress’ representative is incalculable, especially for loyalist morale.”

  DeCarde bit back a pungent reply. Instead, she said, “I’m merely looking at every option.”

  “That isn’t an option, Colonel and please don’t speak such nonsense again. Find a way to make sure of our final victory instead. The rebels face the combined fighting abilities of a Guards and a Pathfinder unit. They shouldn’t stand a chance.”

  It was an old argument, one DeCarde didn’t intend to rehash. Klim seemed unable to grasp that the 14th Guards weren’t anywhere near as capable as the rebellious 118th Marine Regiment. And by the time her battalion landed on Coraline, the advantage was already heavily weighted against them, not least because of policies that drove most colonists into supporting the revolt.

  But before the Pathfinder could formulate a response that wouldn’t trigger another lengthy, semi-coherent rant from the countess, her earbug came to life. Though only she could hear the transmission, DeCarde was careful to keep her expression neutral, so neither Klim nor Verkur would know the battalion’s command post was calling.

  “Colonel, we just received a reply to our distress call.”

  **

  The rest of the desultory command meeting seemed to drag on forever before Klim released them to achieve that entirely mythical victory she still believed possible. DeCarde kept from fidgeting with impatience, but once out of the conference room, long strides through corridors festooned with ceiling conduits, light globes, and propaganda holograms, took the Marine back to the battalion’s unit lines. As was her habit, she visited a few of the fighting positions along the way, so she could chat with her troopers and get a first-hand look at enemy activity through observation slits cut into the rock.

  Once back in the windowless space Centurion Haller chose for her command post when Countess Klim decreed their withdrawal to the fortress, DeCarde dropped into a field chair by the status board. She looked at Haller with an air of impatience on her angular face.

 
“Talk to me.”

  “By some miracle, the cruiser Vanquish heard our signal. They replied with the encryption protocol we used, stated they were four light minutes from Coraline, and asked for a situation report.”

  “That’s it?”

  Centurion Haller projected the message on the status board.

  “I guess they're cautious,” DeCarde said after scanning the brief missive. “As I would be in their place.” She frowned. “Something is bugging me about the message identifier tags.”

  Major Salmin gave her a grim look. “The Navy is in the habit of putting the initials ISS in front of their ship names. But this one didn’t. We checked for a Vanquish in our database, and she’s a fast attack cruiser attached to the 197th Battle Group, which is assigned to the Shield Sector.”

  “Are you saying her crew joined the rebellion, Piotr?”

  “Could be. However, the 197th wasn’t on the list of formations that switched to Admiral Loren. But our copy is three months out of date, and much will have changed since we lost our subspace radio capability.”

  “Perhaps this Vanquish defected and is now prowling the sector’s outer systems on Loren’s behalf.” DeCarde mentally reviewed her options, then shrugged. “We have nothing to lose by being candid. Let me draft a quick situation report, and we’ll see if that makes them want to help us or the baying mob outside.”

  “Shall we tell the countess and Colonel Verkur?”

  “Under no circumstances! This doesn’t leave the room. It’s bad enough Verkur got wind of my attempt to negotiate with the rebels.”

  “Maybe the Guards somehow tapped into our ground comms,” Haller replied. “I’ll run a trace and make sure the link to Vanquish is clear of unwanted ears before we send your sitrep, sir.”

  — 8 —

  “Fascinating.” Morane indicated the lines of text on his day cabin’s main display when Mikkel joined him. “The 6th Battalion, 21st Pathfinder Regiment, commanded by a Lieutenant Colonel Brigid DeCarde, arrived on Coraline three months ago to help the 14th Guards Regiment crush a rebellion against the Crown led by the 118th Marines. And not coincidentally help protect Governor General the Countess Jessamyn Klim, who happens to be a childhood friend of Empress Dendera.”