Imperial Sunset

by Eric Thomson

  A stubborn glint lit up Logran’s eyes, but before he could speak, Yakin raised a hand. “Do it, Lieutenant. See that ground control is linked to this operations center, then prepare. I’m sure Chief Administrator Logran will want to disseminate a final notification, so people know they’re about to lose communications, global positioning and the other niceties of a peaceful, technologically advanced world. Albeit temporarily.”

  Logran gave the governor a sour glance but inclined his head. “As you wish, Madame. If Lieutenant Grimes can hook me into the net, I will take care of warning the colony. Then I’ll ask ground control to connect to this place and hand authority for extra-atmospheric infrastructure over to the Navy. Lieutenant Grimes can do as she thinks fit after that.”

  “Thank you.”

  **

  “We’ll be fine, sir. The chances of something happening to us while we cross this system are negligible. I’m sure Captain Rinne agrees. One more pair of jumps, one more wormhole transit and then it’s Lyonesse. We’re almost home. Go.”

  Morane’s eyes went from Commander Ryzkov to the friar-captain who merely nodded, a serene expression on his weathered brow.

  “Go,” Ryzkov repeated. “Push Vanquish so far past heliosphere FTL limits that the universe will sing. Give her an in-system speed record that won’t be matched until a new empire is born from the ashes of the old. If those reivers exercise caution when they enter the Lyonesse system and decide to loiter while scanning for potential threats, Myrtale might still come out of the terminus on top of them, and she’ll be glad for the help. If her drives fail, then you’re Lyonesse’s last best hope.”

  The buoy left by Sirak near wormhole exit that spat Vanquish and her consorts into the Lyonesse branch’s second sterile system warned Morane the frigate was faltering. Her chief engineer, after inspecting the drives during their wormhole transit, advised they could no longer exceed FTL speed limits without causing damage that might immobilize her entirely. What gains she’d made on the reivers in the Arietis system and ISC668231-2 would be lost crossing ISC683422-2. If not worse.

  The moment he read Sirak’s message, Morane knew there was only one card left to play. He assembled his department heads and linked in the other two starship captains so he could place that card before them. No one demurred. They met Morane’s proposal with squared jaws and determined shoulders.

  “It’s unanimous,” Mikkel said after a moment of silence punctuated Ryzkov’s passionate entreaty. Everyone, even Roman Pavlich, the cruiser’s hard-pressed chief engineer, nodded enthusiastically. “We sail this cruiser as she’s never been sailed before and to hell with safety limits. One last hurrah for Vanquish.”

  “I’ll chase him round Good Hope, and round the Horn, and round the Norway Maelstrom, and round perdition’s flames before I give him up,” DeCarde quoted in a soft voice. Morane gave her a curious glance. “A line from an ancient tale about one man’s pursuit unto death, Captain. I thought it fit the moment.”

  Chief Petty Officer Shaney chuckled. “Or as we say back home, Colonel, yippee-ki-yay, assholes.”

  Morane’s open hands slammed down on the table and a double clap, like gunfire, echoed through the cruiser’s conference room. “We go FTL in five minutes.”

  — 49 —

  Governor Yakin and Major Kayne stepped through the ground floor door and out onto Lannion Base’s tarmac, intent on a few breaths of fresh air after suffering a sleepless, anxiety-filled night. They’d met by chance in the corridor and wordlessly left the rest of Lannion Base’s complement, except for the duty staff, sleep a bit longer.

  Above them, a dense field of stars sparkled against the inky black of space. At its center, the Milky Way, stretching over thirty degrees of sky made for a mesmerizing spectacle, one visible from every human-colonized world. And from deep in the Orion Arm’s badlands, where invaders waited for centuries until the day the empire could no longer protect its star systems. Now they were coming to reap what successive emperors and empresses had sown. Yakin shivered at the thought.

  “Are you cold? Should we go back inside?”

  She turned a sad smile on her militia commander. “It’s not the kind of cold central heating or a thick coat can ward off, Matti.” She nodded up at the sky. “All that beauty hides so much death.”

  “We’ll come through this, Elenia. Three reiver shiploads don’t make an invasion force.”

  “Perhaps, but they can still destroy what they don’t take.”

  “Not on my watch.”

  She laid a soft, long-fingered hand on his arm. “I don’t doubt that you and your soldiers will do their duty in the best of military traditions. But if we escape devastation this time, what happens the next time? Or the time after that? Who will warn us if the Navy withdrew from Arietis?”

  “I don’t know. However, we can work to harden Lyonesse, make her into something so tough future marauders will look elsewhere for profit. Become one of those creatures covered in poisonous spines no one dares touch.”

  “Marine Corps doctrine again?”

  A gentle grin softened his grim features. “Matti Kayne’s doctrine. And perhaps you can convince this Morane fellow to give us a hand when he shows up. If he’s willing to chase reivers into the Lyonesse branch when he could just as well go on his way with the rest of the damned Navy, he might be amenable.”

  They reached one of the silent, hulking aerospace defense pods and turned to walk back.

  “We should know soon enough. Our last night of innocent peace seems to be over.” A faint band of light on the eastern horizon heralded the approach of dawn. As it grew before their eyes, the distant clouds took on a red tinge so intense it seemed the sky was bleeding. “Does this new day mark a permanent break with the past and herald the start of a new, dark and dangerous era? A future of barbarian raids, of pillage, plunder, and destruction?”

  Yakin’s hand tightened around Kayne’s arm, and he placed his own hand on top of it.

  “Best not to borrow trouble ahead of time, Elenia. Even if they come through the wormhole today, they’ll not reach Lyonesse until tomorrow.”

  “But they’ll arrive eventually.”

  “Perhaps. If that’s our fate. Which may or may not be foretold. But whatever that fate is we must still live through it. The Almighty doesn’t allow shortcuts.”

  A warm chuckle escaped her throat. “Military doctrine and religious philosophy in almost the same breath. Why were you only a command sergeant in the Marine Corps while an idiot like my cheating, lying, social climbing husband, who wouldn’t know deep thoughts from soiled toilet paper, is an Imperial Guards general dancing attendance at court?”

  “I suppose I was lucky.”

  Her throaty laughter echoed faintly against the cliffside. “And having you here instead of him, on this day of all days, means I’m lucky too.”

  “We’ll see about luck later.”

  “Isn’t it said that faith can stop even the greatest of evils?”

  “It’s also said that the Void giveth and the Void taketh away.”

  A warm gust of air from the Middle Sea, carrying the faint but unmistakable tang of salt water, washed over Lannion Base as the sky lightened and the lower atmosphere stirred to life.

  “When this is over, I’d like to spend a day at the beach.”

  Kayne squeezed her hand. “That’s the spirit, Your Excellency.” Then he released it.

  Using her title signaled the end of their brief intimacy, and she withdrew hers.

  “Tea?” The former Marine asked. “The samovar in my office should be ready. I set it before heading out.”

  “Certainly.”

  “They will serve breakfast in the base mess hall at seven. It won’t be up to Government House standards, but tasty nonetheless.”

  They walked up to the regimental office suite where Kayne ushered her into the one he’d taken after temporarily giving up the commanding officer’s space to his commander-in-chief.

  Cup in hand, they to
ok chairs around a bare field desk, one no different from those in use elsewhere on Lannion Base. Neither spoke, preferring to let their thoughts wander, eyes staring through the narrow window as night slowly gave way to another sunrise.

  Storm clouds were gathering over the Middle Sea. Prominent, gray and towering, their undersides painted the same blood red as those on the eastern horizon. Yakin repressed an involuntary shiver, telling herself there were no such things as omens.

  The chirp of Kayne’s communicator startled both from their silent contemplation, and Kayne sat up with a jerk, almost spilling tea over his battledress.

  “Yes?”

  “Lannion Base Control, sir. The wormhole traffic control buoy reports three sloop-sized ships of unknown type and provenance exiting the terminus. None of them are broadcasting on subspace bands. The only thing we can tell is they’re definitely not Navy.”

  “Order the buoy and relay to go dormant. I’m on my way.”

  Yakin’s face tightened. “The enemy is finally at our gates. So much for Gus’ fervent wish it was a hoax. Shame we won’t know when Morane’s ships will show up. Or if. How long do you think before they’re in orbit?”

  Morane drained the last of his tepid tea and stood with weary resignation. “Based on Hetty Grimes’ best guess, if they don’t loiter they could reach the Lyonesse hyperlimit this evening, about twelve hours from now. From there, they might reach us before dawn tomorrow.”

  **

  Myrtale dropped out of FTL a hundred thousand kilometers short of the final wormhole terminus before the Lyonesse system, but the force of the transition nausea told Sirak something was very wrong with his ship’s hyperdrives. They’d been unable to reach even twice the speed of light during their jumps across the system without triggering every alarm in engineering, but this felt more serious.

  He was reaching for the screen embedded in his command chair when the intercom went off. “Chief engineer to the captain.”

  “Yes, Collin.

  “You felt her shudder when we came out of FTL?’

  “I shuddered quite a bit.”

  “Same thing, Captain. The drives aren’t done for yet, but almost. Without a few weeks in dry-dock, we can do a few more short jumps if we stick to one and a half times cee within the heliosphere, but that’s it. And with the drives gone, the captain can reclassify Myrtale as a monitor and stick her into orbit around Lyonesse.”

  Sirak repressed a sigh of annoyance. So close and yet it might still be insufficient. “Can we make a safe wormhole transit?”

  “Aye. No question, though it could be our last.”

  “Helena, please prepare another buoy for Vanquish. Let them know about our status.”

  A mischievous smile crept across Lieutenant Helena Lee’s taut features. “Crippled, clobbered and crawling?”

  “Something like that, but make sure they understand the condition isn’t due to our cleaning out the ship’s alcohol stores while in FTL. It may not do much good, but at least the captain will know he could be on his own in the Lyonesse system.”

  “If it’s any consolation,” Collin Partlow said, “we wouldn’t have lasted much longer even without the battle damage we took before entering the Cervantes system, back when we still worked for her Imperial Majesty and not Jonas Morane’s ideals. Myrtale is older than I am, and that’s a condition beyond even the best starship engineers.”

  A tired silence enveloped the frigate’s bridge. Sirak wasn’t the only one wearing a crestfallen expression. But the moment proved short-lived.

  “Subspace message from Narwhal, sir. They’re transmitting on spec, in case we’re listening. Because of our growing engine problems, Vanquish left Narwhal and Dawn Trader after transiting into this system and is currently doing what we’ve done - pushing as far past twice cee as she can without destroying her drives. We’re to continue commensurate with the safety of the crew.”

  Sirak exhaled noisily. “At least that’s something. Vanquish might be almost double our size, but she’s newer and has suffered no damage. Take it as a lesson, folks. Always let the boss know about everything, especially problems, so he can find other ways of getting the mission done. Now let’s push across that damned event horizon and see if we can’t finish the job before that flashy cruiser robs us of our kill marks.”

  **

  Kayne turned around when he heard the sound of feet by the operations room’s doors. A grim-faced Gus Logran stood on the threshold, as if unsure of his welcome.

  “Her Excellency told me three unidentified ships came through the wormhole in the last hour.”

  “That’s what the traffic control buoy reported. They’re the right size and shape for reivers, and Lieutenant Grimes assures me their power emissions are much too high for honest starships. We won’t find out more until they drop out of FTL at the hyperlimit, which could be any time after sundown tonight, depending on how long they loiter by the wormhole. And we won’t know because as soon as the buoy reported, it and the subspace relay went dormant, per their programming. Hopefully, they’ll still be there when this is over.” Kayne waved Logran in and gestured toward an unoccupied workstation.

  “Please sit.”

  Logran almost stumbled as he made for the chair, then dropped into it like a deflated balloon. “When?” His voice sounded like a frog’s croak.

  “When will they arrive? Lieutenant Grimes figures between midnight and dawn tomorrow.”

  “And there’s no chance they might be friendly?”

  Kayne’s smile was as thin as a miser’s charity. “There’s always a chance, Chief Administrator. But plausible does not mean probable. When is the last time we saw two ships travel through that wormhole simultaneously, let alone three? Unless they’re in convoy, I’ve never seen merchantmen travel in packs. Reivers on the other hand...”

  Logran seemed to regain control of his emotions. “I suppose I owe you an apology, Major.”

  “Of course not. You were perfectly within your rights to question the veracity of Morane’s message and our assumptions. You may have heard the expression, ‘if everyone is thinking alike, then somebody isn’t thinking.’ I’m sure the governor would like you to keep on thinking even if your conclusions clash with mine or anyone else’s. Heck, Gus, we’ve known each other for years. Too long to apologize for being who we are and doing our jobs as we think best.”

  A sound like that of an angry bull’s snort escaped Logran’s full nose. “Don’t think this gives you bragging rights, Matti. At least not until you’ve seen the buggers off with a kick in the pants. Preferably a nuclear-tipped kick.”

  “That depends on how many of them lift off once we’ve kicked them in the pants.”

  “You still intend to go with the ambush option?” Logran raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. “Not that I’m questioning your military decisions.”

  “Now we’ve confirmed they’re sloop-sized and capable of landing on a standard gee planet with an atmosphere, I’ll place my bets on at least two of them coming down. If we convince them we’re unaware, unprepared and helpless. The alternative is a bombardment from orbit to soften us up.”

  “Won’t they do that to Lannion Base anyway? Because of your aerospace defense pods?”

  “Which won’t show up on their scans because they’re dormant. Nor will they see them on visual. Chameleon coating. Effective against any optical sensor at more than a few meters distant, and any human eye at more than a hundred meters.”

  Logran was silent for a few moments. Then, “I’m glad you sound confident, Matti. Because I sure as hell don’t feel confident.”

  — 50 —

  “Myrtale left us another message buoy.” A pause, then the signals petty officer said, “The transcript is on the port side display.”

  Morane read Sirak’s message and winced. “At least they haven’t lost their sense of humor. Crippled, clobbered and crawling. She won’t be able to rise above one and a half cee crossing a star system without time in dry-dock. Nate
suggests we turn her into a monitor and put her in Lyonesse orbit once we remove any invasive species and become farmers. At least he didn’t word it in the more macabre way.”

  “You mean he didn’t say once we buy the farm?” DeCarde asked in a droll tone. Morane, Creswell and everyone else in the CIC turned to give her the stink eye. She raised her hands. “Okay, okay. Terrible joke, but I figured if Myrtale can crack wise about falling apart...”

  “The good news is, we’re only six hours behind her,” Morane said. “She’s not out of the wormhole yet.”

  “And we’re about six jumps away from needing the same tender loving dry-dock care.” Mikkel’s ever-present hologram smirked. “Be glad Roman is cussing at me about the treatment we gave his precious drives and not you, Skipper.”

  “But even he has to admit we broke Fleet records, Iona.”

  “Oh, Vanquish made the universe sing all right. Except it wasn’t the universe singing but her hull integrity screaming. There’s a reason we shouldn’t try interstellar speeds within a star system. Offer Roman a cup of tea and an hour of your time once we’re inside the wormhole. He needs to unburden himself, and I’ve done my part.”

  “So long as we can break the rules one last time after this transit.”

  “Roman says we’re good for a final try at improving the record.”

  “That’s what I wanted to know. Now take us over that event horizon.”

  **

  “I’m not picking up any starship traffic,” Myrtale’s sensor chief said once he completed his first scan of the Lyonesse system. “But with time lag, they could be at the hyperlimit already. Or close to coming out of FTL at any rate.”

  “Let’s hope they went FTL not long before we arrived after loitering a bit.” Sirak turned to the signals station. “Anything?”

  “No subspace carrier wave. I can’t find the wormhole traffic control buoy or system relay, and none of the orbital platforms are broadcasting. It’s like Lyonesse is under radio silence.”