Imperial Sunset

by Eric Thomson

  “Captain Morane was convincing,” Gwenneth said. “And the recorded evidence of reiver depredations, as well as that of fratricidal war, are enough to give any sensible person pause, even without a first-hand taste of chaos. However, I would recommend prudence. There are agendas at work that may not coincide with your intentions, or even be contrary to your ongoing welfare.”

  DeCarde repressed an exasperated sigh at yet another cryptic warning by a Void cleric. But she knew better than to ask for clarification.

  “Did you sense something?” Morane asked.

  “I merely observed. Words, intonations, gestures, facial expressions, everything conveys meaning if one knows how to interpret them. Speaker Hecht is a more formidable man than he lets on and could be the true power on Lyonesse, content to let The Honorable Elenia Yakin provide a facade and allow Administrator Logran to care for the minutia of government. You will note the latter said almost nothing.”

  Morane nodded. “Yes, and I also noticed that Hecht’s questions when we discussed the knowledge vault seemed to indicate he was looking at the proposal from the angle of control rather than preservation for the greater good.”

  A bleak smile briefly softened the sister’s ascetic features.

  “Knowledge is power and power leads to wealth. The idea Lyonesse might one day be the sole place where humanity’s learning still exists, uncorrupted by time, certainly appealed to him for less than altruistic motives.”

  DeCarde chuckled. “Nice guy.”

  Gwenneth’s shoulders rose in a dismissive gesture. “Human nature. Altruism is a rare quality. Pure altruism is even less common. Some would dispute its existence. Others will tell you baser human motives are more reliable. And since Rorik Hecht is, by his own admission, the wealthiest self-made businessman on Lyonesse...”

  “At least they’ve agreed to explore the notion,” Morane said. “In the meantime, we shan’t be idle. I’d like to decant the prisoners. If by chance, word gets back to Custis that Tanith was seen passing through Wormhole Arietis Six, I’d rather see her hidden on one of Lyonesse’s moons, in the name of plausible deniability. I’m sure we’ll find enough room here to lodge them until they can be moved out into the community.”

  DeCarde made a dubious face. “Between my Marines and Gwenneth’s colleagues, we’ve used up three-quarters of the available bunk space. That leaves enough for half the prisoners unless we crowd everyone.”

  “My colleagues won’t mind doubling or tripling up, Colonel. Space in Dawn Trader was tight, and we’re used to close communal living.” A faint smile appeared once more. “Something we share with you Marines. Thankfully, the Lannion crèche will take the Palmyran children into its care tomorrow. And we intend to move out as soon as Governor Yakin grants us land. The climate in this region is temperate year-round, so we need not build permanent structures for our new abbey right away.”

  “I’m sure we can raid the depot to equip you. Standard containers are easily converted into building parts.”

  Gwenneth inclined her head. “Thank you.”

  “There’s no point in keeping the depot’s holdings stashed away when we can use them.”

  “You’ll break Lieutenant Grimes’ heart, Captain,” DeCarde said in a droll tone. “Those supply types don’t like parting with their stocks. It’s almost as if they owned the stuff.”

  Morane ignored the jest and turned his eyes on Gwenneth again. “That brings me to the next item of mutual interest, Sister. I didn’t mention Friar Locarno’s special prisoner to the governor, for obvious reasons. But the time has come for you to tell me who that is so I can decide what, if any danger he or she presents for Lyonesse. This place is now, if I need to remind anyone, not only our permanent home but our responsibility to protect.”

  “Fair enough. However, in return, I need your solemn oath you will extend that responsibility, so it covers this person because I fear many here will not wish to do so if they discovered the identity.”

  “You have it.” He placed his right hand over his heart.

  “Among the prisoners, hidden under a false identity, you will find Empress Dendera’s younger sister and former heir designate to the throne, Corinne Ruggero.”

  A shocked silence filled DeCarde’s office. The Marine regained her voice first. “What?”

  “The story, according to Friar Locarno is that Dendera accused Corinne of plotting her overthrow, with the help of people close to the throne.”

  “Was she?”

  Gwenneth shook her head. “Not personally. Corinne has no interest in wearing the crown. However, a faction at court wanted to use her as their figurehead. Dendera ordered the arrest of anyone she suspected but was convinced by the few confidantes she still trusted to order people such as Custis, the chamberlain and other courtiers exiled rather than call for their summary execution. A bloodbath would have likely triggered a revolt within the nobility.

  “Thus it was mercy for everyone. Except when it came to Corinne. As legal heir, she was one heartbeat from the throne. With help from plotters who were still at large, Friar Locarno hid Corinne, gave her a fresh identity and a new look and arranged for her to slip aboard Tanith as a common criminal. Those same plotters ensured Locarno survived Dendera’s purge of the Order’s delegation so he might join Corinne in exile and watch over her. They must also have informed Custis she would travel to Parth on the same ship, but since Locarno kept her cover identity secret, they could not give him a name.”

  “Why did a Friar of the Void get involved in secular matters, especially imperial household politics?”

  Gwenneth’s lips pressed together, the first sign of annoyance Morane had witnessed in their weeks of acquaintanceship. “I can only state the Brethren aboard Dawn Trader found his reasons valid. Please don’t press me for more, Captain. We are forbidden to discuss certain matters with those not of the Order. This is one of them.”

  Morane sat back and exhaled noisily. “Now I understand why Custis didn’t order Tanith destroyed. Perhaps he thought Corinne might still make a perfectly legitimate alternative to Dendera, someone behind whom the rebellious sectors could unite. Of course, it’s probably too late by now. I doubt the Ruggero name carries any meaning other than corruption, rot, and decay.”

  “Corinne would not accept in any case.” Gwenneth fell silent for a moment, choosing her words. “She possesses the attributes we seek in novices postulating as Sisters of the Void and was studying for admission under Friar Locarno.”

  “What attributes are those?” DeCarde asked.

  “Another matter we cannot discuss, I’m afraid. Please take my word when I said Corinne did not wish the Imperial Crown for herself, nor would she ever cooperate with Custis. She very much wants to become one of us, which was the true bone of contention with Dendera and led to the massacre of my brothers and sisters on Wyvern.”

  “As Custis must know, a figurehead need not cooperate, Sister. She merely needs to exist and thereby lend his claim legitimacy. We’re definitely decanting the prisoners so we can rid ourselves of Tanith. As long as that ship is visible to anyone, it remains the grand duke’s lodestone and our liability. He may have abandoned Arietis, but that doesn’t mean his people won’t think of looking here. I was planning to mothball her on one of the moons, but now perhaps the better alternative is destroying her without leaving any traces. Crashing her into the sun, for example, would do nicely.”

  “After we drain her data banks.”

  Morane grinned at DeCarde. “Of course, Colonel. I want our descendants to know about the imperial penal system in all of its glory.” His face took on a serious expression again. “Sister, since Corinne is to join the Order, I suggest we decant her first and hide her among you. I’ve committed to having members of the colonial administration present when we awaken the prisoners so we may assure them we’re not setting common criminals free along with the politicals. And since Corinne is hiding as one of the former, we must do it now, before Chief Administrator Logran appoints
his watchers. Once she’s awake, we’ll list her as deceased during stasis and close her record. That way, no one needs to know Corinne exists.”

  “I agree.” Gwenneth climbed to her feet. “Let me fetch Friar Locarno. Colonel, perhaps we might borrow Adrienne Barca since she has experience with the decanting process and Friar Locarno speaks well of her.”

  “Of course. I’ll ask Adri to meet you in Tanith.” Once Gwenneth was gone, and Barca alerted, DeCarde turned her attention back on a pensive Morane. “Do you think Custis might pursue Tanith to Lyonesse?”

  Morane raised his hands, palms up. “I don’t know. But why take chances? Once Corinne is safely among the Brethren, I’ll make arrangements with Chief Administrator Logran to take the remaining prisoners out of stasis.”

  — 58 —

  Hector Lamert, Lyonesse’s deputy chief of public safety looked up from the tablet Lieutenant Vietti provided and grimaced.

  “Almost nothing but lords and ladies in your stasis pods, Lieutenant. They’ll not find a court where they can idle away their lives on Lyonesse. Governor Yakin’s no fan of the species, even if she is an ‘Honorable’ daughter of a baron.”

  The whipcord thin, mostly bald man looked past Vietti and Adrienne Barca at the stacks and their softly glowing control panels and frowned.

  Vietti made a dismissive hand gesture.

  “Waking here will still be an improvement on Parth, where they expect to be decanted. I’m sure Captain Morane will inform them they won’t be allowed to live off government stipends.”

  Lamert cackled.

  “Stipends? Perish the thought. There’s plenty of work for everyone on Lyonesse. Big planet, small population, right? Those able in mind and body will learn quickly that no work means going hungry. Now, what about the common criminals?”

  Vietti reached over and tapped the tablet in Lamert’s hands. “Forty-eight. There were forty-nine when we took Tanith, but one of the pods malfunctioned during our trip here, and the ship’s AI didn't pick it up. We only found out during a visual inspection after landing and disposed of her body.”

  Lamert made a noncommittal sound.

  “Probably best for her that way.” Vietti and Barca exchanged puzzled glances at the man’s comment while he slowly scrolled through the list. “We can’t let any of the common criminals loose, obviously. If you decant them, they must be kept in your own stockade until we sort out the legalities.”

  “We’re organizing the stockade right now, sir. What legalities do you mean?” Barca asked.

  Lamert squinted up at the tall Marine. “On Lyonesse, those who are found guilty of non-violent crimes deserving relatively short sentences end up in local detention centers. Although they’re actually work camps. Don’t work, go hungry applies to everyone, including criminals. Violent offenders get a chance to clear new settlements in the Windy Isles. Open-air prisons if you like. Some for a few years, some forever. And then there’s the death penalty.” He glanced at the tablet again. “We need to sort out where these stiffs deserve to go. A few of your criminal customers actually seem to qualify for the death penalty, but since our courts didn’t condemn them under our laws, I suppose we’ll take it down a notch and send them to the Windies.”

  “What are they, if I may ask?”

  “You’ve seen a map of Lyonesse, Lieutenant?” Vietti nodded. “The large archipelago in the middle of the World Ocean, right above the equator, is what we call the Windy Isles. The only way there and back is by air. Anyone trying to reach either Tristan or Isolde by sea will die well before coming within sight, thanks to frequent cyclones and aggressive oceanic lifeforms. And since there are no settlements on Isolde as yet, let alone anything other than native species, landing there wouldn’t do much good anyhow.”

  “An effective prison, then.”

  “Not a single successful escape in over sixty years. And let me tell you, those who survive a sentence in the Windies come back thoroughly reformed, ready to do honest work for a living.”

  “What’s the survival rate?” Barca asked.

  “About what you might expect on one of Parth’s exile islands.”

  The Marine winced. “That bad, eh?”

  “Seems the right place for most of your criminals, though.” Lamert gestured toward the nearest stack. “Shall we start the inspection? The chief administrator wants me to confirm identities and how we’ll deal with them before he allows any decanting.”

  **

  Two days later, Morane approached Tanith’s belly ramp with long strides, impatient to see the prison ship leave Lannion Base and vanish forever. Lieutenant Vietti stood in the shadow of the ship’s pockmarked hull, hidden from an early summer sun baking the tarmac, as she waited for his blessing to lift off. She gave him a crisp salute which he returned with equal solemnity.

  “Ready, Peg?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be, sir. A shame we can’t keep her even mothballed on one of the moons, but I suppose since no engineer in this system can figure out a way to disarm the antimatter fuel trap, there’s little choice.”

  “And she’s a reminder of a penal system long on misery and short on compassion.”

  Vietti nodded. “That too. Although I wonder how much compassion the Lyonesse version shows.”

  “Ask me again once this place rounds up dissenters and conscientious objectors, and sends them to live a nasty, brutish and short life.” He nodded at Narwhal’s shuttles lifting off one by one, headed halfway around the planet where the Windy Isles sat in isolation at the center of the World Ocean. “Unlike those charming specimens who earned everything they’re getting, and more.”

  “I hear you, sir. Oh well, mine won’t have been the shortest command in the Imperial Fleet’s history, but its end will certainly be among the more colorful. How long has it been since the Navy scuttled a starship into a sun?”

  “Longer than anyone remembers.” He stuck out his hand. “Enjoy your last few hours.”

  “As prize master, or before I swallow the anchor?” Vietti gave him a smile that was half mischief, half nostalgic.

  “Both, Peg. Everyone will end up dirtside eventually. At least you get to develop new gunnery skills when you take over the planet’s aerospace defense.”

  “As long as you don’t make me ditch Navy blue for Marine Corps green, I’ll survive.”

  “No worries. I’ve decided that the Lyonesse surface to orbit defense company will be a Navy unit, Peg.”

  “Thank the Almighty for that.”

  Morane and Vietti watched the prisoner shuttles climb up into the clear blue sky until they vanished from sight. Then she came to attention. “Permission to lift, sir.”

  “Granted.”

  After a further exchange of salutes, Vietti walked up the ramp while Morane headed for the control room, urged along by the warning siren announcing a starship’s imminent departure.

  A subtle whine blocked out the background noise while almost subliminal vibrations coursed through the cliff side as the prison ship’s thrusters spooled up to full power. Then, without warning, half a dozen incredibly brilliant columns of light appeared beneath her hull and she rose. At first with slow deliberation, then with increasing speed until her aft thrusters kicked in and pushed her on a rising arc toward the edge of space.

  **

  Lieutenant Peg Vietti, soon to be former prize captain of the Imperial Prison Ship Tanith touched the helm control screen one last time and sat back with a sigh. “There. Done.” She turned to the petty officer at the systems console. “Everything still green?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then we’re out of here.” She activated the ship-wide public address system. “All hands to the hangar deck, I repeat all hands to the hangar deck.” Then Vietti nodded at the petty officer. “You too. Let me know when everyone’s aboard the shuttle.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  “Vanquish, this is Tanith.”

  “Vanquish, here.”

  “I’m about to cast loose.
The ship’s AI is programmed, and all systems are green.”

  “We see you and are ready to recover your shuttle. You are cleared to abandon ship.”

  “Tanith confirms.”

  Vietti checked the AI one more time for mistakes, but everything seemed in order. Once the shuttle left Tanith, she would accelerate well beyond safe limits. With no fragile mortals aboard, Tanith’s structural integrity became the sole limiting factor, and like most human-built starships, she was sturdy. Once she reached maximum velocity, it would take her a mere fifteen hours to enter the sun’s corona.

  “Shuttle to Lieutenant Vietti, everyone’s aboard except you.”

  “On my way.”

  After one last look around the bridge that had been hers for so many weeks, Vietti jogged through empty passageways until she reached the open hangar deck door. The shuttle, one of Vanquish’s armed craft, waited for her, aft ramp down, nose pointed at the open space doors where a shimmering energy curtain separated the pressurized compartment from the vacuum outside. She couldn’t see the cruiser against the dense field of stars, but she was there, near enough to see them leave the doomed ship.

  Vietti strode up the ramp, passed the members of her prize crew and dropped into the left-hand seat beside Petty Officer Harkness. “Button her up. It’s time to go home.”

  “What home would that be, sir?” Harkness asked as he pulled up the ramp. “I heard you’re being assigned dirtside.”

  “You heard right. Lannion Base has a full complement of aerospace defense pods capable of covering the town. We found another two dozen stored away in the depot which will be deployed to cover the other major settlements. Captain Morane is forming a unit responsible for them and asked me to become its first commanding officer.”