Relic of Empire

by W. Michael Gear

  Comm beeped, and Mayz’s face formed, worry on her angular features. “Sink? Sorry to bother you. Listen, I’ve got a Division First on the comm. Dion Axel ... from the meeting. You know anything about her?”

  Sinklar cleared his confused thoughts. “Yeah, Division First for the Nineteenth Regan Assault Division. Didn’t you get the memo on that?”

  “Memo?” She raised an eyebrow.

  Sinklar sighed and tugged absently on his knobby nose. More screwups in communication. “Guess not, huh? All right, listen. I talked to her after the command meeting. I want your Fourth Targan and the Nineteenth Regan engaged in war games ASAP.”

  “Just war games?” Mayz screwed up her face. “What for? We’ll wax her ass all over the floor!” Sinklar nodded. “That’s the idea. Listen, Axel strikes me as an open-minded sort even if she’s from the old aristocracy. She was the youngest daughter of a not-so-well-to-do family. She’s a student of tactics, one of the best. We’ve got to start somewhere, and having the Fourth Targan cut up her Division is it. I want the whole thing documented, right down to the Group battle coffims. They’re going to be studying this for years. It’s important.”

  “So why not use Mac’s First Targan? They’re better than my Division. Or Kap’s Second, for that matter.” “Because the Forth Targan is the old Twenty-seventh Maikan Assault Division that Henck made such a big thing of. I want old veterans seeing how they got beat-and telling everyone else about it.”

  Mayz pursed her lips. “Taking quite a gamble, aren’t you?”

  “Got a better idea? You yourself said you could wax them. Or do you want me to give this to Ayms, and the Third?” Mayz stiffened. “When do we do this?” “Tomorrow morning. Shik is running down LCs and transport. Use the Tarcee Estate for the games. Axel goes in first and sets up her defenses. Her objective is to hold the estate. Yours is to take it. “

  “Affirmative.” She gave him a predatory smile. “You know, a lot of Henck’s people are still smarting after the way they got trounced in Kaspa. They’re spoiling to fix bruised pride.”

  “Training lasers only,” Sinklar reminded. “Charred armor means a hit.”

  Mayz gave him a wink. “You got it. Are you going to be there for observation?”

  “If I can get away. “ He slapped his hands to his sides. “And that gets more and more tenuous.”

  “If not, we’ll let you know how it goes.”

  “Did you get the memo on the Command Reorganization? I want the lineup as follows: Me, Mac, you, Shik, Kap, Ayms. If anything happens, I don’t want paralysis like we saw the Regulars go through on Targa.”

  “Affirmative. Yes, we got the memo on that. Everyone knows, and I haven’t heard any bitching about it.”

  “I didn’t think there would be. You might let people know that I had to make up some sort of order. I don’t want someone like Ayms thinking I was-“

  “We know, Sink. Relax. We’ve been a team for too long.”

  “Thanks, Mayz. That’s it unless you have something else on your mind.”

  “Negative. Mayz out.”

  Sinklar puffed out his cheeks, looking around the cabin. With resignation, he grabbed hiswar bag from the loops at the foot of the bed and packed his few things. Zipping the bag closed, he went to comm. “Connect me with LC One. Mhitshul?”

  The monitor wavered to life, Mhitshul’s concerned face staring out. “Yes, sir?”

  “I’m transferring all the data in Gyton’s comm to the LC. I’ll be aboard in about an hour. After that, we’ll be dropping to the planet.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll monitor the data transfer. Anything else, sir?”

  “No. See you when I get there.” He flicked the comm keys to transfer the data and shut the system down when it signaled completion. Grabbing up his bag, Sinklar slapped the hatch and headed for the Commander’s conference room.

  He arrived to find Mac and Rysta already there. The place consisted of a sickly-green painted room, a central table with c’omms along one wall, and spartan fixtures. Rysta stabbed a button with a gnarled finger and a chair rose out of the floor.

  Sinklar lowered himself and braced his elbows on the table. “Good to see you, Commander. Thank you for your support this morning.”

  “Maybe,” Rysta muttered. “You heard about Bryn Hack? Found dead in his quarters. Somebody broke his neck, but before they did that, they kicked’his balls so hard they blew them right out of the scrotum and tore his penis half off . I don’t have a squeamish stomach, and I don’t know all there is to know about Commander Hack, but whatever he did, he didn’t deserve that kind of treatment.”

  Sinklar could feel Mac’s eyes boring into infinity. “No. He didn’t. He seemed like a decent human being.”

  “Damn right, he was!” Rysta thumped the table with a hard fist. “And I know where the blame lies for his death. I think you do, too, Lord Fist.”

  “One war at a time, Rysta.” Sinklar raised a hand to calm her. “Justice will have to be tackled very carefully, and I think you’re clever enough to know what I mean. We won’t forget; but in the meantime, we’ve got to balance on the knife’s edge and remember the realities of who controls what. Which brings me to the next topic. “

  “Rotted right,” Rysta asserted. “What’s going on around here? Gyton’s being refitted and resupplied. Mac, here, is spouting some Terguzzi sumpshit about rioting miners. Fist, I’m no blushing virgin when it comes to ships. We’re outfitting for deep space. And I know a pus-dripping lie when I hear one.”

  Sinklar steepled his fingers. “Mac will give you the destination as soon as you’ve spaced for Terguz.” Mac sat silently, hands flat on the,table, expression neutral as he looked at Sinklar. “Any thoughts about that problem we talked about earlier?”

  “Some. You’ll find them on your comm, sealed and restricted by time delay access. If anything else-“ “Rotted Gods,” Rysta whispered, dropping her voice. “We’re hitting the Sassans, aren’t we? We’re dropping in, racing down their accursed throats, and trying to take out one of their planets! That’s why the fission torpedoes were being loaded.”

  Sinklar considered her for a moment before nodding. “Yes, Commander, you’re hitting the Sassans. It’s a desperate gamble to buy us time to refit and retrain. They’ve got a strike force assembling and I want to take it out before they can use it against us and kill one of our worlds. That’s the gamble.”

  Rysta asked the natural questions. “How many ships are rendezvousing, with us? Who’s in command?”

  “I am,” Mac said quietly. “Gyton is the only ship. We’re going in to take out those Sassan assault ships. They won’t expect. a single vessel-and certainly not Gyton this soon after the Targan affair.”

  Rysta leaned back, rubbing a hand over her wrinkled face. “One ship? Against a Sassan military base? Only a certified double-Rotted idiot would attempt it.”

  “That’s exactly what we’re hoping the Sassans believe,” Sinklar said, glancing uneasily at Mac. “Outside of the fact that it will never work-and you’re doing it with my ship-what’s the problem?” Rysta looked from one man to the other.

  “Getting out alive,” Mac said dryly. He spread his hands in appeal. “Since Rysta’s figured it all out, you want to just tell me now? Once we get in and shoot everything up, how do we get out alive?”

  Sinklar pushed back, staring at some invisible spot between his knees. “There will be a lot of confusion. Gyton might be able to break out and race like hell to build mass for null singularity. Surprise might make all the difference.”

  “And if it doesn’t?” Rysta demanded, leaning forward.

  Sinklar ground his teeth, jaw tensed. “Then the best I can come up with is to ditch Gyton, blow her up on remote ... and surrender. “

  “Surrender!” Mac bellowed. “Have you lost your mind?”

  Sinklar shook his head slowly. “No. You’ll only be in captivity for about a year. That’s how long I’ll need to take the Sassan Empire. In the meantime, I’ll be in tou
ch with the Sassan high command. They’ll be painfully aware that the fate of their officials will depend on the fair treatment of their war prisoners.” Mac simply stared. Rysta blinked and shook her head. “Fist, you can’t be serious about this.”

  Sinklar clamped his jaw., “Commander, I don’t like it, but my back is to the wall. It’s either this, or try and catch them in the next three months when they strike a Regan world. Think, Rysta. I’ve got thirty Commanders out there who feel the same way about me as you do. In three months at least twenty-five Sassan warships are going to make a preemptive strike on a Regan world.”

  He gave her a pleading look. “What are my chances of creating a working command in that time? What are the odds that, if I can get those people to function together, I can stop all twenty-five of those Sassan ships---even if we know the target in advance. Which we probably won’t. If just one of those Sassan warships can get through, how many people will they kill? If they split their forces, and we only stop one group, how much damage could eight of those cruisers do to a world like Riparious? Vermilion? Sylene?

  “And what about the consequences-the fallout after the raid? How are the people across the Empire going to react, knowing that a world was killed? We’ll have chaos and panic. On top of that, we’re going to have to dedicate resources to rescuing and treating any survivors. Every world and station out there is going to demand military protection, or they’ll panic and revolt. How far can we stretch ourselves before we no longer offer a viable defense? Worse than that, how would we ever gain the offensive?”

  Sinklar turned desperately to Mac. “I have to balance the risk of losing you against the risk of losing billions ... and perhaps the entire Empire.”

  Rysta gave no hint of her reaction. Her baleful black eyes never wavered. Finally, she said tonelessly, “You’re right, of course. If we can take them out, we’ll do it. I’m ready to space as soon as we’re resupplied. “

  Sinklar returned his attention to Mac, who stared sightlessly at the tabletop. “If Rysta’s willing to take command, I could use you here.” Damn it, Mac, here’s an out if you want it.

  The corners of MacRuder’s lips twitched. “Rysta’s a superb Commander, but I think I’d better be around for the capture of that Sassan freighter. I’ve already picked the Section I want to use. They’ll need me there if something goes wrong.” Mac looked at him with the eyes of a dead man. “I learned from the best, Sink. I might have to make it up as I go. “

  Sinklar’s heart weighed like a lump of lead in his chest. “Then I’ll leave it to you to figure your own way out, Mac.” This is just like Makarta’ and Mac knows it. “I won’t let you down. If the worst comes true, I’ll be coming for you.”

  Mac gave him a brave smile. “I know that, Sink. I really do.” He stood up, offering his hand. “And now, if you’ll excuse us, I’ll go over the entire plan with Rysta. Maybe she’ll see something we’ve missed.”

  Sinklar stood, shaking Mac’s hand, then hugging him desperately. “If I had any other choice, Mac-“ “But you don’t. Now, get down to your LC before Mhitshul has a conniption fit.”

  Sinklar nodded, lowered his eyes, and walked away, grabbing up his war bag at the hatch. He looked back, caught Mac’s crooked smile, and stepped out into the corridor.

  Like a man in a dream, he walked down to the LC bay where Mhitshul stood waiting. Around him, people swarmed, creating a veritable cacophony of sound as they shouted back and forth and banged crates and hatches. Hydraulics whined and the air had a chilly nip that barely cut the odor of oil and paint.

  Mhitshul took Sinklar’s war bag, noting his expression. “Where to, sir?”

  Sinklar climbed the assault ramp, slapping the controls behind him. The heavy steel groaned as it closed and sealed, cutting out the banging and clattering

  beyond.

  “Where to?” Mhitshul repeated.

  Sinklar looked up, Mac’s knowing eyes haunting his thoughts. Mac, damn it, I didn’t have any choice ... any choice ... any....

  “Sir?” Mhitshul insisted.

  Sinklar stepped through into the LC’s command center and slumped on the bench. “Damned if I know, Mhitshul. Just tell the pilot to take us down and land us somewhere. I need time to think.”

  “The problem of God has occupied humanity for as long as we have had written records. Over a thousand years ago, Myklenian mystics could place themselves in a state o trance and bathe themselves in glowing coals, or run daggers through their flesh without wounding themselves. This state of mystical consciousness hinged on the belief that the physical world consisted of illusion. Reading their texts, they claim to have experienced Godhead.

  “For centuries, the Seddi have studied the question of God. One of the everlasting problems that perplexes scholars is the proof of God’s existence. Through the recorded ages, some have looked to miracles, others to Divine revelation. The ways and nature of God have always been the study of the obscure, the mystical, and the hidden.

  “The question is begged, then, why does God hide Itself? Is it rational to believe that a Deity who created such an ordered universe would play silly games with its creations? What purpose would lie behind such a scheme?

  “The Seddi assume that such notions are based on a flawed epistemology. Instead we see all of Creation as God’s reflection. We accept that by investigating the very nature of the universe, we see God’s imprint all around us. By discovering the laws of physics, we obsIerve the will of God.

  “To the insecure, a statement such as this reeks of loathsome heresy, and in response the question is begged: why should we expect a beneficent champion in God? Must we bind Deity in chains and demand preferential treatment simply because we have faith? Are we so immature that we can’t stand on our own without a friendly paternal pat on the head from our God? Must we insist that God impose silly rules of diet and subservience? And worse, emotions such as jealousy, wrath, and vanity?

  “In the end, isn’t all of this the result of human hubris? Or worse, self-delusion as we seek a rosy and comforting fantasy to calm our fears?

  “In studying the universe, we find humanity to be but an insignificant part of the whole. The vastness of space outside the Forbidden Borders is beyond our comprehension, in the same manner that we can only estimate subatomic particles through mathematical means.

  “The Seddi do not claim to have ultimate truth—and given the limitations of human perception and intellect, we may never discover the entirety of ultimate realitybut we believe we have a more flexible epistemology, one that allows changes to the paradigm as we learn more about the nature of creation, and perhaps a fuller impression of God’s nature.”

  Excerpt from Kaylla Dawn’s Itreatic broadcasts

  CHAPTER 11

  Kaylla Dawn hunched in a gravity chair, callused fingers tapping idly on the ceramic surface of her desk. The comm monitor before her glowed, lines of text shifting as she read the report. She worked in her private quarters, a room set off from the main complex of Itreata. On the far wall, holographic scenes of star fields gave the impression of endless distance and alleviated Kaylla’s knowledge that she lived half a kilometer under solid rock.

  She straightened and rubbed her throat as if the action would stimulate the blood flow to her tired brain. So much to do. The entire Seddi network lay in shambles. Details, from complex to simple, had once been coordinated by the Mag Comm, the giant alien computer that lay buried in the rubble of Makarta. Now, Kaylla and her staff scrambled to rebuild the organization and the coordination of an interstellar secret order. It wouldn’t be accomplished overnight, or without frustration, failure, and possibly blood, for neither the Regan nor Sassan Empires had any love for the Seddi.

  Kaylla stopped the text and closed her tan eyes as a prickling sensation ran through her limbs-the effects of the drug she’d been given to renew her body tissues. A Companion medical technician had conducted a series of tests, and tailored a prescription to slow the aging process and initiate the repair of
damaged DNA. The side effects consisted of itching, sudden sweats and chills, and the constant feeling of a full bladder.

  Nor did the brain remain exempt. Since the beginning of her treatment, Kaylla’s dreams had been overpowering, vivid to the point of being too real. Each night as she collapsed from exhaustion, she knew the nightmare of her life would replay.

  She’d live again as a Seddi novitiate, marry her husband, and move to Maika where she served as First Lady and began to initiate a Seddi paradise of universal human freedoms, education, and enlightenment. One by one, she bore her children yet again, reveling in the miracle of new life, and love, and hope. Golden days of love and nights of passion flew through her dreams-until that day the Companions crushed the Maikan defense.

  Unbidden, Kaylla began to blink back shining tears. She opened her eyes, shaking her head to rid herself of the image. The report waited before her, another of the onerous duties she’d inherited from Bruen when he placed her in charge of the Order.

  Kaylla took a deep breath and dialed the gravity chair down before getting to her feet and walking over to the room dispenser. She stabbed the stassa button and watched dully as the drinking bulb filled.

  The Lord Commander’s stassa. Kaylla stared into the dark steaming liquid, memories of that fateful day on Maika twisting in her mind. She lived it again as Staffa’s troops stormed the palace, shooting, maiming, discharging weapons bursting human flesh into bloodmisty meat. Kaylla’s maid had boldly insisted that she was the First Lady, stepping out from the huddle of captives.

  Why didn’t I step forward that day? What motivated me to cower with the rest of the servants as Staffa’s men pulled my husband ... my children....

  Kaylla closed her eyes, hearing the pleas of her husband and the bawling of her children. Before them, Staffa. kar Therma-a hazy image in gray-paced up, back to her as the swirling cape hid him. The terrified chatter of the servants masked his orders.

  She would relive that moment forever as one of the Companions ripped her from the arms of the servants who held her and threw her on the ground. Stunned, she’d been unable to tear her gaze from the sight of her family lined against the wall.