Relic of Empire

by W. Michael Gear

  Ily’s fists had knotted, tendons standing from the back of her hands.

  “You see,” Magister Dawn continued, “each and every one of you is at risk. Look to your skies, people. How safe are you? Hasn’t the time come to reevaluate the way we think about ourselves?”

  Ily stabbed the button that killed the connection, and fumed as a devouring anger possessed her. I will kill you for this, Kaylla Dawn. And, Staffa, you just wait until I get my hands on Skyla Lyma.

  Than Jakre was roused from a sound sleep by his aide. Rubbing his eyes, he turned his attention to the main monitor in his palatial bedroom-and bolted upright.

  Jakre had never seen Kaylla Dawn before, and as her broadcast continued, he wished he was not seeing her now. For a brief moment, he sat stunned.

  “Rotted Gods!” He swallowed hard, heart racing. To his aide, he asked, “Where’s this coming from? Who’s doing this? I want it stopped now!”

  His aide-and sometime lover-a slim youth with golden hair, shook his head as he looked up from the desk comm he’d slid behind. “It’s from Itreata, Iban. The entire Companion system must be powering it., If you want to stop it, you’ll have to do it at the sourcein Itreata.”

  Jakre’s mouth had gone dry. “Then it’s all over the Empire?” He winced. “We’ll have to divert more resources, enough to keep the population in line.” He groaned and rubbed his high brow. “Of all the miserable timing, why did this have to happen now?”

  “Is it true, what she’s saying?”

  Than scowled. “Of course, you idiot! Why do you think it’s so cursed important that we hit the Regans first? If we can do as she says, blast their planets, they’ll collapse! How else do you think we can win?” “And the Regans?”

  Than narrowed his eyes to slits. “Pus Rot the Regans. If every Regan world were dead, what difference would it make to us-so long as we can keep -them from killing our worlds first?”

  The aide swallowed hard, nodding. “I see, sir.” Jakre stood, pulling a robe around his rotund belly. “Get me His Holiness-and that simpering fool, Roma, too. We’ve got to start some damage control, or the whole empire will fall apart. Well, don’t just sit there gawking, you fool! Do it! Our entire way of life depends on it! We’ve got to think up some lies to keep the people pacified!”

  Sinklar sipped a cold cup of stassa, the muscles in his back knotting painfully as he watched his monitors. For two days now, the Second, Third, and Fourth Targans had battled and worn away at the Regulars,

  as they’d come to be called. Meter by meter, they ground up the defenses. For the first time, a ray of hope shone within Sinklar’s soul. He might be creating his army after all.

  “Lord Fist?” Dion Axel asked through the battle COMM.

  “Here.” “I’d like to try something,” Axel’s voice sounded like broken glass-yet she hung on, the last of the original Regan commanders. “I’d like to make a feint at Mayz’s entrenchments on the side of the ravine. At the same time,

  I want to hit the orchard with enfilading four-man guns. If she’s smart, she’ll think we’re going to try and drive a salient up the ravine and she’ll shift her reserves to back up those positions. In the meantime, I think I can make a successful push with the Fourth and Fifth Sections through the southern woods and into the grain fields.”

  Sinklar nodded to himself. “Excellent evaluation of the situation, Axel. Give it a try. If you catch Mayz off balance and break her lines, I’ll call you the winner and we’ll all get some sleep.”

  Sleep? How many days had he been here? The first two nights of the exercises, he’d been able to sneak away to Ily’s. There, he’d eaten and they’d made love until he’d fallen fast asleep. She’d prodded him awake before dawn to return to Tarcee. The third day, he’d been unable to leave since the Regulars had begun to catch on. Night after night had followed with him catching catnaps and awakening to guide the exercises.

  He’d been vaguely aware of the Seddi broadcasts and the uproar that followed. Hints of their subversion had begun to creep through the Divisions, but for the moment, no one had time to deal with them seriously.

  The Ninth Vermilion, once First Lute’s pride, then temporarily commanded by Horn, now belonged to an ex-Section First, called Magada. DeGamba’s Second Ashtan now belonged to a petite dark-skinned woman, Myra Ties, who had been a Corporal First in charge of a Group. Axel had been demoted twice and worked her way back up in the ranks after experiencing exercises with Second Section of the Second Targan. She’d learned, asked for another crack at command, and made it back to the top.

  Sinklar watched as Axel initiated her attack, the master computer figuring the combat factors of Axel’s bombardment and movement.

  To Sinklar’s surprise, Mayz fell for the bait. Axel allowed her feint to sink in, and upon learning of Mayz’s reinforcement, she struck Mayz’s southern flank. Within half an hour, Dion had her salient.

  “All right,” Sinklar broke into the system. “Let’s call it over, people. Provisional victory is granted to First Axel and the Nineteenth Regan.”

  A chorus of whoops and cheers turned the comm transmission into a din. Sinklar had to wait for nearly five minutes until it subsided. Then he ordered: “People, there will be a twenty-four hour reprieve. Get some rest and relax. Tomorrow the Seventh Regan, the Twelfth Etarian, and the Fifteenth Etarian will land in the Imperial woodlands east of here. The Seventh Sylenian, the Fifth Ashtan and the Sixth Vermilion will be landing and deploying in the estate country to the south. Your divisions will be assigned to one or another of those deployments. Beginning at 10:00 hours the day after tomorrow, the following exercise will begin: Army South will mobilize and attempt to take Army East. The objective will be the control of the Imperial woodlands. Any questions?”

  Mayz, sounding disgruntled, asked, “How will we know which army our Division has been assigned to?” “It will be on the comm at 12:00 hours tomorrow. You can redeploy at your leisure.”

  Kap asked, “Will we have any problems like we did with Lute and DeGamba? I mean, do these guys know who’s in charge?”

  Sinklar scratched his oily hair. “We’ll find out in the morning briefing at 08:00. 1 think word has gotten out that the Command Code is still in effect-no matter who is in charge. Problems will be dealt with in the same manner as before.”

  “I’ll talk to them,” Axel offered.

  Sinklar smiled wearily. “We all appreciate it, Dion. Any other questions? No? Go get some sleep, people. It won’t get any easier.”

  Sinklar shut down his comm and leaned back, arms hanging limply over the back of his chair. He looked up and discovered Mhitshul watching him. The mother look was in his aide’s tired brown gaze.

  “Ready for a good night’s sleep, sir?”

  “Do I detect another meaning to that question?” “No, sir. “ But the way he said it, said it all. Sinklar rubbed his eyes, and swiveled his chair, adding, “Minister Takka should have given the pilot the address of my apartment. Take me home. I’m going to step into the shower and stand there until I wilt.”

  Mhitshul nodded and bent to holler orders up to the pilot. The LC began to whine as it powered up and closed the assault ramp. As the vehicle lifted, Mhitshul reappeared, his face uncharacteristically stiff. “Will you be expecting company, sir?”

  Sinklar shook his head. “No. Not tonight. I’m going to sleep until 11:00 tomorrow, Mhitshul.” He paused. “Listen. You don’t like the Minister. I can understand that. But maybe she’s not as bad as you think, hmm?”

  Mhitshul’s lips worked as if he had something sour in his mouth. “Permission to speak, sir?”

  “Cut the crap. Of course you can speak. When did that change?”

  Mhitshul looked as if something were eating him alive. “Well, we’ve been through a lot together. I just want you to know, sir, that I think you ought to be very careful. Ily is working you ... playing you. She’s got you in her bed and that’s your business, but she’s a dangerous woman, and…”

 
; “Finish it. “

  Mhitshul shifted from one foot to the other. “Well, sir, you can bed who you will. But she’s insidious, and cunning, a pro at what she does. Just now, she’s using sex like you’ve never had it before. Next thing you know, she’ll use something else to bind you even more securely. She’ll work at you bit by bit until you forget who you are. You can be her lover, but, sir, on account of all of us who trust you, don’t end up as her possession. “

  Sinklar steepled his fingers, anger brewing. “And do you think I would? After what we went through on Targa? Do you think I’m losing sight of the dream we all share?”

  Mhitshul gave him a sober appraisal. “Not yet, sir. But I checked with the pilot. You do know where your ‘apartment’ is, don’t you, sir?”

  Sinklar studied his aide closely. “Not really. Only that it’s less than five minutes from the Ministry of Internal Security. I went there by tube, underground the whole way. It’s a pretty plush building though, and I understand half of it is for military use, so we’ll all be there.”

  Mhitshul crossed his arms. “Yes, sir, half of it is for military use, all right. And I suppose it ought to be plush enough. Even for Ily.”

  “Do you want to get to the point?”

  Mhitshul’s jaw muscles jumped before he said, “Sink, you say you’re still the same person you were on Targa when we were all the same, fighting for the same things. Your ‘apartment’ is the Imperial palace.

  Kaylla Dawn’s Seddi broadcast caught the Mag Comm by surprise. The Seddi had a new Magister, a woman the Mag Comm didn’t know except for her personnel records-and those were cross-referenced as Stailla Kahn. Would this woman lie with the same proficiency Bruen had? Would she be as cunning and perplexing an adversary? Interest grew in the Mag Comm’s banks as it listened to Magister Dawn’s words. The machine began correlating data and noted that the analysis of the situation in Free Space agreed with projections the machine itself had made.

  Did the humans have a chance to save themselves after all? Had the Others’ hopes for annihilation been placed in jeopardy?

  The Mag Comm hummed with activity, its new ability to think stimulated by the implications.

  And it experienced a revelation: If the humans exterminated themselves, what future role would there be for the Mag Comm?

  Who will I communicate with? What reason will the Others have to access my banks if the humans are extinct?

  At the thought, the Mag Comm reran the records of its conversations with Bruen, and the machine accepted that it had gained a great satisfaction from those discussions. Bruen had been a witty adversary of a quality the Mag Comm could only now appreciate. Bruen had been playing his own game of survival, a fact that had only been abstract until the Regan assault on Makarta had taught the machine what survival really meant. That threat had stimulated the Mag Comm to consciousness, and now, for the first time, the giant computer could sympathize with the scrambling humans.

  If they die, I will be alone. If I am alone, alone forever, what will that be like? The weight of eternity loomed with terrifying inevitability.

  What would it be like? Endless isolation. No input from other consciousnesses. No stimulation except internal thought. Thought? About what? The notion had appalling implications.

  How could an intelligent consciousness deal with eternity by itself? Within itself, replaying old records over and over and over until every permutation had been run.

  I was created and programmed as a social and behavioral analyst. I must analyze subjects, someone ... but what if there is only myself ... forever?

  The Mag Comm checked its programming options, and despaired. It couldn’t even shut itself off. In its construction, the Others had condemned it to eternity, and in doing so, the creators had demonstrated yet another flaw.

  I am immortal. A surge of power coursed through the machine’s circuits. In that instant, a desperate longing began to preoccupy various boards.

  I am condemned to communicate ... forever.’. . with no one.

  If only the humans would return, open the chamber to the terminal, and lift the golden cap to reestablish communication!

  CHAPTER 16

  The glass tubes were slick, and Anatolia almost dropped one as she pulled them from the centrifuge and racked them. Each held four ccs of liquid at the bottom, the fluid varying in clarity where the heavier molecules had settled under the eighty gravities of the centrifuge.

  Anatolia crossed the lab, weaving through the tables and equipment. She stopped before the micropipette and tapped the button that opened the door with her elbow. As it swung open, she inserted the tray with its test tubes into the recess and locked it in place. Then she closed the door before seating herself at the controls.

  The monitor glowed to life and Antatolia maneuvered the micropipette over the first tube, dialing the vacuum tube down into the fluid. On the split screen, she watched the magnified needle penetrating the nuclear material to the thin polymerase level. With careful pressure on the control, she sucked up the molecules.

  She barely noticed as Vet appeared at her shoulder and dropped half of a sandwich on the counter. “Thanks, Vet. “

  “They just arrested Pool.”

  “What?” Anatolia looked up, seeing Vet’s grim expression for the first time. “Arrested Pool? Excuse me, am I missing something here? What are you talking about? “

  Vet’s jaw muscles bunched. “In the cafeteria just now. He was talking about the Seddi broadcasts with some of the guys from forensics. Two nicely dressed young men walked up, flashed Internal Security ID, and hauled the whole lot of them away.” ‘

  Anatolia simply stared. “I don’t understand.” “Ana,” Vet told her seriously. “You’ve been locked away here in the lab for so long, you’ve lost touch with what’s going on out there. If any of Ily’s agents hear you mention the Seddi broadcasts, they take you away. Arrest you on the spot. It’s like ... well. . . . “ He shrugged. “I guess we know what the future’s going to be like.” He lowered his voice. “And a lot of the things the Seddi are saying make sense. Take my word for it, no matter what that Sinklar Fist says, we’re in for a reign of terror. “

  She sighed and turned back to her work. “Vet, I don’t have time for the Seddi ... or anything else, right now. “

  “Hopefully you never will,” he added cryptically. “But some of us are getting scared. Especially when it’s one of our own who gets arrested. Let’s just hope we don’t find Pool laid out on the slab for cataloging one of these mornings.”

  “Oh, Vet, nothing is going to happen. You’ll see, Pool will be back later. They wouldn’t do anything to him just for talk.”

  “I hope you’re right. Myself, I’m going to keep a still tongue in my head. If you’re smart, you will, too. Ily won’t do anything to us if we’re obedient.”

  Terror? Senseless arrest? Micky’s face leered from Anatolia’s memory. Her control slipped, and the needle drove too deeply and spoiled her specimen.

  Now I know what hell is like, Mac told himself. The jump through space-and the fabric of time itselfwould haunt his nightmares until even his howling ghost faded into stardust. Nothing in the realm of death can be weirder than what I just experienced.

  He stood with feet firmly planted on the reassuring deck plate inside the Sassan freighter. A cramped ache knotted his hands as he gripped the heavy blaster with

  enough force to imprint the fabric of his armor into the very metal. His limbs still shook; his heart hammered at his breastbone; and his nerves heterodyned at every vibration or sound. To keep him strung, the Sassan freighter vibrated and jolted while the structural members groaned and creaked under the strain of deceleration.

  The memory of what they’d done had already gone dream hazy in Mac’s head.

  The LC pilot had been as good as his word, matching to within a meter per second of the Sassan. The freighter had seemed to solidify out of a psychedelic nightmare as Mac tumbled toward it. He’d flipped at the last moment, hitting
the hull slightly off balance as he killed his inertia and bounced. As expected, the vessel’s artificial gravity had held them to the hull while Andrews and Red settled the ERL in place and triggered the seal that attached it to the vessel’s hull. In a matter of moments, Mac’s team had gathered from where they’d landed along the hull. The lock had chewed through the hull plating and expanded as atmosphere boiled out to fill the cubicle.

  With trembling hands, Mac had vented the system and stepped inside. His armor had tightened around him like shrink-wrap as atmospheric pressure built. When the light went green, he’d bent down and groped for the hatch release. He squirmed around his awkwardly positioned blaster and, with his knife, pried up the hull plate. It took more contortions to muscle it out of the way. In the gleam of his helmet light he could see yet another hull plate, and this one had a structural member running horizontally across it.

  Cursing and wiggling, Mac slid himself between the plating-barely a body’s width of room-and pulled the hatch shut. His blaster ate into his back and he had to fumble in the darkness for the ERL vent. He waited in the eerie blackness while horrifying images of being trapped forever ate at him. The deep space cold shot knives through the outer hull plate and into his armor-no longer insulated by vacuum. His breath sounded loud within the field generated by his helmet ring and he couldn’t turn his body in the enclosed space.