The Empire

by John Dizon

  "Point taken. I'll keep them under wraps for another week while we go finding those yellows. Just make sure they're watched over."

  "My men have developed an affinity for the two of them," Necromicon pointed out. "Be thankful their attitude toward the woman is strictly platonic."

  Von held back choice words for the captain as he departed. They both knew that Von and Zane would be indispensable should a conflict arise. They had survived more than two dozen skirmishes and were accountable for nearly as many sunken ships. Although they suspected little at first, over time with the duo the crew realized these fellows were highly skilled and experienced. The word that they were being appointed as counselors would be well received.

  Only this agreement with Grav Drachna was proving most troubling. He felt as if the pirates were being used as bloodhounds. And if Drachna thought for one moment he had been betrayed, there was not a single person aboard whose life was worth more than a waste cylinder.

  Even the woman and child.

  ~+~

  The next morning, Vernu Hyte stormed into the meditation center of the Quadrant Security Center at the world capitol. Qom Diabolus was deep in meditation and not at all pleased by Vernu's interruption.

  "My deputies in Sub-quadrant Ten tell me that your men have sealed off a residential sector of about fifty asteroids. They are telling me that access is prohibited, even to the military. It seems as if you're defying the Empire itself."

  "Our only reason for existence is to defend and protect the Empire," Diabolus stared through his helmet visor. "Your accusation is waste."

  "Watch your words," Vernu admonished. "What about that starship? I want Drachna and I want that ship. Instead of finding that terrorist, your men are sealing off sections of Imperial space as a sanctuary for demon worshippers."

  "I'll have to discuss this remarkable change in attitude with your mother," Diabolus asserted. "The sanctuary space, as you may call it, is a refuge for followers as well as loyal citizens of Scorpion. Military and security forces are more than welcome to avail themselves of its resources. We only ask that our privacy is respected."

  "Visitors have access to about ten percent of the sector," Vernu said accusingly. "What's with the other ninety percent? My sources indicate that it's a training facility. For what, your own private army? My mother would never allow you to pose a threat to our Empire, no matter what your relationship is to her."

  "I reject these accusations, and so will your mother. If you have any proof, produce it. If not, I ask that this slander cease."

  "I want access. I want to be able to send an inspection team. I have a solemn duty to this Empire to be familiar with every resource available to it. You're too high up in the chain of command for this to be irrelevant."

  "Very well," Diabolus relented. "I will require one week for religious reasons."

  "One week? That'll give you time to remove and replace everything in the sector."

  "We have achieved and maintained a high level of purification at the facility. It will take days for the Power to accept your presence in the sector."

  ~+~

  Mick Rhymes and his first mate, Daisy Dukes, trudged carefully over the wasteland that had once been the farming community of Miro 3 in the Betan Federation. Their teammates spread in a widening arc behind them, their rifles at the ready. They surveyed the burned-out buildings, the blackened fields, and the charred corpses and carcasses of humans and animals strewn across the landscape. Mick pointed in the direction of a path leading behind a smoldering grain silo, and the two crept steadily along to face the next scene of devastation.

  They stood aghast at the sight of twelve black-clad Revolutionary Guard fighters lying on their backs across the field. Their faces were torn off and their torsos ripped open, their entrails having been ripped out. The fugitives were astonished to see that the innards were nowhere in sight. Four of their teammates set a rectangular position along the perimeter as the other fire team joined Mick and Daisy.

  "Who could have done something like this?" Mick stared at the carnage. "Obviously the Blacks laid waste to this settlement. There was someone else who came in behind them and did this."

  "I'm thinking they may be hiding out in those hills," Triton, the team's hulking sergeant-at-arms, pointed at the hillside along the horizon. "They may be waiting to see if there are any recon crews working the area."

  "How could they be so stupid?" Daisy's eyes grew misty. "How could they be so cruel? This is a beautiful farmland these people developed. You can see the homes, the gardening, the way everything was cared for. They came out here and put their hearts into this colony. The Blacks destroyed years of hard work in a matter of minutes."

  "We'll be wide open to attack if we cross the field toward those hills," Hermes, the science officer, warned them. "Maybe we should wait until it gets dark."

  "That's giving the Blacks or Imperial recon a chance to follow up here," Mick disagreed. "Besides, we've got the Hellfire overhead. Either they'll engage any intruders or they'll provide us with cover fire so we can escape."

  The team made their way across a grassy knoll, coming to within fifty meters of the hillside. At length they saw a tall, slender figure emerge from behind a boulder. They raised their rifles in apprehension as several armed men came out from cover, weapons at the ready.

  "We come in peace," Mick called out. "We're Betan citizens. We come from a trading colony that was overrun by the Empire. They have our personal information and they've been hunting us for months. We came here for shelter and supplies. We had no idea you'd been attacked. I'm thinking maybe we can help each other."

  "How can you help us?" the man demanded. "You can see what they've done. Imperial troops laid our land to waste. God has avenged us, but how will we recover what we've lost?"

  "We're low on food and water. We have gold and currency to pay for whatever you can spare."

  "You are welcome to spend the night with us. Unfortunately we cannot offer more."

  The leader, whose name was Petrus, bade them join his men as they returned to the caves from whence they came. It led to an enormous underground cavern that was honeycombed by dozens of tunnels. Mick and his team slung their rifles over their shoulders and began mingling with the friendly yet cautious community. They were informed that the evening meal was to be served shortly, and were eager and pleased to have been invited.

  "This is quite a set-up you have here," Mick said admiringly as he joined Petrus at a private table in an alcove along a ledge overlooking the cavern floor.

  "There is a mountain not far from here whose icecap melts down into a waterfall. It cascades into an underground lake that supplies us with fresh water. It was the main reason why we settled here. We have vegetable gardens down here that can provide for us to stay hidden indefinitely. Of course, we never thought it would come to this."

  "How did it happen?"

  "They came here three days ago, at the break of dawn," Petrus' voice grew husky. "Two squads of armed men, Revolutionary Guards. They announced themselves, then demanded to speak to the colony leader. I introduced myself, and they took me aside and began asking questions about our ties to the Alliance and our political beliefs. Eventually the discourse began focusing on religion. I told them we were Believers and they grew upset. They told us our religion and our God were dead, and that the System was being converted to the worship of Baal. They said our religion had caused the collapse of the old System, and Baal was now the future of mankind. When I chose to argue, he told me that we would either convert or be executed. I told him I would not, and neither would I convince others to do so. They went from house to house and out into the fields to force each person among us to make a choice. Within an hour, dozens had been slaughtered."

  "How did you escape?"

  "Some of our young men are quite hardy and very righteous. They took up weapons and rescued me and as many others as they could. We fled to the hills and hid ourselves. Last night our scouts came out and saw that s
omeone had ambushed the Guards. We remained in hiding lest Imperial troops showed up. We only came out when we saw you were civilians."

  "That goes to show those wasters are acting independently," Mick frowned. "The Empire would've responded if they lost contact with any of their active units. They're trying to spread their devil worship throughout the System. It's a subterfuge for gaining control over neighboring frontiers. What they're doing is slaughtering anyone who might resist an attempt by the Empire to invade their territory."

  "It is sad how the other governments are unable to prevent this from happening," Petrus was downcast. "The Betans are constantly quibbling amongst themselves, as are the Alphans. They seem to have no clue as to how the Scorpions are devouring the Outer Territories."

  "There's only one answer," Mick was adamant. "The people can no longer rely on governments to protect them from these religious fanatics. We have to take matters into our own hands. We have to join together and defend ourselves."

  "Perhaps there are groups who have the resources to resist the military," Petrus mused. "Mercenaries, pirates, mutineers from Star Fleet who have seized command of warships. They could at least make the military think twice before venturing into the remote areas of the frontier."

  "People like yours, like mine. We can join together and take a stand."

  "Why, that would be suicidal," Petrus was flustered. "That's insanity. We would merely be contributing to the body count on the field outside."

  "There are many others like you and I who have been victimized by the Empire," Mick said intently. "We can reach out and make contact with people with ships and weapons. We can turn this into a base for a rebellion. If we can build a network across the frontier, it can grow so that the Empire won't be able to tear it apart."

  "Do you think I would gamble the lives of the people on this asteroid in such a risky venture?' Petrus grew apoplectic. "Is that why you came here, to recruit others to join your mad crusade?"

  "What's wrong, Father?" a young woman came to the table with a jug of daffodil wine. "Why are you upset?"

  "It's nothing, child," Petrus was reassuring. "Mick and I were merely discussing politics. You know I can be opinionated at times. Mick, this is my daughter Athena. She is a leader of our livestock council."

  "My pleasure," he stood to shake hands.

  Athena was a tall woman, one of the most beautiful Mick had ever seen. She had coal-black hair, alabaster skin and shimmering blue eyes that were as precious stones. She had long limbs, a generous bosom and an hourglass figure that caused the blood of many a man to percolate.

  "I'm sorry, I could not help but to have overheard," she seemed upset. "Regardless of how it may have appeared, this is a peaceful farming community. We scarcely have enough weapons to defend ourselves, much less to take on a detachment of the Supreme Leader's forces. Plus there are married women, children and the elderly among those of us who are left. We could never compromise their security to carry out an act of revenge against the Empire."

  "I'm not asking you to fight," Mick was earnest. "I want you to think about letting others like us to use this as a resting place, as a base where we could meet and develop a network to protect others from what we've suffered."

  "It would be a matter of time before the Empire discovered us and sent everyone to slaughter," she retorted. "I grew up in this community. These people are family. It took a whole generation for us to find this asteroid and build our homes here. They took it all away in one day, in one senseless act of violence. How can you ask us to risk losing everything we have left?"

  "It's what you're about, being Believers," Mick responded. "You believe in a greater good, a higher truth. You have faith in a better future. This is how mankind survives. I read where a holy man once said that faith without works is dead. If you believe, yet live like you don't believe, then maybe you don't really believe at all."

  "Who do you think you are, coming in here and questioning our faith?" she demanded.

  "I'm someone like you," he gazed into her eyes. "I am you. My friends and I came from a trading community. My wife and I were farmers. Imperial troops landed on our asteroid about a year ago and accused us of harboring rebel forces. There were over a thousand people in our community, and within a few hours all that was left were the people you're sharing your supper with this evening. My wife and daughter were murdered by those fanatics. My wife was a Believer, and I believe because she died for her belief."

  "I'm sorry to hear it," Athena looked down at the tabletop.

  "Brother, I am truly sorry as well," Petrus said ruefully. "I can't honor your request to join in any insurgency, but we'll always be here as fellow Believers to provide refuge for the afflicted. There was also a holy Man Who said that those who live by the sword die by the sword. I don't want to see one more friend die by the Xaser."

  "I respect that," Mick raised his glass to them after Athena filled it. "And I cherish this new friendship."

  ~+~

  Captain Misch stared concernedly at Styrena Stone as she was brought into his office that evening. She was a shadow of the person who had attended his dinner table just days ago. She was dressed in a ragged purple gown and was barefoot, covered in grime. Her hair was tangled, her eyes darkened, and she seemed to be shivering. Misch came around the desk and touched her forehead, suspecting a fever.

  "Why are you making it so hard for us?" Misch asked softly. "None of us want this. I'm sure you relish the thought of your mother's forces cornering us in some distant frontier zone, capturing us and ripping our hides off for what we've done. Rest assured, there will be little left of you for her to recognize when that time comes."

  "Do your worst," she said hoarsely. "I'm not afraid of you."

  "Beautiful Styrena," he stroked her cheek. "It doesn't have to be this way. All we require is a hologram asking your mother to sign the treaty. No strings attached, she doesn't even have to comply. It's the thought that counts."

  "I've already told you, I'm not betraying my people. Ever."

  "All right," Misch allowed his fingers to trail to her hair as he walked away. "Xamon, get here over to sick bay and have Seuss treat her for whatever ails her. Move her to a cabin in isolation and get her some clean clothes, decent provisions. We'll let her record a message in her own words. We need to find closure here, one way or another."

  "I–-I don't know what you want me to say–-what you expect me to say," Styrena trembled.

  "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Misch signaled to his men. "Guards."

  "What are you planning to do to her now?" Xamon asked as she was led away.

  "She'll speak on her own behalf in her own words, just as I said," Misch revealed. "She knows what is expected, and she knows the penalties for non-compliance by now. We have to get something we can give to Starfleet to end this thing. Otherwise it's a matter of time before either Drachna, his cannibals or the Revolutionary Guard catch up with us. You see what's being reported on Starnet. The Outer Territories are slipping out of control. This entire frontier is being considered a wasteland. We're racing against time, and it's running out."

  "All right," Xamon conceded. "I just don't think she can take much more. Consider what happens if something happens to her. Marcella Stone will stop at nothing to avenge her, and the people of the Allied Federation will be solidly behind her. They'll turn the girl into a martyr. It'll bring the Federation to the brink of war with our people. And I hope you don't think they won't hand us over on a silver platter."

  "We'll make the hologram and see what happens," Misch exhaled. "Let's just hope she doesn't try and turn this into a battle of wills. If it does, I'll break her will even if it means breaking her back in the process."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  M arcella Stone called a GIA summit conference at Serenity to formulate a new strategy. The four participants met at GIA Headquarters outside the world capitol, a three-story glass and marble structure resembling a diplomatic mansion. Each of the guests were accomp
anied by their own four-man team of bodyguards. This was complemented by a twelve-man team of Starfleet commandos posted at strategic points along the property lines. Overhead there was a flight of six fighter ships prepared to engage interlopers at a moment's notice.

  Attending the meeting was Chief of Staff Pluribus, Chief Strategist Obanion and GIA Director Morpheus. The scheduled topic was the frontier crisis that was creating pandemonium among the members of the Interplanetary Council. Although the Federation continued to deny rumors of Styrena Stone's disappearance, the neighboring powers were anxiously awaiting Marcella's next move. She would rely on her confidants' advice before she committed herself.

  "The feedback I got from the other nations wasn't all that reliable," Marcella informed them as the meeting commenced. They sat in a sprawling carpeted crystal and chrome suite walled by opaque glass that provided them a magnificent view through windows that appeared as solid marble from outside. "The Alliance is as vacillating as the Republic is taciturn. The Empire is grinning at us like the Cheshire Cat. We've got to come up with a game plan that will ensure the safety of the Federation as well as peace throughout the System."

  "It looks like we have to choose between the lesser of two evils," Pluribus, a moderate conservative, mused. "Either we sign a Mutual Protection Pact with the Betans, or a Non-Aggression Pact with the Empire. I'm not sure why we can't make both deals and keep everyone happy."

  "The Scorps won't go for it, that I can guarantee," Morpheus spoke up. "They want the NAP so they can make a move on the Betan frontier. We'd be naïve to think otherwise. Their new angle is that the Betan border has become a hotbed of insurgent activity directed against the Empire. They're saying that the Believers are supporting a reactionary movement intent on deposing the Supreme Leader and bringing Gaius Scorpius out of exile. We know it's a crock of waste but they're taking a hardline on it and will not budge."

  "I've gone on record stating that we need to take a stand alongside the Betans and send Starfleet in to take control of their southern border," Obanion, a hardcore right-wing activist, insisted. "I could drop waste on Cetan insurgents. I'm worried about the Pirate Brotherhood and the Free Company, as well as all the other mercenary and black market networks out there. It's a danger to our international security as well as our military interests in the Northern Zone."