Five Empires: An Epic Space Opera

by Steven J Shelley

  She tried to put on a brave face, but that took so much energy. Especially with the poor sleep she’d gotten the night before. For as long as she could remember she’d lived in fear of being raped. On Tranda, chained in that horrible pit under the St Fidelis monastery, there was the constant threat of sexual assault. It never happened, but that was beside the point. The constant fear wore her down and broke her mind. The fact that she was seen as a harvestable resource rather than a sexual object was scant consolation.

  Her current state of mind was a culmination of all her slow-burning fear. She’d been invaded, by her host’s own admission. Worse than that, she was now expected the carry a fetus for twelve months. It was a responsibility she wasn’t sure she could shoulder right now. That didn’t mean she would make rash decisions, it just meant she couldn’t really bring herself to think about it.

  When the light began to fade, a pair of sky blue stewards descended the stairs to collect them. Fusar was relieved to be on the move. An elegant cruiser, far larger than she expected, waited for them on one of the landing platforms. Fusar and her companions piled into plush seats along with the rest of the Senator’s sizable entourage. The journey to Barras’s provincial villa took a little under three hours.

  Fusar spent the time accessing the Nex for data on Jaj political history. Prior to the rise of Silvius Frajaa, a female Empress had ruled for twelve years. She had successfully challenged the previous incumbent, who’d only been in the throne for three months. Fusar calculated that the average reign over the last century was seven years, though that figure was heavily skewed by the current Frajaa regime.

  Despite the Jaj reputation for bloodlust, not many changes in Emperor were the result of battle. In fact, there had only been three Trial of Champions in the preceding century, which was astounding to Fusar. It spoke of a stable political machine underneath the violence that gave the Jaj their fearsome reputation.

  The historical data did nothing to soothe Fusar’s nerves, however. She knew what she had to do and, if events transpired as she thought they might, a Trial of Champions was inevitable. Jake reached over and deactivated her wristpad before she sank beneath the weight of history. In the muted light of the cruiser’s cabin, where many of the Senator’s entourage were already asleep, he simply held her hand.

  Nothing needed to be said - it was just a wonderfully simple gesture, typical of a man with surprising depth.

  It was close to midnight when the cruiser landed. The various stewards and clan archivists made their way down the gangway and headed towards a stately building silhouetted against the clear night sky. Fusar and her companions followed, greeted by a footman under a stone archway. Fusar was almost asleep on her feet, barely noticing the hallways she was led down. Her only requirement that she be housed close to Jake, and this appeared to be met when they were introduced to adjoining suites.

  62

  What sleep Fusar managed was down to exhaustion more than anything else, but she took what she could get. The sound of clinking silverware coaxed her from a troubled dream. Jake was in the room, arranging breakfast for her. She stared at the white meat, marbled with fat, and realized she was ravenous. The sweet carmeline tea was a delicious cap to a satisfying meal.

  Senator Barras received them early, which suited Fusar just fine.

  He was sitting in his study, dealing with various business matters on a roving lightscreen. According to Jake, he was one of the most successful businessmen on Ebessa, accruing enormous wealth for the Barras Clan. The Senator had never condemned Emperor Silvius at any time in his years of public service, which earned Barras the goodwill and trust to deal with Fusar.

  “You carry the child of a convicted murderer,” the Senator said, motioning for Fusar to sit opposite him.

  Jake muttered something under his breath.

  “Perhaps you might want to explore the villa grounds,” she said to the duellist with a meaningful look. “I’ll be fine.”

  Jake nodded and took Mandie with him, but he didn’t look too happy about it. Fusar knew enough about her people by now to suspect that the Senator’s opening salvo wasn’t meant to offend. It was simply an open and efficient manner of communication. ‘Civilities’ were not only considered a waste of time, they were seen as signs of mental weakness.

  The Jaj were all about broad strokes. They were incredibly adept at skimming what they needed from their limited verbal communication and filling in the gaps themselves. In short, Fusar wasn’t at all offended by the Senator’s tone. The content, however …

  “How do you know this?” she asked.

  “Please,” Barras protested. “You offend me.”

  Fusar nodded. It was a wasted question.

  “Where is this man being held?”

  “He was pulled from Brosk, a prison in Ebessa. That’s all I know about him. I tell you this to establish good will between us.”

  Fusar nodded, but didn’t feel much good will flowing through her veins.

  “I will tell you everything I know,” Fusar said calmly. “Jake was able to extract vital information that your people could not. In return I ask only that you allow me to join your clan.”

  The Senator sat back in his chair, all other tasks forgotten for the moment. He stroked his warty nose to offset the surprise Fusar could see in his eyes. His thick, dark braids hung from his head like a colony of midnight snakes.

  “I hesitate because I need your information quickly, and what you ask may take time. I cannot simply admit you into the Barras Clan. To do so would bring shame on my people. As with all the Great Clans, deeds are the required currency. Yes, you are a champion of Bullhead, but those deeds have already been rewarded.”

  Fusar couldn’t help but reflect bitterly on her “reward”. A medic telling her she’d been impregnated in the name of research after just one night at the Palace of the Fallen.

  “What must I do?” she heard herself asking.

  The Senator sighed. “My gamekeeper will advise you. It won’t be easy, Fusar. You will feel pain like you’ve never felt before. But if you succeed, word will spread of your deed. Your trophy will take pride of place in my abalesk. Most importantly, my clan will welcome you with open arms.”

  Fusar focused on a wall mural while she considered the Senator’s counter-proposal. There was no reason not to believe the man. She’d seen and heard enough to know that one couldn’t simply buy or blackmail their way into one of the Great Clans. But before she passed on her priceless intel, information that could, if he played his cards right, see the Senator rise to become an Emperor, she wanted to know one thing.

  “Tell me, Senator,” she said. “What will you do if your Trial of Champions succeeds?”

  Senator Barras leaned forward with gravity.

  “I won’t have time to know what that throne feels like,” he said. “The paladins need to be mobilized. The fleet needs to be mustered. We need a master strategy. Because we are going to war. That much I can promise you.”

  Fusar felt a tingle run down her spine. She sensed the Jaj Empire could do worse than have this man leading it. He seemed sincere, strong, prudent and passionate.

  “I will also extinguish that abomination growing in your womb,” he added. “Should you wish it.”

  Fusar reached for her lower belly in an involuntary reflex, surprising even herself.

  “I am content to let that issue ride for the time being,” she said. “Now - the Cavan emissary. What you’re looking for is a rare mineral deposit. One so unstable that the Cavan aren’t able to transport it off-planet. That’s where you’ll find the Embank …”

  Fusar caught up with her companions an hour later. They were petting the wild zorses that had sheepishly approached the villa’s southern perimeter. The Renquar Plains were truly beautiful - undulating meadows of bottle green that ran to the horizon in all directions. The Barras Villa sat at the summit of a craggy hill called Dunsilade.

  Ecoform Villages called ‘caserts’ dotted the landscape, bare
ly visible against the surrounding terrain. Every now and again the peal of a Ravager Bell echoed across the verdant slopes, calling all who shared the Faith to their daily Long Prayer. Not much was known about the Jaj religion other than it was founded on ancient marital victories. It seemed to be an optional pursuit, but pervasive enough in this region of Ebessa.

  “What’s news?” Jake asked casually enough, but Fusar could tell he was dying to know.

  Fusar took a deep breath before replying - she still didn’t quite know herself what she’d gotten herself into, and she expected serious resistance from the duellist.

  “I want to join this clan,” she began. “The advantages are obvious. Without clan support, we’re nowhere. Barras can’t protect me forever. I’ll get carted back to the Palace for further testing. You guys … well, deportation is probably the best you can expect. With a Great Clan behind us, we’d have resources. Accommodation. Political support. The list goes on.”

  As expected, the duellist’s eyes narrowed.

  “What do we need to do, Fusar?”

  Fusar looked away. “Not you. Me.”

  Jake grabbed her hands and forced her to look at him.

  “What have you done?” he growled.

  “Nothing you wouldn’t have done,” she said defensively.

  “You’re heading out there to die, aren’t you?”

  “Thanks for your support, Jake,” Fusar said, heading off to find Barras’s gamekeeper. Jake followed.

  “There must be another way,” Jake said. “Everything is lost if we lose you.”

  Fusar spun around. “This is the only way. Barras is going to challenge the Emperor in the next few days. If he succeeds, the Jaj Empire finally goes to war against the Cava05.”

  Jake’s face darkened. “There have been six Trial of Champions over the last twenty years. The Emperor’s champion has never lost a duel. He’s a freak.”

  “Every dog has his day,” Fusar said feebly.

  Scowling with frustration, she approached a wooden hut that commanded a prime view of the rugged terrain to the southwest. An older Jaj wearing riding leathers stacked firewood against the wall.

  “Fusar, please,” Jake said. “I can’t help you with this. It takes a lot for an outsider to join a Great Clan. Why don’t we just let Senator Barras take his armies and go to war? Maybe our work is done?”

  Of course, the notion had crossed Fusar’s mind. She allowed Jake to corral her away from the gamekeeper’s hut and sit her on the grass.

  “It’s over, Fusar,” he said, searching her eyes. “It might really be over.”

  “What about me?” Fusar said, pointing to her womb. “I’m not sure about you, but this is far from over.”

  Jake bowed his head.

  “I know,” he said. “Of course. But if Barras becomes Emperor he might be able to help you.”

  The Senator’s exact word rang through Fusar’s mind - extinguish.

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll help myself,” Fusar said irritably. But there was no doubting that some of Jake’s words had resonated. Why not let Senator Barras continue what they started? After all, he was the one with the power, the military contacts, the authority to make it happen. What more could they possibly do?

  “Do you think the Senator could be another Catalyst?” Fusar asked more softly.

  “Maybe, but I don’t think so,” Jake replied.

  “That’s just it, isn’t it?’ Fusar said. “I don’t think it’s over, Jake. There’s something inside me, waiting to be set free. It sounds stupid, but it’s true.”

  Jake nodded - he clearly felt it too.

  “Let’s get to know this clan,” he said. “Give them our support. And hope like hell Barras’s champion is up to scratch.”

  63

  Fusar relented on her quest to join the Barras Clan, but only temporarily. It made sense to garner high level Jaj support at some stage, especially if she was still under strict medical “supervision”.

  In the meantime she spoke to as many of Barras’s people as she could. His property was self-sufficient in many ways, supporting a buttery, a slaughterhouse and an apiary. There were thirty-two clan members on the property, all of them blood relatives. Each knew his role and performed it with a minimum of fuss.

  Another sixty-eight clan members were spread across the core Jaj systems, conducting business or acting as emissaries. Alas, there were only seven women in the Clan, and none resided on Ebessa. Most lived in a steam resort on Janissa, struggling to keep the XX-toxin at bay. Though it was never admitted out loud, the absence of women on the property was keenly felt. It was a dark cloud over the place, leeching it of life and color. Most folks that Fusar spoke to were reserved and downcast. Despite it’s beauty and productivity, the Barras Villa was like a ghost town.

  Yerto Barras himself traveled to and from the Palace of the Fallen many times, keen for everything to appear normal whilst he prepared his challenge. Within three days Fusar and her friends had gotten a solid handle on the ebb and flow of daily life at the villa.

  The gamekeeper’s name was Wrex, and he spent much of his time patrolling the wild veldt to the southeast. Fusar asked him as many questions as she could without giving away her intention to join the clan. She gleaned that there were several dangerous creatures on the loose in the region. The Jaj had a highly attuned attitude to land management. There was a strong undercurrent of environmental sustainability in everything they did.

  Like most cultures that had survived as long as they had, harsh lessons had been learned and overcome. The pitfalls of resource mis-management had been rectified long ago, leaving diligent, streamlined practices behind. As a result, most of Ebessa was a vibrant wilderness, even though the planet supported a relatively large Jaj population.

  The various caserts that dotted the landscape were protected by powered walls that enclosed the settlements at night. The Jaj fundamentally enjoyed having danger at their doorstep - it fitted perfectly with their warrior-like ethos and their intense reverence of heroic deeds. If a child was lost to a rampant pardernine, it was a good death, a source of great pride for the parent clan.

  Although hunting was probably the most beloved and cherished pastime of the species, animal numbers were never in danger of falling to critical levels. The larger predators were reserved for clan rights and other matters of honor.

  Armed with a much more detailed picture of Jaj life on Ebessa, Fusar approached Senator Barras at the end of the third day and broached the subject of the imperial challenge. In a voice thick with excitement, the Senator advised that if Fusar wanted to witness a once-in-a-generation event at the Palace of the Fallen, she needed to board his cruiser at dawn on the morrow.

  The Senator’s cruiser lifted off in the early dawn. There was a tense atmosphere of anticipation as Fusar and her friends located their seats. Barras nodded to them, the weight of the world on his shoulders. Fusar could understand his obvious trepidation - the man had just challenged the Imperial Great Clan. Whatever happened that day, his life, and the fortunes of his Clan, would never be the same. To his credit, the Senator seemed incredibly well-organized and was not inclined to lose his cool. The stakes couldn’t have been higher, but the Senator refused to give in to emotion.

  Fusar contented herself watching the Renquar Plains slide by from her window seat. Thick pools of fog were gradually burned away by the morning sun, revealing the deeper, more remote valleys. The rugged terrain was truly beautiful - she might have happily spent several weeks exploring the bogs and fens of Dunsilade.

  Jake caught her gaze and nodded in the direction of a thick-set Jaj sitting up front with the Senator.

  “I think that’s our man,” he said with a grin. “Doesn’t look like much, but I actually think he has a chance.”

  Fusar peered through the cabin. There was certainly nothing special about the Jaj. Around average height, rather unassuming features.

  “I did some digging,” Jake said. “He’s on loan from the Paladin Legi
ons. Apparently he’s the most efficiently lethal killer in the Vanguard.”

  “The soldiers are restless for war?”

  “That’s how I see it too. A good sign.”

  Fusar was reassured by Jake’s vote of confidence - he had a good eye for martial ability.

  Breakfast was served - broiled goose eggs alongside amplar crackling. The Jaj seemed to coat everything in their fiery local variety of paprika, which Fusar was only just getting used to. The hearty repast went a long way to taking the edge off her nerves, and she almost enjoyed the steady approach to the Carda Mountains and the Valley of the Fallen.

  Lanced by the oblique sunlight, the leafy Zigurat filled her with a sense of wonder. She almost envied the Senator his regular approach by air. The Jaj were certainly masters of their landscape and knew how to manage it into perpetuity.

  The cruiser landed on one of the larger platforms. There was a small delay before the Senator and his party could alight to the Palace. Several sky-blue stewards wore chest-pieces and carried pulse rifles. Was the Senator expecting trouble?

  It turned out that Emperor Silvius had extended Barras the “courtesy” of an honor guard to escort him to the Round Pit, where the Trial of Champions would take place. Jake stuck close to Fusar as they headed down the aft ramp and were confronted with two rows of scarlet paladins standing to rigid attention.

  The message was clear - as long as Silvius was Emperor, he could command the Paladin Legions at will. Fusar found herself gawking at the imposing warriors as she walked past. Their famous etched helms were truly fearsome. Amazingly, no two were alike. They were crafted by a cadre of renowned plasteel artists at a facility deep in the central veldt.

  Jake took a good look at the soldiers, no doubt weighing their strengths and weaknesses. Senator Barras looked mildly indignant at the show of force, but submitted to the “escort” without protest. The Barras Clan was taken around the western wing of the magnificent Palace of the Fallen and through a cool bamboo forest. Astor monkeys crooned in the swaying canopy.