Children of the White Star

by Linda Thackeray

  The Master of the Records appearing behind Iran prompted the crowd's roar to drop to an audible hush. The keeper of Brysdyn's spiritual history emerged from the entrance of the Quorum building, commanding the respect of everyone present. Lord Disciple Salym was the spiritual leader of the Brysdynian people, who spent his days at the Cathedral at Alwi, training acolytes for service to the Lords.

  If Salym was nervous on his momentous occasion, he certainly did not show it. His expression was calm and his brown eyes showed little emotion. With the breeze ruffling his hair, he appeared younger than his years, certainly too inexperienced to be Master of the Records.

  When Garryn finally reached him, the great horn at the top of the Quorum building was sounded. The horn was a relic of the old White Star Empire, when their civilisation was still in its infancy and men lived in caves. The horn had acted as a way to gather the community together in the days before sophisticated methods of communication. On this occasion, the horn demanded silence from its audience and the crowd was silenced even further.

  “Today, the Great Wheel of Ascension turns once more. The old must pave the way for the new and a new dawn to begin. The cycle of the beginning and the end, as taught to us by the Transcendent Lords, has reached full circle and it is time for the Empire to enter a new age.”

  Salym stood on top of the steps, the red carpet running down from his feet like a river of blood. He motioned father and son to approach and they did. They stood one step beneath him as custom demanded.

  “Who has ridden the Great Wheel before this day?” Salym spoke in a loud booming voice.

  “I, who was ordained Iran the First – Imperator and ruling son to House Brysdyn.”

  Salym nodded. “Who is chosen to take his place on the Great Wheel from this day?”

  “I, Garryn the First – Prime and heir to the ruling House Brysdyn.”

  “It is witnessed,” Salym continued. “With the grace of the Transcendent Lords and that of the Brysdynian people, let Ascension begin. First born of the Imperator, speak your name and then hear me to repeat my words.”

  “I am Garryn.”

  The Imperator's eyes flickered and Garryn guessed the last time his father had heard these words, it was when he was taking the oath.

  “Garryn, know your Empire as you know yourself. Do you take upon yourself the mantle of Prime, to be in service to the Empire and House Brysdyn until such time as you become Imperator? Are you ready to take the Oath?”

  Trembling, Garryn nodded, but remembered the answer required according to law.

  “At the dawn of civilisation, when the heat of the White Star upon us was young, the Imperator stepped forward to protect the people. I speak the words spoken by my forebears, passed from father to son and from mother to daughter. Twenty generations from the beginning of the Exodus, I Garryn, son of Iran, say these words as my bond to the people of Brysdyn and the Empire. I will serve as Prime until such time as I can become Imperator and, when the time comes, I will prepare the way for he who comes after me.”

  “The Oath has been spoken in accordance with the forms. The age of Garryn the First begins.”

  * * *

  With the conclusion of the ceremony, the crowd broke out into roars of jubilant applause and cheering. With the formalities taken care of, the celebration would now move to the Domicile courtyard as the street festivities began.

  It felt appropriate to wear his uniform, since the crowd cheered him like a conquering hero instead of their newly appointed Prime. He wondered if they saw any real difference. There was no chance to talk to Kalistar after Garryn was shuffled back onto his skimmer, so he had to wait until the ceremony at the Domicile before he could see her.

  This time, he did not journey alone. His father and Elisha joined him for the return trip to the Domicile. Ashner would follow soon after, escorting their guests to the festivities. The gap gave the family a moment to catch up before the next part of the celebration began.

  The roar of the crowd was almost deafening as the skimmer flew past the thousands of people waving and cheering him, young and old alike. There was genuine warmth on their faces as the skimmer moved through the streets at half speed, allowing everyone to catch a glimpse of their new Prime.

  Garryn supposed it wasn't just his Ascension they were celebrating, but the last bit of proof that the threat of the Scourge was finally over. After believing there would never be a new generation, the succession of the Prime was proof that the Empire would survive after all.

  “Well, how does it feel to be Prime?” Garryn heard his father ask, amazed that he was able to hear through the din.

  “I don't know yet,” Garryn answered honestly. He did feel proud and happy to take up the role, but it was still too new for Garryn to realise whether he liked or hated it. At the moment, the only emotion he felt was pride at being able to please his father and his people, but he felt overwhelmed as well.

  “You will be wonderful, Gar,” Elisha declared, beaming. “Once all this is over and you get to work, it will be less terrifying.”

  After returning to the Domicile, Iran officially opened the celebrations to the masses. Most of the festivities revolved around the Kleist district, but a carnival-like atmosphere descended over the entire city of Paralyte. Fireworks would follow the aerial salute by the Imperial navy and light up the sky like shooting stars.

  It was after dark when Garryn finally saw Kalistar.

  “Isn't it wonderful?” Kalistar exclaimed as they sat in the courtyard, watching the sleek ships moving across the starry sky. Around them, there was music playing and people dancing.

  “It certainly is,” Garryn agreed, admiring the aerial stunts being performed, wondering how many of those pilots were former friends and comrades.

  “I remember seeing Garryn fly once,” Iran declared to everyone at the table with them. “You were very good.” He cast a proud gaze at his son. “Don't let being Prime get in the way of your flying talents, my boy. It would be a terrible waste.”

  “I don't think I'll ever become accustomed to seeing men fly in these tiny fighters,” Garin, the Chancellor of Jyne, added. “It's so disconcerting to be trapped in such a small space when there is so much vastness outside.”

  “That can be true,” Garryn remarked, “but it makes you feel very much a part of it all.”

  For Garryn, there had been nothing quite like soaring through the skies in his ship, seeing the stars rushing beyond the canopy of his small ship. He remembered racing a comet and knew most pilots found such moments difficult to describe to someone who didn't live the life. It made star gazing as intimate an experience as any shared with a lover.

  The Jynes did not travel in small, one-man fighters. Instead, their starship design allowed for the manoeuvrability of a smaller craft while possessing the armament and shielding required of any warship. Relying on superior sensor equipment and tiny shuttles for non-combat travel, the Jyne Fleet had abolished the need for small, one-man fighters that were very much a staple of the Brysdynian Navy.

  “I guess it will always be a matter of preference with us,” Garin replied good-naturedly.

  Garryn's grandfather often looked oafish and much too amiable, with his bushy white beard against his dark skin, but Garryn knew from experience that the Chancellor was a superior diplomat. He had been told a number of times that, beneath the disarming façade of the lovable old man, Chancellor Garin was an intellect never to be underestimated.

  “Tell me, Grandfather, was it a surprise when Jyne learned about life on Cathormira?”

  The question drew the attention at everyone at the table.

  “It was a long time ago,” Garin was suddenly unable to meet Garryn's eyes. His voice, only a short time ago so filled with humour and warmth, was now taut and sober. “What I remember is inconsequential.”

  His grandfather's discomfort was obvious and even Iran was shifting in his seat while Edwen stared at Garryn with steely eyes. Only Elisha and Kalistar were oblivious. A
shner cleared his throat, a sign he was about to change the subject, but Garryn pressed on before he could do so.

  “I'd be interested to hear what you little you know. Your astrogators and scientists are well ahead of us in stellar cartography.”

  “That's true, but Cathomira is well within Brysdynian boundaries and we weren't inclined to conduct exploration in other territories.”

  “Not even after our alliance?”

  “Its not good manners, Garryn,” the Chancellor replied, and this time his gaze did meet Garryn's. “Such a request would require miles of red tape and it seemed pointless when we could get the data we needed from your researchers. Besides, our requests were always met with denial.”

  “I wasn't aware you tried to study Cathomira.” This time the question came from Iran.

  “Some of our astrogators were curious how a red star managed to produce worlds suitable for human inhabitants. We wanted to study the ecosystem from orbit.”

  It seemed to Garryn the Chancellor knew a great deal about the research attempts. At some point, he must have tried to investigate Cathomira itself and come up against the Healer's Circle. Since the Scourge, the Healer's Circle had extraordinary powers when it came to the health of Brysdyn. Still, what harm could there have been to allow the planet to be studied from orbit?

  “You should have come directly to me, Chancellor,” Iran declared, appearing disturbed that no request was ever made known to him. “I would have seen to it that you were afforded every courtesy.”

  “I did not want to impose on our personal relationship, Iran.” Garin appeared touched by the offer. “At the time, it seemed more appropriate to go through the correct channels for our requirements.”

  “If you're still interested in research, I have endorsed a Brysdynian expedition to Cathomira which is due to depart in the next weeks. I'm sure the Chief Investigator would welcome a Jyne science team to accompany them,” Garryn suggested.

  “You've endorsed a ship to Cathomira?” His grandfather exclaimed with surprise.

  “As much as I love Brysdyn and being Brysdynian, I do feel it important that I know something of the world on which I was born. The scientists who are leading the expedition have their own agendas, which I found sound enough to support, and I'm interested to see what they learn.”

  “Science is its own danger,” Edwen spoke for the first time. “Your expedition will be moving into remote space. There is so much we don't know about Cathomira. It may not be safe.”

  “Safety is the last thing that scientists think of,” the Chancellor declared. Edwen's objections heighten the leader's interest. “As for your offer, my boy, I will bring it up to the Science Academy on the home world and let you know.”

  “At your convenience, Chancellor,” Garryn smiled.

  Edwen said nothing more.

  XIV

  The Asmoryll

  Until Kalistar's revelation to Edwen regarding the research expedition to Cathomira, the General had no idea of its existence.

  Once he did know, Edwen admired the simplicity of its secrecy. Nothing was concealed outright. The paperwork and the official sanctioning were there for public record. No attempt was made to conceal it in any legal fashion. To his annoyance, even the Healer's Circle was fully appraised of the situation, leading Edwen to question the effectiveness of his operatives in the organisation. The only unusual thing about Garryn's expedition was Edwen's lack of awareness until the day of the Ascension.

  Through the years, Edwen had developed a reliable network of unofficial sources of information. This assured that he was kept abreast of everything taking place in the Empire, no matter how insignificant. Now it appeared Garryn had managed to bypass his entire intelligence network to organise this expedition of his.

  At first, he wondered if his informants had been deliberately silent, but he knew better. They were trained espionage agents, most of them, with deep-seeded links to the Security Elite. Edwen made it a point to select his agents with care. In the espionage sector, the criterion was twice as rigid. Not only did he have their sworn allegiance to the Elite, but their oath extended to him personally. Betrayal was not in their vocabulary. Those who did incur his wrath served as a warning to others.

  Despite his conjecture at how little he knew, Edwen had to acknowledge one thing – Garryn's actions meant he suspected the Elite.

  Normally, this would be of little concern to him. Garryn had always disliked Edwen and the institution. However, this time the young man had manoeuvred things to ensure that Security Elite was kept utterly out of the loop. Ingenious, when one recognised the orchestration of information.

  Authorisation for the kind of enterprise Garryn was mounting had to come from the highest level. Most of Edwen's informants were nondescript personnel who did not have access to top-level security. They were effective because they heard and noticed things out of the ordinary, reported their findings, and left it to Edwen to decipher the rest.

  Garryn had gone straight to the top and made his requests.

  After that, it was simple for Edwen to guess the rest. The young man was the next Imperator of the Empire. Despite their ambivalence to such an enterprise, the powers that be would be unable to ignore the request. Careers were made on favours like this. These tiny backroom bargains and secret handshakes were not uncommon. Edwen's own rise to prominence owed a great deal to the support he'd given an Imperator years ago.

  Garryn was no fool, however. He would never promise them anything outright. Most likely, he would seal their transactions with subtle words. Words like 'undying gratitude', 'I will not forget your co-operation', ' maybe I can return the favour'. The nature of politics made these words as priceless as gold.

  Yes, Edwen thought, that is almost certainly how it went.

  Later, once the deals and favours were made, Garryn would request one small provision. Confidentiality. No paperwork other than what was necessary. All involved would remain silent and carry out the request like another routine function. Nothing to excite the informants working for him. All to make certain that he, General Edwen of Security Elite, did not find out anything. Did it mean Garryn suspected him of complicity in the Cathomiran affair?

  Edwen could not be certain, but he still had to act.

  “Well, Danten?” Edwen asked of his second in command after the man had been shown into his study a few days after the Ascension.

  Danten appeared anxious. This did not bode well for their meeting. The Major did his best to maintain his professionalism, taking his usual rigid stance before the General's desk, as if he was delivering his report at the Enclave. Edwen did nothing to change that perception.

  “They leave the Orbital in four days.”

  Edwen slumped visibly in his chair. “Where did they get the ship?”

  “From the Imperial Navy. They're taking the Asmoryll.”

  The Asmoryll was a small, Beta class frigate. However, it was fully armoured, capable of matching speeds with their largest destroyers, and had an arsenal to fend off any attack under the command of a good master. Again, Edwen found he had underestimated the young man. Why ever did Iran allow him to languish in the service as a pilot? The boy was a tactician and should have been an officer on a ship of the line.

  “He expects trouble. He's selected a ship capable of protecting itself. The Asmoryll is Petron's ship, isn't it?” Petron was an able commander, but not an exceptional naval tactician. One of Edwen's better-trained commanders could fly circles around the man.

  “Not for this trip,” Danten said uncomfortably, guessing what was in the General's mind. “Petron is on his way to Krysta for shore leave, so Admiral Vyndeka is in temporary command.”

  Another underestimation.

  Vyndeka's record was the stuff of legend, commanding loyalties from the Imperial Navy rivalling the Imperator's popularity. Her eminence as commander was no exaggeration. In the years after the Scourge, Vyndeka commanded the fleet sent to deal with the pirates and mercenaries looting the Imp
erial worlds. The Pirate Wars, as they became known later, made her a heroine in the eyes of every Brysdynian.

  Vyndeka's dislike for him and Security Elite was equally well known.

  “I wonder how much Garryn has told her. Vyndeka must see a chance to embarrass me to take such a menial task. Ferrying scientists around is hardly the work for a distinguished veteran like her.”

  “General, what are we going to do?”

  For the first time, Danten began to feel real panic. Years ago, their path seemed so clear. Now, Danten wasn't so convinced. Despite their raw wounds from the Scourge, there was no justifying what they had done. Worse yet, with Brysdynians no longer feeling the threat of extinction, could they bear knowing the truth?

  “Going after the ship while it is in our space is not an option, whether Vyndeka is in command or not. As I said before, the Elite must be blameless in this situation. Tell the Warhammer that she is to leave Cathomiran space immediately. She cannot be in the vicinity when the Asmoryll arrives.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Danten nodded, regaining his composure somewhat. “But the Asmoryll can't be allowed to transmit what it learns about Cathomira.”

  “Obviously, but it is a long way to Cathomira and, even then, stars on the verge of nova can be unpredictable; anything could happen.”

  * * *

  The Asmoryll was a sleek ship, compact in its design.

  As Garryn stared at it through the window of the observation deck, he found himself pining for his former military existence. Only a fortnight had passed since the ceremony of Ascension and already Garryn felt trapped by the position. Learning to understand the business of government was a labyrinthine maze, testing his considerable navigation skills. Not for the first time, he longed for skies.

  He was Prime and that was all there was to it.

  Through the glass, he saw the Admiral giving last minute instructions to an adjutant who scurried off shortly after to carry them out. Admiral Vyndeka was a small woman whose greying brown hair was pulled tightly back in a severe bun. While she appeared glacial with authority, Garryn knew better. During her lifetime, Aisha and Vyndeka had developed a close friendship that was a part of his childhood.