One Last Flight: Book One Of The Holy Terran Empire

by Carlos Carrasco

  I groaned out loud, drawing a glance from the knight. Esty’s admission conjured up an image of her coupling with Ridge that just churned the bile in my belly to life.

  “I could say Ridge forced himself on me,” Estrella said. “But that wouldn’t be entirely honest.”

  “How could you?”

  “I wasn’t in my right mind…”

  “He was a pig!”

  “I was a mess...”

  “He had green teeth!

  “... And scared and…”

  “I mean, what few teeth he had left were green!”

  “... And it’s no excuse, I know…”

  “You damn right it ain’t,” I said, noting that everyone in the bar had their attention furtively fixed upon Estrella and I. “I should have shot you when I had the chance. I should shoot you now!”

  “You have every right to be angry,” Estrella said.

  We fell silent as the bartender approached with my drink. The silver haired woman regarded me with a polite but cool eye as she placed my drink before me and picked up the empty snifter. She then turned to Estrella. “Is there anything that you require, Abbess?”

  “No thank you, Thalia.”

  “So you two know each other?” I asked.

  “I know the Abbess from church, yes.”

  “Well, I know your Abbess from long before church,” I said. “Would you like to hear..?”

  “Not particularly,” Thalia cut me off curtly.

  “Oh? Why not?”

  Thalia shrugged her slender shoulders. “Every saint has a past.”

  “So she’s a saint?”

  “I think so,” Thalia said, turning from me to gaze adoringly at Estrella. The two women squeezed hands affectionately.

  “You’re too kind, Thalia,” Estrella said.

  The bartender returned her attention to me. “Revisiting a saint’s sordid past can be instructive, encouraging even, but; I fear your interest in the Abbess’ past is of a more salacious nature. So, with all due respect, I shall have to pass on your history lesson. If there’ll be nothing else, sir?”

  I shook my head.

  Thalia nodded and returned to the bar.

  “Enjoying your home field advantage, are you?” I asked when I looked back across the booth at Esty’s lopsided grin.

  “I’m just touched that you can still be jealous after so many years,” she said.

  “More disgusted than jealous,” I said and took a swallow of my drink.

  “Well, Ridge was, as you said, a pig,” Estrella conceded. “It didn’t take long for me to get disgusted with myself, to become as much of a pig as he was.”

  “What happened?”

  “Long story short,” Estrella said. “We hid out in the city of Kellock until Ridge arranged for us to get offworld. We signed on to one of those Hegemony Satyricon Starliners.”

  I barked out a laugh. “A Ho-boat!”

  “Yes, one of them,” she said with obvious distaste at the recollection. “I sold myself into sexual slavery. Ridge was attached to the maintenance crew. But that didn’t last long.”

  “Probably couldn’t stand not being top mug on the totem pole,” I suggested.

  “Something like that,” Estrella concurred. “Six weeks into the cruise I heard he was spaced for insubordination. By that time I was beginning to believe he was the lucky one.”

  “I’ve heard those Ho-boats are real rough rides for the help,” I said.

  “Yes, but not as bad as a Psion prison planet, I’d wager,” Estrella said with a sad shake of her head. “Anyway, I jumped ship the first chance I got. It was some three years after signing, on a stopover on Haven. On the way there I overheard some of the crew talking about the planetside politics. They were lamenting the rise of a certain faction, Christian troublemakers they called them, who were campaigning for the criminalization of prostitution and banning visits from Hegemony Ho-boats. Apparently one of the Christians, a charismatic firebrand who promised to clean up Haven, was expected to become the planet’s fledgling global government’s first Prime Minister. The Ho-boat crew joked about dumping the waste tanks over the capital’s Cathedral after what was sure to be their final visit to Haven.

  “Hearing that gave me the idea to seek sanctuary at the Cathedral, which I did on the second night after we set up camp planetside. The priests there hid me in the convent until the Hegemony ship left.”

  “Here on Krestor Station?”

  “No,” Esty said. “The convent here is just a chapter house of the order. The Mother House of the Sisters of the Sacred Wounds is on Haven. It was there that I hid. I stayed even after the Ho-boat left the planet. The nuns nursed me through the cold turkey withdrawal from addictions to nanites and a half a dozen other drugs. It took months, but eventually my health recovered and more importantly, my sanity was on the mend.

  “I stayed on at the convent after I was clean. Though the nuns insisted that I owed them nothing, I wanted to pay them for their kindness. So I stayed as a volunteer, helping them out with their small farm, the kitchen and wherever else I could. All the while I studied their religion. I read their books, asked questions and did a lot of thinking, a lot of soul searching and before I knew it…”

  “You were hooked?” I suggested.

  “In a manner of speaking,” she said. “Growing up in the Federation, we are taught to dismiss the Faith out of hand as nothing but ancient, irrational superstitions but I found it to be quite rational, coherent and intelligible. Before long, it was the Physicalist/Materialist view of mankind and the cosmos that struck me as superstitious... insane even.

  “The better I understood the Faith, the more I grew to love it. Before the year was out, I converted and petitioned to join the order. Originally I sought penance for the excesses of my former life in the asceticism of consecrated life, but to be honest, I’ve grown to love consecrated life so much, it’s no penance at all.”

  Estrella paused to finish her juice before continuing, “Six years later, the order transferred me to Krestor Station. About ten years later Abbess Sarah passed unto her eternal reward and the sisters elected me her replacement. I’ve been here ever since.”

  “Where you just happened to cross paths with Drake,” I said.

  “That was quite the pleasant surprise, for both of us,” she said. “We had been living on the same station for three years and never crossed paths before then.”

  “How did it finally happen?”

  “Drake got drunk waiting for the jitney to Haven,” Estrella said. “He got into a fight and was placed in the drunk tank for twenty-four hours. When he was finally released, he had several hours to wait for the next jitney. None of our bars would serve him, it wasn’t his first offence, you see, so he took to wandering the station to kill time. He decided to check out the church he had until then ignored. He was lured in by our singing, Drake said. Once inside, he recognized me and sought me out after Mass.”

  “How long did it take you to convert our little brother?”

  “Drake was converted by the grace of God,” Estrella said. “I was only our Lord’s instrument…”

  Recessed lights along the lounge’s ceiling came on suddenly. A three tone chime sounded from hidden speakers. The chime was followed by the voice of Kressi, the station’s AI. “Attention all personnel. Your attention, please. A Federation ship has been detected three and a half AUs from the station. Please proceed in an orderly manner to the Crane Auditorium and await further instructions. I repeat, a Federation ship has entered Krestor Station space…”

  14

  For a moment, everyone in the bar traded concerned looks. They then rose to their feet. I followed suit, draining my drink in the process. We made a right turn out of the lounge. The bartender and the other civilians made a left.

  “Shouldn’t we be headed in the same direction?” I asked.

  “As head of the convent, I have standing orders to report to Station Control in the event of an emergency. It’s an advisory r
ole,” Estrella said. She raised her arms and swivelled left and right, adding, “It comes with the tent, I’m afraid.”

  “Lieutenant Zapatas will expect me there as well,” the young knight said.

  “And I’m with her,” Sister Elizabeth said, pointing to Estrella.

  “I guess, I’m with her too,” I said.

  Sister Elizabeth gave me a wide smile and Estrella took my hand.

  We walked at a brisk but unhurried pace for nearly a hundred yards, passing empty boutiques, cafes and other assorted storefronts before we made another right turn. The corridor that opened up before us was one of the three spokes connecting the ring we were in to the station’s central spool. Two slidewalks, separated by a fixed esplanade, stretched down the center of the corridor. We stepped onto the belt running towards the spool without breaking our strides. About half way down the corridor our wristcoms alerted us to an incoming message with a mix of the various chirps, beeps and chimes we had programmed for our devices.

  I connected my wristcom to the station’s public broadband channel and found the message. It was an unintelligible string of alphanumerics, hundreds of characters long, transmitted from outside Krestor Station.

  Estrella looked up from her wristcom, her faced pinched in confusion. “Does anyone have any idea what this might mean?”

  “If I had to guess,” I said. “I’d wager it means that there are Federation operatives on board the station.”

  My companions fell silent for the rest of the ride on the slidewalk. At its end we were deposited before a bank of elevators. We summoned one and entered it.

  “Control Center,” Estrella called out when the doors closed.

  An angled screen above the doors lit to life with the face of a young, dark complexioned woman. Her cap portrayed the station logo inside a golden, diamond-shaped field. “Hello Mother Superior. Who is the civilian?” she asked after looking the party over.

  “This is Gaelic of Arkum,” Estrella answered. “He is with me.”

  The woman’s eyes gave me a second lookover. I shot her a wink and flashed my most roguish smile. She was less than impressed.

  She glanced briefly at something off screen before responding, “Very well, Mother Superior.”

  The screen turned off and the elevator began to rise. It was a short and smooth ride to the bulbous top of the spool which housed Krestor Station’s Control Center. Two light-armoured Imperial Knights stood guard, still as statues, one on either side of the elevator bank, with pulse rifles cradled in their gauntleted hands. The room beyond them was round and cavernous under a dome capped in clear Crysteel. Three dozen tech types sat behind various monitors and controls, their consoles arranged in three concentric circles facing away from a central raised dias. Their jumpsuits and caps were similarly distinguished with the golden piping and diamond-shaped field.

  A plush command chair was centered on the dias. On it sat a bald and broad shouldered man with a bronzed and heavily creased face wearing an all gold jumpsuit. On his left hand side stood a younger pair of Krestor Station employees. One of them was a light skinned male of short but muscular stature. The other was a slightly taller female with an athletic frame and a ruddy complexion. Their jumpsuits and caps were accented in red. Unlike the unarmed techs, they had pulse pistols holstered at their sides. On the other side of the command chair stood Lieutenant Zapatas, his knight escort and a tall and pale, gray-haired priest.

  The pair of Krestor Security officers casually sized me up when we stepped off the elevator. Everyone else in the room had their attentions fixed on their consoles or were watching one of the two massive screens spread on opposite walls. The screens showed the rear view of a small ship I recognized as a Federation Scout. Dismissing the scrutiny of the station’s security, I studied the readings which accompanied the image of the scout. The ship was racing away from the station and quickly approaching jump speed. The Halberd Prydwen was in pursuit. The chase was purely perfunctory. The numbers clearly showed that the scout ship would slip back into the Aetherium long before the Prydwen could get her within weapons range.

  Estrella led us down one of the paths that trisected the rings of consoles. When we stepped onto the dais the man in the golden jumpsuit started to rise from his command chair. “Mother Superior, would you prefer to sit?”

  She bid him back to his seat with a wave of her hand and a smile. “Thank you, Chief Chung, but I’d prefer to stand.”

  Chief Chung gave her a quick bow of his bald, round head before reseating himself.

  “It’s just a single ship?” Estrella asked.

  “Yes,” Chief Admin Chung answered. “It’s a Federation Scout.”

  “It appears to be leaving,” Estrella observed, studying the data projected onto the screen. “And in a hurry.”

  “I believe the scout was surprised by the presence of an Imperial Halberd in the sector,” Chief Chung said. “She barely had time to scan the station and transmit her cryptic message before she had to turn tail and run.”

  “Do we know who they were trying to reach?” Estrella asked.

  Chief Admin Chung shook his head. “No one has responded to it.”

  “It’s probably an alert to their operatives on the base,” I said. “I would guess it’s telling them when to expect the fleet.”

  “We figured it is something like that,” Chung said. “And maybe it’s a green light for whatever operation they have been planted here to accomplish.”

  “That’s a safe bet,” I agreed.

  “The scout ship is about to jump,” Lieutenant Zapatas announced.

  We turned back to the screen just in time to watch the Federation vessel seemingly wink out of existence. I noted that its heading put it on a path to Ramage.

  “Let’s recall the Prydwen,” Chung ordered.

  “Aye sir,” one of the techs seated before us answered.

  “And contact the foundry,” Chung added.

  “Aye sir,” responded another tech.

  The field of stars vanished from the screen. The image of another Imperial Knight replaced it after several seconds. This new knight was nearly coal black in complexion. He had a flat and broad face with prominent cheekbones, large gray eyes and wide-flared nostrils over grimly set, thick lips. A thin, white afro topped his head like a light dusting of snow. The cross on his breastplate was gold and outlined in red.

  “Commander Apraxin,” Chung said. “The Federation scout has retreated back into the Aetherium.”

  “Did they receive a response to their transmission?” Commander Apraxin’s voice was deep and gravely.

  “No, commander.”

  “Has everyone complied with the order to gather in the auditorium?”

  “There are a few score stragglers waiting on lifts,” Chung said. “But all civilian personnel are accounted for at or en route to the auditorium. We’ll keep them there until your men are done with their search and the station completes its level A1 self-diagnostics. It shouldn’t take more than three and a half hours. In the meantime, we have doubled security at the docking bays and the engineering deck.”

  “Good,” Commander Apraxin said. “Our work on the foundry is proceeding on schedule. We should be done in another 16 hours. Hopefully the scout’s sighting of our Halberd will give the Federation pause before penetrating deeper into the OZ.”

  “Hopefully,” Chief Admin Chung concurred with wan conviction.

  “How goes the evacuation effort?” Apraxin asked.

  “The loss of the jitneys has slowed it down considerably,” Chung answered. “Father Corsica has appealed to Prime Minister Milosevic for aid in the effort.”

  “The Prime Minister has called for volunteers to fly what ships they have out here and pick up as many as they are able.” The old priest spoke up. “A few ships are already enroute. Maybe with them, the Halberds and the station’s lifeboats we can have the station evacuated within a week.”

  “That’s not going to be good enough, father,” Commander Ap
raxin said. “I would like you to advise the Prime Minister to confiscate the grounded jitneys and press them into service.”

  “I can’t advise that Commander!”

  “You would of course tell the Prime Minister the suggestion comes from me, father.”

  The priest shook his head. “I don’t believe he would be amenable to the idea, Commander Apraxin, regardless of who suggests it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Prime Minister Milosevic may be a brother Christian with little love for the Federation,” the priest said. “But he is also an Ozee through and through with just as little love for the Empire. Encouraging his citizens to help the station to evacuate is one thing, but seizing Federation property, well; such an act could be construed as aiding the Empire itself. And well, it’s my understanding that the Prime Minister and the people of Haven would prefer to stay neutral.”

  Commander Apraxin took a deep breath and expelled it in a snort. The Imperial Knight paused for a moment, his gaze seeming to bore into each of us, before continuing, “I presume the civilian among you is Don Gaelic of Arkum, the source of the intelligence which informed us that the Federation is gathering forces around Ramage.”

  “I am,” I said, surprised to be acknowledged.

  “And it is your contention that the Federation vessels you spotted entered the Open Zone through Hegemony space?”

  “It is,” I said.

  “We’ve examined his scan logs and ship’s computer, Commander,” Lieutenant Zapatas interjected. “And we can confirm Don Gaelic’s testimony.”

  Commander Apraxin nodded sagely. “Considering the time it takes to travel from the Federation to the OZ through Hegemony space, we can safely assume the ships Don Gaelic of Arkum crossed paths with set out about the same time the Lyonesse and the Republic battled over Amber. I should think this fact would make it clear to all that the Federation means to annex the Open Zone. Their diplomatic efforts can thus be dismissed as a mere ploy, a stalling tactic. We should all come to the sober realization, however painful, that war is upon us.

  “And I would further, respectfully suggest that all you Ozees, if you truly desire to keep your vaunted independence, come quickly to terms with the situation we find ourselves in and seriously consider cooperating with the Empire.”