by Jay Allan
A shadow loomed over her, the shape of a soldier. It was time. The fight was over, the enemy victorious. The way is the way, she thought, repeating the mantra to herself one last time.
“Your Supremacy?” She heard a voice. Familiar. Not an enemy.
A friend? No, not possible…
“Your Supremacy, can you hear me?” The voice was tense, disturbed. Then she realized, the sounds of fighting had stopped.
She felt a hand on her shoulder. “Your Supremacy…it is Tarkus. Tarkus Vennius. Can you hear me?”
“Tarkus?” she said softly, not sure she completely understood what was happening.
“Yes, Your Supremacy. It is me. We’ve come to get you out of here. But we have to go. Now. There isn’t much time.”
“Loyal…soldiers?”
“Yes. I have a cohort of my private legion with me, Your Supremacy. We took out the troops that were attacking, but the rebels have control of the city. We’ll be overwhelmed if we stay here. We’ve got to go. Now.”
She heard Vennius yelling to other soldiers, then a moment later, hands sliding under her, picking her slowly from the floor. Agony ripped through her, but she held her tongue. She had not lived the life she had to die—or to live, if her rescuers were successful—whimpering in pain.
She felt them lowering her now, something below her. A blanket or a bed covering. Then pressure again as she felt it lifting her from the ground. She could see the soldiers, three on each side, carrying her toward the door. And Vennius’s voice, sounding far away now, trying to reassure her.
“We’ll get you out of here, Your Supremacy…and when we do, we’ll strike back, and line these traitors on spikes along the Via Magna.”
* * *
“They must have escaped along the sea paths. There is nowhere else.” Calavius was yelling to a group of officers, his key conspirators in the coup. There was urgency in his tone…and anger. His soldiers had finally seized control of the palace, hours after he’d expected. The Imperial Guard had been virtually wiped out, a preliminary count of the bodies had confirmed that. But the Imperatrix was nowhere to be found.
“Yes, Commander.” The officer in the center of the small group responded, the others standing silently behind. “There is no other place they could have gone.” A pause. “Unless the Imperatrix was not in the palace. Is it possible she had warning?”
Calavius hesitated, considering the officer’s words. “No,” he finally said. “The casualty counts suggest the entire Imperial Guard was here. If the Imperatrix had fled, she would not have done so unprotected.” He’d thought at first that she must be hidden somewhere, and his troops had spent the past several hours searching the palace, millimeter by millimeter. But there was nothing.
If she did escape on the sea path, I’ve given her a headstart…
He felt his fists clench. He was angry—with himself, for not thinking of the sea route earlier, and at his officers as well. Not one of them had suggested sending a patrol there.
But the Imperial Guards are gone…how far can an old woman get on that rugged path in the darkness? That’s why you didn’t think of it. But it’s not too late. You can still get to her.
“I want patrols there at once, both from the palace and from the north to cut off any escape. And I want airships deployed to search the coastline. If she is there, we will find her. Before she eludes us.” The terrain north of Victorum was rough, mountainous and heavily wooded. Ideal country to hide form pursuit. He had to get her while she was still on the open path.
“Yes, Commander.” The officer saluted. Then he turned, shouting orders to the others standing behind him. The entire group raced down the hill.
Calavius took a deep breath. He needed to control his anger, and truth be told, his fear. He wasn’t a coward, certainly not. As any Palatian Patrician of his age and rank, he had seen much battle and danger. He’d been to many worlds, cultures where the privileged and powerful avoided danger, where they sent their minions to fight their wars while they cowered at home in luxury and safety. It had always disgusted him. Palatia’s Patricians shared the dangers of those they led. More than that. The casualty rates among the Alliance’s young officer class were vastly higher than those of any other group. He’d had many friends when he was young, but most of them were gone now. Fewer than a quarter of the Alliance’s elite lived to his age, and close to half the children born into the Patrician class came of age with both parents dead. It was hard, a heavy burden on a people. The way is the way.
Calavius’s fear wasn’t of death, or not entirely, at least. He did find that as he’d aged, his desire to live had become more pronounced, but his worry now was mostly the realization that if he died, if his coup failed, he would be reviled as a base traitor by his people for centuries to come. What he had done, he did to save the Alliance, to retain the martial strength that had made it great. But it would not be remembered that way if he did not succeed.
“Commander!”
Another officer was heading his way, jogging, almost running. Commander-Altum Junia Balventius, a key ally in his coup, and one of the officers he trusted the most.
“Yes, what is it?” He valued Balventius’s judgment, but he still couldn’t keep the anger at the situation completely out of his voice.
“Sir, I think we have a problem.”
Of course…what else would we have? “Yes, Commander?”
“Commander Calavius…there are too many bodies.”
“Excuse me, Commander? Too many bodies?” Balventius was a veteran, one with a reputation for being particularly vicious in battle. Was she losing her control, becoming rattled at losses?
“There are more enemy corpses than the roster of Imperial Guards in the palace, sir.”
Calavius felt his gut tense up. If the Imperatrix had called for additional forces, she had known about the attack. But then why hadn’t she called in enough line units to crush his rising? For all his widespread preparation, he’d hardly been able to secure every unit.
“Line units? Off-duty Imperial Guards called back to service?”
Balventius turned and looked behind her. One of her officers was running up the hill, carrying something. A soldier’s jacket.
“There are a significant number of bodies clad in these uniforms,” Balventius said as she grabbed the coat from her aide and held it up. “We have to identify this livery…it is not familiar to me.” She turned back to the junior officer. “Optio, take this to the…”
“That will not be necessary, Commander.” There was frustration in Calavius’s voice, and resignation. “I know those colors.”
His fists clenched again, and he had to fight to hold back the primal scream straining to escape his lungs. He knew the livery well. Very well.
The Vennius Legion.
Damn you, Tarkus…damn you to the Eleven Hells!
Chapter Fourteen
Encrypted Transmission from Originating from Dannith
The transfer has been made, and the operative is in place and has the package. I have tried to eliminate the intermediary as ordered, but I have been unable to locate him. Perhaps he fled from Dannith. I continue to search, and will terminate upon discovery. It is a lapse of security that he lives, but I consider it unlikely to interfere with the operation. The vessel has departed, and is beyond the reach of the intermediary, even if he attempts to undermine the operation.
Abandoned Warehouse
Just Outside the Spacer’s District
Port Royal City, Planet Dannith, Ventica III
309 AC
Shugart was sobbing softly, his blood-covered hands down over his knee, clutching at the bloody, gaping wound. Lafarge had started their “discussion” rather abruptly with a bullet right through his kneecap. The bastard was a miserable, treacherous piece of garbage, whose deceit would have seen her and her people dead out at Chrysallis. She was ready to kill him for what he had done, but she had held back. She wanted to know exactly what had happened, and just why her cont
act had sold her out.
If it was just for money, she’d already decided she was indeed going to kill him. That was why she’d chosen this location. Dannith’s economy had long been weak, and the war had only made it worse. The planet had a naval base, but that was about the only sector of its industry that benefited from the ongoing conflict. The rest of its economy was operating at little more than depression levels, and every warehouse and industrial facility in this sector had been shuttered. Not only would she get away with killing the worthless bastard, but his carcass would rot for weeks before anyone found it.
She was convinced Shugart had worked with Union operatives more than once, and that meant he had not only betrayed her, he had planned to do it all along. But it also meant he might have useful information of one sort or another, and she was determined to discover the details. If there was another relic out there, or something similarly valuable, she wanted to know about it…and she wanted to know whether the Union was aware of it or not.
Though she had rather enjoyed it, she hadn’t shot her captive frivolously or on a whim. Shugart had never been a brave man, and if he was working with Sector Nine, it was a dead certainty he was scared shitless of them. She knew she wouldn’t get anywhere at all, not until he was just as scared of her. Blowing the dirtbag’s kneecap off seemed as good a first step toward that as any.
“Well, Rolf, I’ll bet that hurts. It hurt when the Sector Nine thugs were giving me beatings too. I have to give it to them, they know their craft.” She stared at the terrified, whimpering man with a feral stare. “Fortunately, I know mine as well.”
She walked around behind him, smiling as he tried to twist around, to keep his eyes on her. She had to hold back a laugh when he shouted again in pain and turned, looking forward again.
“Yeah…I’d stay still if I were you. It doesn’t take much pressure on that blasted kneecap to hurt like a son of a bitch, does it?”
“What do you want, you crazy bitch?”
“I’m impressed, Rolf. I didn’t think you had that kind of courage in you. But before you choose your next words, consider the fact that you have another knee.” She kicked his leg, and he screamed again, louder this time. He looked up at her with tears streaming down his face, but he didn’t say anything.
“That’s better. See, people say you’re stupid. But I’ve always defended you. I tell them, ‘Rolf isn’t stupid. He’s just slow.’” She crouched down next to the chair, staring right into his eyes. “Now, why don’t you tell me about your deal with Sector Nine?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His words were forced, and he whimpered and gasped for air as he spoke.
Lafarge held up her hand with the pistol. “Lying to me is a good way to tell me you think that other knee is superfluous…or maybe that there are other things I could think of to shoot off of you.” She smiled. “I know you’re afraid of Sector Nine, Rolf, but what you need to understand is you should be just as scared of me. More, because I’ve got you here.”
“Andi, please…”
“Oh, we’re well past ‘Andi, please…’ You set me up, Rolf. You sent me out to die, along with all my people. You could have just given your information to Sector Nine, not even told me about it. But you had to try to double dip. I could have gotten past an honest mistake, or even if they’d forced the information from you after you sold it to me. But the Union forces got there right after we did, and they had to come from a lot farther away…which means you gave them the info first.”
She paused, rising back to her feet and walking around her terrified prisoner again. “I don’t have to kill you, Rolf. All I have to do is turn you in. Selling information to Sector Nine is treason, you know, and the Alliance is at war. Even the ponderous Confederation legal system would get you to the scaffold pretty quickly right now. Losses in the war have been very high, and no one is feeling all that sympathetic about traitors.”
She came back around and moved her face right in front of his. “I’d do that, turn you in—it’s certainly less risky for me—but to be honest, I think I can do a better job of it myself. So, I guess we have an obvious first question. Do you have anything…interesting…to tell me, any useful info from Sector Nine? Or should I just take you apart one piece at a time?” She brought up her arm with the gun, aiming it toward Shugart’s leg. “Starting with this other knee.”
“No,” he shrieked miserably. “No, please…”
“Listen, Rolf, I’m going to guess you know me well enough to realize you’re not going to get out of this by appealing to my sympathy. Not after what you did. So, spare us both the waste of time. Give me useful information…or let’s cut the chatter, and I’ll get started.”
“Okay, okay…” Shugart was broken, that much was clear from his voice. “I’ll tell you what I know. Yes…I did give information to Sector Nine. I didn’t have a choice. They came to me. I thought it was just another crew like yours. They’d heard I dealt in information about the Badlands.” He hesitated.
“Go on,” Lafarge said menacingly.
“They paid me. A large sum. I gave them some information, a few rumors about various small finds. But that wasn’t enough for them. I’d already promised the Chrysallis find to you, and I knew you’d be straight with me and give me my cut. But they threatened me. They seemed to know I had something else.”
“So, you shit yourself and told them everything. And then you sold it to me after that.”
“I’d already promised you a prime lead…and you’ve got a temper. I didn’t want to tell you I’d sold your information to someone else.”
“You’re not even a good liar, Rolf. Do you know that? You sold me the information because you figured the Union would take care of me out there, and you would never have to tell me what you did. But I spoiled the party, didn’t I?”
“Andi…”
“Save it, shitbag. All that matters now is if you’ve got more intel. Something valuable enough to save your life. And you’re almost out of time. So, one last time. Have you worked with Sector Nine again since Chrysallis?”
Shugart paused, but the instant she moved the gun he broke down. “Yes…okay. Yes. They made me help them. They told me they’d kill me if I didn’t do it.”
“A lot of people want to kill you, Rolf. We may start a club. So, what is it?” Lafarge was disciplined, but her mind started to race. Where there was one ancient ship surviving, there could be another. Or more antimatter. Even one bottle would be enough for her people to buy entire moons of their own. Shugart was garbage, but she knew from experience he had a nose for sniffing out rumors of old tech.
“I have a contact…in the naval base.”
Lafarge held back her surprise. This wasn’t what she’d expected to hear. What did the naval base have to do with leads on old tech?
“What are you talking about, Rolf?”
“Sector Nine…they wanted me to use my contact.”
Lafarge was confused. She almost gave him another kick in the knee, but something held her back.
“They wanted you to use your contact for what?”
Shugart gasped for air. He was spent, broken, his words barely coherent. “They had a transfer…someone they wanted on a ship’s roster.”
“They wanted your contact to authorize a personnel change? Why?”
“Don’t know…not completely. Double agent. Wanted double agent on ship.” Shugart was shaking, barely hanging on to his control.
“A double agent? You mean a Confederation spacer who is a Sector Nine operative?”
He nodded his head.
Lafarge was lost. She’d expected a lead on old tech out in the Badlands, not some babbling nonsense about enemy agents in the navy. “Sector Nine hired you to get your contact to make a transfer?”
He nodded again. “Yes,” he muttered.
“Did you?”
He hesitated. “Yes…”
Lafarge paused. Shugart was scared, exhausted, terrified. He’d lost a lot of blood
from the leg wound, so much, in fact, she was a little concerned he might die on her before she got the information she wanted. But just what was that? A Union spy in the Confederation navy was a bad thing, to be sure. But it wasn’t exactly the kind of thing she traded on.
Get the rest of the information. You can report it anonymously. The sooner the Confederation defeats the Union the better things will be.
She avoided the thought in the back of her mind, that the Confederation could very well lose the war, with consequences she didn’t care to imagine. If she could help the war effort with a mysterious tip, she would.
“What is the agent there to do? Spy on ship movements? Steal information on tech systems?”
Shugart shook his head.
“Then what?” Lafarge waited a few seconds. Then she pointed the gun at his leg again. “I’m losing patience, Rolf.”
“No! Please! The agent is there for…” He paused again.
Lafarge rested the barrel of the gun directly against Shugart’s knee.
“Assassin,” the hapless creature blurted out.
“Assassin? You mean they sent an agent onto a Confederation ship to kill someone.” She felt an icy wave cut through her. “Answer me!” She grabbed his collar and shook hard. “They sent one of their people to kill a Confederation spacer?”
Shugart nodded.
“Who?” she said, losing her own cool now. “Who are they trying to kill?”
Her helpless captive shook his head. “Don’t know…”
“Tell me,” she almost screamed, bringing her hand across his face in a savage backhand slap. “Tell me!”
“I don’t know…they didn’t give me a name…”
“The ship. You arranged for a transfer. You must know the name of the ship.”
He nodded incoherently.
She slapped him again, harder this time. “Tell me, Rolf! Tell me the name of the ship!”
He was barely conscious. He muttered something unintelligible.
