by David Winnie
Not bad, mused the First Premier. This banishment to the back rows I can work with. She began to formulate her plans.
May 3139 A.D.
Aboard the Siene, the Emperor Janus Arcadia Khan sipped a cup of tea from a priceless porcelain cup and set it carefully on its saucer. The purser had explained the setting had been personally selected by the late Empress Sophia during the late Emperor Angkor Khan’s journey to the outer worlds of the Empire immediately before the Khan’s father, Tenzing, died. From what he remembered of Grandmother Sophia, Janus rather doubted she had selected the fine china.
Janus had opted to have afternoon tea with his closest advisors in his private forward lounge. Mars grew ruddy and fat in the bay window that dominated the room. The Khan had ordered the approach vector screening of the Mars Shipyard and graving docks. His advisors were aware, of course, that the ship was near completion. Only he and Cassius knew just how close.
“Majesty, we are in the orbit you requested. We are standing by for your orders to approach your shipyard.” The voice was in his head, a benefit taken from the body of the hashashin assassin. It had been unnerving at first, receiving communication directly into his brain without a standard com. He adapted quickly, though, and thoroughly enjoyed having conversations with people weren’t in the room while he was attending some boring function or odious meeting.
“Very well. Begin the approach as we discussed.” “Ladies, gentlemen.” Janus said. “For years, we have been discussing my Grandfather’s plans for protecting and expanding our Empire. After the Battle of the Five Cities and Grandfather’s untimely death, we were handed a bountiful gift from our enemies.
“The hulks and wrecks left behind by our enemies provided us with the secrets of powering our fold vessels more efficiently. Imagine nearly unlimited power, using hydrogen fuel and the secrets of the universe hidden from us by the Galactic Council. Now that we have taken these secrets from those who would oppress and destroy us, we are on an equal footing with them.”
“I take it they didn’t give up those secrets easily.” Lazarus Stein, his Financial Minister sipped at tea, spilling a trickle in his full grey beard.
“Easily enough,” drawled Jeffery Andersen, his Intelligence Minister. He wore a crushed, wide brimmed hat and was a mountain in black, save for a large silver buckle. “Y’all would be amazed what a critter will tell you with the proper persuasion.”
The whole room chuckled.
“Gentlemen,” Janus said. “Behold, after ten years, the result of our labors.”
It was difficult to make out at first, a spider web of silver reflection against the curtain of blackened space behind it. As Siene drew closer, the framework of the space dock became apparent. A tapered cylinder extended a quarter mile past one opening of the dock and, as two smaller docks were being pulled away, revealed six barrels affixed to the stern of the cylinder. Small worker pods and drones swarmed the vessel.
“Half a mile long. A quarter of a mile in diameter. Two launch bays capable of operating seventy-five of our most modern Brigand fighters. Four single barrel meson rifles, mounted in turrets for combat and planetary assault,” quoted Janus. “Fifty missile batteries, two hundred close-in lasers for fleet action and defense.”
Janus spread his arms. “I give you Terra’s Dreadnaught Mark 1!”
The Siene orbited around the space dock, eager eyes examining the slumbering beast. From the belly of the ship, they could see three of the meson turrets, arranged around the fattest points of the ship. Sweeping close to the belly weapon, they could see inside the mirrored barrel, the orange glow of the meson generator reflected deep inside the ship. Smaller turrets tracked the shuttle as it passed the black and grey flanks of the warship.
The yacht circled the dreadnaught three times, then parked off the port bow of the deadly vessel. “Glorious, my Khan!” breathed the Prime Minister. “Truly glorious! When will he be ready to deploy?”
Janus spoke into his comm. “Execute!”
The work pods and drones arced away from the dreadnaught. Clamps and arms on the dock released and raised away from its mighty hull, while position and navigation lights burst into glory along the black and grey hull. The six engines glowed vivid blue/white as the ship departed the dock and entered orbit independently for the first time.
“The Imperial Navy Dreadnaught 01, the Revenge. His brothers, I.N.D 02, the Requite, and I.N.D 03, the Reprisal, are being launched from their graving docks at my shipyards at Uranus and Jupiter Stations Each vessel has docking racks for two Fisticuffs class destroyers. Together, they form our first Task Force and will patrol our colonies. Within five years, five more dreadnaughts will be delivered from these three shipyards, along with a new class of destroyer.
“In addition, I am expanding these three shipyards and building two more, at Tantalus and Vega. Within ten years, we will have ten dreadnaughts of this class and two dozen destroyers.
“By that time, I expect the next generation of dreadnaughts to be ready to build, along with new destroyers. My shipwrights assure me we will be ready to build out first attack carrier within fifteen years.
“The Galactic Council generously supplied us with the tools we need to protect ourselves. What they did not take into consideration is the extent we are willing to go for our revenge.
I only wish I could live long enough to witness my descendants carrying out my plan…”
Epilog
It was cold. Gods, it was cold. The power in his suit was gone, so he would soon be dead. Hypothermia? Hypoxia? It didn’t matter at this point. The alien was gone from Doctor Boradt’s mind. He was grateful for that mercy.
“Well, small thing, what are you doing here?” Doctor Boradt opened his eyes. A biped stood beside him, dressed in the golden robe and hat that the Guardian wore. “You must be the plaything my Guardian spoke of. Tell me, small thing, was thy Legend what you expected?”
Boradt waved his cilia weakly, unable to speak.” Ah, you are dying,” the being said. It kicked him lightly. His suit came to life, warm fresh air reviving the dying Voudoo.
“Thank you, Lord.” Gasped Doctor Boradt. “No, he was not what I expected. He was a murderer. He killed his own brother. A despot, a dictator. I was wrong; his legacy was one of blood.”
“His legacy,” mused the being. “I am part of his legacy. You may call me the Last, the ultimate of the Terran Emperors. My Grandfather created the line which led to me. I walk the Universe with the other Gods and hold this place safe and holy, for it is the birthplace of Gods.
Would you care to see the true legacy of my founder?”
“I would be honored, Lord.”
Doctor Boradt startled. The room was dark, black as the void.
Illumination rose slowly, revealing brilliant gold walls covered with glyphs and illuminations. Doctor Boradt’s breath caught as he recognized the Law, written in the nearly forgotten original Terran standard. “Behold, the Founder and what he left for us,” said the Last. “The Law of Angkor Khan. The very foundation of society throughout this galaxy. The other Gods have examined it and found it good. It is spreading throughout the whole of the Universe.”
Doctor Boradt raised his antigrav so he could see into the casket.
The Emperor Angkor Khan looked as if he had just fallen asleep. He was wearing the original Rainbow Robe and the black furred hat of the ancient Mongol Khans. In his wrinkled and spotted hands, he held an urn painted with delicate yellow flowers. His grey hair was neatly brushed, as if the hairdresser had just left. Doctor Boradt imagined the hair beneath Angkor’s nose vibrated as he slept.
They were back in the high ceiling chamber once again. The Last was seated on a magnificent throne. “Do you recall the conversation Angkor had with Tenzing months after his son Buru was born? Angkor’s proposal of using rail ships to scatter Terran DNA across the galaxy, seeding it with Terrans to expand the Empire?
“Four hundred million years ago, one of those ships visited your world. The scien
tists found your world suitable for colonization. It took many years to create a lifeform that would survive on Vaudoo. From the day that we planted your ancestors to this day, you have been following the programing we designed within you. You are a descendent of the Terran Empire, the one thousand eighty second seeking to find Terra.”
He steepled his fingers. “I will not kill you, nor will I cause your death. I will instead banish you, safely, to live out your days as you see fit, save you will not do so here. Farewell, little thing. Perhaps one day we shall meet your people walking with us amongst the stars.”
Doctor Boradt found himself floating in those stars. He activated the suit’s thrusters and rotated slowly, gasped as the whole of the Temple Galaxy came into view.
He studied the Temple for an hour, finally determining where Vaudoo was. His home system was an invisible smear of light in the long trailing arm. In the opposite arm, he fancied he could see the dying ember that was the home of the great Empire.
He noted his power and atmosphere indicators were not dropping. He was not an old man, not by any means. Even having an average Vaudoo lifespan, he could expect to live for as many as seventy to eighty years.
There was no question he would not live long enough to return home. He tapped his thrusters until he was looking outward to the trillion sparks of light across the void. Each was a new galaxy. If the Last was to be believed, even now he was walking amongst those galaxies with the rest of the Terran race as Gods.
His cilia twisted excitedly as he pushed the thrusters forward, aiming at a spark he could barely distinguish. Perhaps he might find these Gods…
“Like” us of Facebook: “Tales of the Spinward March” for news, notes and artwork
Coming in Winter 2017:
Tales of the Spinward March, Book 2:
“The Red Queen”
