The Glory of the Empress

by Sean Danker

  Bjorn had never seen a nanoblade before. He’d heard stories, and he’d seen dramas. Most civilians went their entire lives never actually seeing a real acolyte. And Cophony wasn’t a real one, but he’d come close enough to get his hands on the technology. That was impressive.

  Cophony grasped the newly formed blade by its handle and lowered it to his side without breaking stride.

  Bjorn’s eyes were fixed on the black blade as the man in white approached. It was made up of trillions of nanomachines, all moving together at incredible speeds. It was indestructible. The only thing it couldn’t cut was another nanoblade. Or a force shield.

  This was the weapon that had protected the Duchess and the Heir on Old Earth during the Unification, hundreds of years ago.

  And it was the weapon that protected the Empress now.

  And the only thing worse than the weapon was the man holding it. Bjorn had seen his share of dramas. Like many Evagardian boys, he had once dreamed of becoming one of the legendary warriors himself. Nanoblades had actually been used during the Unification, but these days they were more of a symbol than a weapon intended for combat.

  Bjorn knew that, though just knowing it didn’t make the nanoblade any less terrifying. Mao was going to say something, but this wasn’t the time to talk. Bjorn grabbed her wrist and took off in the opposite direction, pulling her after him. Running was the only option. Cophony wasn’t a young man anymore, but age hadn’t slowed down General Dayal very much—and she’d never been an acolyte.

  Bjorn looked back to see that Cophony was following, but still at a leisurely walk. He almost would have preferred to see this man tearing after them. The confidence in his stride spoke volumes.

  Feeling his heart sink, Bjorn angled toward the nearest hatch. He didn’t know where it led, and it wasn’t part of the route that Mao had planned, but it was the closest.

  He stopped, and Mao pulled free of him.

  “Go on,” Bjorn said, nodding to the hatch.

  “What?”

  “I know what you came here to do,” he said, reaching past her to hit the release. “Go do it.”

  She stared at him. They didn’t have time for this. Bjorn shoved her into the corridor. He shielded his eyes and shot the palm lock, then threw the pistol through.

  Mao caught it, startled, still gazing at him as the doors closed.

  “You’re the one who thought I was suicidal,” he said.

  She opened her mouth, but the hatch sealed shut.

  31

  “THE Empress would be proud,” Cophony called out, still coming.

  Bjorn turned to face him. “Do you really think so?”

  “Dying heroically for her glory? I think it’d play nicely with her sense of aesthetics. Is that in fashion?” he asked, taking in Bjorn’s bloodstained EV.

  “It’s not mine. You say it like you’ve met her.”

  Cophony halted about ten paces away. He wasn’t smiling. He just looked tired. “Mao wants to rescue the spy, I take it? Nelson?”

  Bjorn shrugged. “I imagine so.”

  Cophony cocked his head. “But where does she want to take her?”

  “I’m not sure she’s thought that far ahead,” Bjorn admitted.

  “Do you have any idea how much security there is on this station?”

  “No. I don’t. But how many pirates is one imperial officer worth?”

  “I suppose we’ll find out. What’s your name?”

  “Bjorn. First lieutenant, though I’m really just a private first class. 113th Command Section on Genham Station. Immigration Section.” Bjorn smiled modestly. “Analyst.”

  Cophony snorted. “If you give yourself up, he’ll want to get something from you. I doubt you know anything about Everwings that I don’t, so as long as you don’t try to hold anything back, you could be ransomed. You wouldn’t get a very warm welcome back there. But you wouldn’t have to worry about being mistreated, and you’d have your life. That’s the best I can do for you.”

  “I could also be used as leverage,” Bjorn said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder, toward the hatch Mao had gone through.

  “Leverage didn’t impress her much in the case of Major Lucas.”

  “She likes me better than she liked him,” Bjorn told him.

  “Does she?”

  Bjorn nodded.

  “You really don’t mind her just running free? You’ve got time to stand here and talk to me?” Bjorn asked.

  “I don’t care if she reaches that prisoner. She can have her. There’s nowhere for her to go. I know we don’t stand a chance of stopping your fighters, but they’ll run out of fuel and weapons soon. It’s over. Maybe you can convince them to give themselves up.” Cophony pointed the nanoblade at him. “Your pilots don’t need to be afraid of being mistreated. They’ll be ransomed, just like you.”

  “Why did Major Nelson have to be mistreated?” Bjorn asked curiously.

  “She had information. And she wouldn’t listen to reason. Information about you and your crew. Once we have you and your crew, we don’t need information. Try to keep up.”

  “Don’t waste your breath.” Bjorn waved a hand. “I won’t surrender. And neither will the pilots. Obviously. Nothing you don’t already know. Or ought to know.”

  Cophony’s brows lifted. “You want to die that badly? For nothing?”

  “Service Code of Conduct is very clear on times like this,” Bjorn pointed out.

  “This is a special case.”

  “There’s no such thing. The Empress expects me to fight.” Bjorn shrugged again. “No need to overthink it. I appreciate your concern, though.”

  “Your commander can’t see you now. No need to act tough.”

  Bjorn sighed. “How can everyone tell it’s an act?”

  “You think you can fight me?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Do you know what I am?”

  “I’ve heard the word ‘traitor’ thrown around.”

  Cophony nodded. “That’s exactly right.”

  Bjorn rubbed his tender side. “Just because you can’t be fought doesn’t mean you can’t be beaten. Do you regret it?”

  “No.”

  “You will,” Bjorn told him frankly.

  Cophony started forward, face bleak.

  Bjorn bolted. He didn’t look back. Cophony would be fast, but he was still human. Bjorn was younger, and he had the lead. Better yet, the painkillers and stimulants improved his edge. This wasn’t good for his wounds, but as long as he couldn’t feel them, he didn’t care. He didn’t plan to live long enough for it to become an issue.

  He leapt onto a personnel skiff, and looked back at Cophony. The other man halted, but he was alarmingly close. Even an aging man, with acolyte nanotechnology in his body, was faster on his feet than anyone Bjorn had ever seen.

  “I can’t guarantee your safety if you do this,” Cophony said.

  “My safety?” Bjorn said, taken aback. “The man responsible for the deaths of my entire crew is concerned for my safety? Do you even listen when you talk?”

  Cophony pulled the pistol at his hip and fired so fast that Bjorn barely had time to duck. He twisted the throttle, and the skiff shot behind a row of cargo pods.

  Another skiff powered up behind him.

  That settled it; Cophony was committed. He wasn’t going to let security handle Bjorn. Whatever Mao got up to elsewhere on the station, Cophony was one thing she wouldn’t have to worry about.

  That was all Bjorn could do for her.

  He accelerated, wondering where to go. A bullet struck the back of his skiff, and he did his best to make himself a smaller target. The nanoblade had probably been just for intimidation; now that Cophony knew Bjorn wasn’t here to talk, he probably planned to take a more pragmatic approach to stopping him.

  He jerked t
he skiff right, skidding to a halt in front of a hatch and reaching out to hit the release. The doors shot open. He didn’t dismount; he just wheeled around, accelerating as a shot punched through the windshield.

  He throttled up, bursting into the corridor and nearly crashing into another four-man security team. They scattered as Bjorn rocketed past, taking the first turn that presented itself and leaving a lot of paint on the bulkhead as he did so.

  Hatches, viewports, and feeds were a blur as people struggled to get out of his way. Even with the massive casualties that the Everwing assault must have inflicted, the station was still populated.

  Suddenly the tight corridor was gone, and Bjorn was skimming across some kind of plaza—or not. It wasn’t a massive window to his right; there was simply nothing there anymore. This was damage done to the station by the Everwings, or possibly by the pirate vessels firing at the Everwings swarming around Perdita. A force shield was maintaining integrity, but the sudden view was stunning in scope, and up close the damage looked severe. From a distance it had looked as though the Everwings weren’t even getting through to Perdita. Here, Bjorn could see that wasn’t the case. The station had been torn wide open; it was just so big that the damage wasn’t meaningful.

  He understood now. When it was happening somewhere else it was just numbers in his ears or data on a feed. It wasn’t real. Up close it was different. When his was the ship that was taking fire, it was different.

  Though he was pushing the skiff as hard as he could, the stars didn’t move. To his left, columns were whipping past at sickening speed.

  Bjorn steered away from the opening. He didn’t need to close himself off; having space on one side limited his opportunities to maneuver. He had to go deeper into the station. He needed options.

  There were stairs ahead, actual stairs. This really was a station, not a ship. Bjorn accelerated, taking the skiff upward without hesitation.

  The little hovercraft crested the stairs, evened out, and took off again. Cophony was gaining, but he wasn’t going to fire irresponsibly with people around; Bjorn was counting on that. Lift doors opened and two women stepped out, saw Bjorn, and leapt back in.

  The bulkhead to Bjorn’s left was abruptly replaced by a railing, and below lay a deep trench. It was a track for a transport. A battle station this size needed a way for people to get around—other than piloting skiffs through the corridors.

  What Bjorn was doing was a slight breach of station etiquette.

  A light appeared, and there was a rush of hot air. A tram was running parallel to the walkway.

  The camera in the rear of the skiff clearly showed Cophony holding his nanoblade out from his side.

  The image brought to mind memories of dramas that Bjorn had seen, fantasies set on Old Earth where men with swords made of solid metal rode animals into battle.

  Cophony could miss a moving target with his sidearm, or hit a friendly.

  But he wouldn’t make a mistake with that blade, if he caught up.

  Another stairway shot past too quickly for Bjorn to try for it. Ahead was a closed hatch. There wouldn’t be time to stop and get it open.

  Cophony was only ten meters back, and closing fast.

  Bjorn had seen his share of dramas. Under the circumstances, his next move seemed like the obvious one. He didn’t know if he would run out of corridor or time first, and he preferred not to find out.

  He decelerated sharply, taking his hands off the controls and planting them on the railing to his left. Bjorn vaulted over, slamming to the roof of the tram and rolling as his skiff struck the wall and flipped to skid down the corridor with a wail of grinding metal. He nearly slipped off the edge of the tram, but he managed to put a cling into his glove and plant it.

  Cophony didn’t hesitate; he rammed his own skiff through the railing and jumped onto the tracks. The blade in his hand touched the wall, leaving a red-hot streak behind it—but a skiff couldn’t possibly keep up with the tram.

  Bjorn rose to a crouch, wondering how long he could stay a step ahead. Mao wouldn’t realistically expect him to keep Cophony off her back for long. Bjorn had only the element of surprise and Cophony’s mercy to thank that he was still alive at all.

  Cophony’s skiff had fallen behind as the tram’s tube curved.

  The tram began to decelerate, and Bjorn got ready to move.

  The boarding platform was larger than expected, with a high ceiling and a large viewport showing the security alert emblem. Bjorn was so used to the alarm that he was barely hearing it. He leapt down as people began to pour out of the tram.

  As he appeared suddenly in their midst, there were screams and startled shouts. People scrambled away in panic as he rose to his feet and started forward.

  As though they’d never seen an Evagardian covered in blood fall from the sky before.

  Bjorn pushed past them, making for the nearest exit—a lift. It wasn’t smart to trap himself this way, but he had to mix it up somehow; security would undoubtedly be looking for a way to cut him off.

  There was a single guard on the platform. He wore a different uniform than the guards scouring the station for intruders, and there was only a sidearm at his hip. He was staring at Bjorn with wide eyes.

  There was a lift at either end of the platform.

  Bjorn nodded to the guard as he passed, stepping into the nearest lift and punching the release.

  The light from Cophony’s skiff was growing brighter in the tube.

  The lift doors closed as the guard seemed to come to his senses, scrambling for his weapon. Bjorn waved as Cophony pulled up, hauling himself out of the tram tube. The carriage began to rise.

  He watched the other man enter the other lift.

  Bjorn folded his arms, returning Cophony’s gaze.

  “This is childish,” Cophony said over the com, startling Bjorn. Cophony was wearing his EV; of course he could open a channel to nearby imperials.

  “I know.”

  “I am trying,” Cophony said tightly, “to think of a reason for you to stop. But I guess you’re going to have your fun, aren’t you?”

  “Might as well,” Bjorn replied. “You could let security handle me.”

  “Then how would I look?”

  “It can’t be worse than how you look chasing me around.”

  “This way I get my cardio.”

  “At your age the PT requirements are pretty lax.”

  Bjorn hit the release and stepped out of the elevator. A woman screamed and dropped a cup of coffee. A guard a short distance down the corridor pulled an alarm and raised his scattergun. Bjorn grabbed the woman and pulled her in front of him, hearing Cophony swearing over the com. He held her close, keeping her between him and the man, who couldn’t risk the shot.

  Bjorn finished counting down from five. He pushed the woman away and dove back into the lift, pressing himself to the side of the carriage and calling up the highest level.

  Cophony appeared as the doors closed, his nanoblade materializing in his hands.

  Bjorn’s stomach dropped, but the lift rose out of danger before Cophony could slice his way inside.

  “This is childish,” Cophony snapped over the com.

  “Admit it,” Bjorn said, leaning against the side and gasping for breath. “You’re having fun too. What would you be doing if I wasn’t here? Sitting in a bar? Placing bets on the Baykara stuff? That’s what galactics do for fun, right? What do you have going on that’s so much more important?” He looked up; the shaft seemed to stretch away into eternity. The station probably had over a hundred decks, and Bjorn was headed for the very top. Security couldn’t cut him off; he could stop anywhere, and they couldn’t cover everything.

  But they could take control of the lift. Bjorn grabbed Mao’s data crystal, yanked the panel off the lift console, and connected it. The override did its work in seconds, and he disab
led the carriage’s remote operations. No one could interfere with it now.

  The console was connected to the station’s network, and that gave Bjorn an idea. He glanced down at the other lift. Cophony’s head was bowed, and his hands were behind his back. Acolytes were always doing that in dramas. In between ridiculous, unnecessary sword duels with their nanoblades, usually. Bjorn had always wondered why.

  He accessed his suit’s interface and called up his personnel locator. It was currently tracking Mao, and her signal was moving. But Bjorn wasn’t interested in her. He made the last of his alterations and looked up. It wasn’t far to the top. He pulled the emergency release, and the lift halted.

  The hatch hissed open, and Bjorn stepped forward—but the corridor shook violently, and his feet lifted from the ground. It was the artificial gravity; one of the fighters must have landed a potent hit to interrupt the gravity drive’s cycle. Bjorn didn’t have time to think; he saw that Cophony’s lift was drawing even with his. He groped for something to hold on to so he could push off to get moving.

  Having no gravity wasn’t going to stop him, not now that he actually had a plan.

  Gravity returned in a rush, yanking him painfully to the deck. Swearing, Bjorn picked himself up and staggered into the corridor. He took the first turn he saw. The people he saw were techs, and there were racks with suits and tools. Ahead, a massive hatch was open, and two more techs were there, staring at him.

  Bjorn ran straight at them; there was no changing course now, for better or worse. The men scattered, and Bjorn made for the open hatch. Whatever was beyond seemed somehow dim, but there was also a powerful glow.

  He stumbled through, onto a wide catwalk. Bjorn felt a sudden sickness, an intense vertigo as he saw what yawned beneath his feet.

  The chamber stretched out endlessly in every direction. He was in the center of Perdita. Massive golden globes of aether a hundred meters across were suspended in neat, perfectly ordered racks that seemed to shoot down into the dark. The globes produced the only light in the chamber, but it was plenty to see by.