Conquests & Consequences

by Lee Watts

  Disgusted, Balin switched off the screen. Used to the thinly-veiled propaganda of IBS, he was certain they were trumped up charges and the Marquis was less a spy and more a patriot. The thought encouraged the gruff old soldier.

  "At least somebody in the palace is taking a stand," he said aloud to himself. Balin smiled for a moment, but it quickly faded as he realized there was no way the Ramillie would let the Marquis hold a rally decrying their oppression and atrocities. They would storm in on the pretense of riot control or something and the Marquis would either be killed or arrested. In a way, it all worked to the Ramillie's benefit. The show of force would only serve as a warning to silence those who dared speak out. Disgusted with the situation, Balin spun his chair away from the desk and stared out the large window at the floating rocks of the Oosay asteroid belt he now called home. He hated hiding, hated being only reactionary, and was disgusted that another good man was going to fall for taking a stand against the Ramillie. The more Balin thought about it, the more dissatisfied he became. Considering his options, he knew there wasn't much he could do about it… not much, but there was something.

  CHAPTER 32

  "…Who am I, that I should go unto Pharaoh, and that I should bring forth the children of Israel out of Egypt?" – Exodus 3:11

  "There are thousands of people out there, Marquis," announced Nathan's assistant. Nathan was reviewing his speech before going onto the plaza's balcony.

  "Thousands?" Nathan asked in surprise. "Perhaps it's a lynch mob," he chuckled with half a smile, not sure if it was a joke or not. "Are there security enforcers?"

  "Yes, but they're not taking any action."

  "I wonder how long that will last?" Nathan retorted. "If they start to move in, I want you and the rest of the staff to evacuate immediately."

  "We won't leave you, Marquis."

  "I insist. Someone has to keep the voice of resistance going, and if we're all locked up, who's going to do it?"

  "There's The Remnant."

  "The Remnant," Nathan breathed the words with a distant look. "You haven't been able to contact them?"

  "They don't exactly have a listing I can look up."

  "I know, it's just… they're the only people out there doing anything."

  "You're doing something. You and all those other Councilors who walked out with you - you're all making a statement."

  "A statement yes, but we need to start making a difference."

  "I think you've already started," his assistant replied with an assuring smile then left the Marquis alone to collect his thoughts before addressing the throng.

  "I thought he'd never leave," came a familiar voice. Nathan spun to find Salazar standing in the doorway.

  "What are you doing here, Regent?"

  "That's hardly the proper way to greet a visitor. I expect more from someone renowned for his gentlemanly manners. You will excuse me for dropping in unannounced, but I thought you might need some help."

  "Help?"

  "Indeed. I think you'll find you've misjudged me, Nathan. I'm not really such a bad sort. I want what's best for the Realm the same as you; we merely have differing opinions on what that is. You don't realize what a help I can be."

  "I don't want your help."

  "I'd think you would be more appreciative of someone with your islands' best interests at heart."

  "Islands? The Estradas? What are you planning?"

  "I'm not planning anything. Why would I plan something against the people of Enty? It's my homeworld too after all. However, there are... others in the Hegemony who would have no compunction about causing an accident."

  "What sort of accident?"

  "The sort where a garbage freighter full of radioactive waste malfunctions. Instead of flying into the sun it crashes - scattering radiation all over that beautiful tropical island chain of yours. It would be a waste to ruin such a lovely place. Oh, and your relatives live there too. I'd hate to see the horrible effects such radiation would have on them."

  "You can't do this!"

  "I'm not doing anything, and if you know what's best for you and for your islands, then you won't do anything either. You've a crowd out there waiting for you. I suggest you apologize for giving them the wrong impression then reassure them of your loyalty to me and the Hegemony. Apologies can accomplish much, as long as they're convincing and can go a long way in preventing… accidents. The crowd grows anxious Marquis Matthews, and we all can't wait to hear what you have to say," Salazar quipped then left.

  Nathan wanted to pummel the Regent. Stepping toward the balcony, he peeked from behind the curtain. If anything, the crowd was larger than he expected, but so were the number of security enforcers.

  Faces, old and young, gazed up at the balcony in hope. Each was searching for someone to lead them from this dark time. Instinctively looking over his shoulder, Nathan checked for the person who these people were waiting for. All he saw was an image of himself in a mirror.

  "Not me," he commented dismissively to the reflection. "You've got the wrong man."

  His likeness stared back blankly, neither figure willing to accept the responsibility. He was going to protest further but realized what he was doing. Conflicting loyalties pulled at him. It was his duty as a Councilman to put the people's interests above his. On the other hand, the people of the Estrada Islands were more his people than anyone; how could he say something that would, in effect, ensure their deaths. He debated, changed his mind a dozen times, and prayed for wisdom. Ending his communion, he strode onto the balcony. His speech discarded, he had no idea what he would say.

  Cheers erupted from the crowd as they caught sight of him. At thirty-four, Nathan felt too young to have such responsibility and unworthy to be the one looked to, but so was his destiny. Spreading his hands to quiet the crowd, he smiled broadly upon noticing some were waving the, now outlawed, blue and white banner of the Realm. The colors reminded him of the lapping of the ocean waves against his island home. As the crowd quieted, an unseen spirit whispered to his mind how these shouts of joy would be cries of terror on Estrada if he dared speak against the Ramillie. His smile left him as the assembly awaited his words. He had to save them; he had to protect his family. Salazar had won, and now Nathan had to... make it convincing.

  "Fellow citizens," he began, noticing the security enforcers paying close attention to him. "We gather here today safe, safe from the Chinix…" He paused, his words sounding hollow to his own ears and piercing his soul. Hesitating, he scanned the crowd's faces. His eyes fell upon an old man in a hoverchair. It was a military veteran wearing a faded uniform from the time of the Arthbril War. His grandfather served in that conflict and remembered the stories he would tell. Nathan stared across the street at the building where now the red and gray tribal symbol of the Hegemony lorded above everything. Looking back to the old man, he could see only the image of his departed grandfather and wondered what he would think of him now. Lost in introspection, the crowd stirred in the awkwardness of the silent moment.

  "I'm sorry," he restarted solemnly. "I'm sorry because many of you have come with the wrong impression. Many believe since I am… was a Councilman, that I can help you. I cannot. I know you're looking to me, to the Council, to anyone in these trying days. Many say, 'when I'm a little stronger, then I'll do something, then I'll take a stand.'" His tone began to increase in intensity. "I ask you, shall we gather strength by inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance against our oppressors by lying on our backs and clinging to the phantom of hope things will work out? We have given so much away that our enemies now bind us hand and foot. They tell us we are weak, and without them we are defenseless. I say we are not weak if we make proper use of those means which the Elder has placed in our power. The billions of citizens such as us are invincible by any force which an enemy can send against us. Besides, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just Elder who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for an
d with us."

  Nathan's passion poured from him as he addressed the crowd. Certain of his imminent arrest, he threw himself wholly into what little time he had left.

  "There is no peace but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged, and we helped forge them! Their clanking may be heard on the streets of this very city. Those who honor the Charter, or declare the ways of the Elder are now imprisoned for the very right of expression once guaranteed us. I tell you we have not peace; the war is already begun! No one will give us our freedom back; we must take it! Why stand we here idle? Now is the time for action! Rise up, and let us cast off our oppressors! LONG LIVE THE REALM!"

  "LONG LIVE THE REALM," echoed the crowd exuberantly. They began chanting the refrain, but their voices were almost immediately drowned out by the blaring sirens of the security enforcer vehicles. Red armored Hegemony troops rushed the crowd from all sides, lobbing gas grenades to disperse the "criminals."

  Among the erupting chaos, Nathan noticed a squad of Ramillie troops running toward his building. Knowing if they caught him, he'd not survive long enough to serve a prison sentence, he sprinted from the balcony. With soldiers ascending the stairs and knowing better than to take the elevator, there was no way to get down, so he did the only thing he could think of, go up. Heart pounding and adrenalin surging, he burst onto the flat rooftop. Desperately he searched where to go next. Each adjacent building was more than ten meters away, far beyond his ability to jump. Rushing to the edge, he looked over in hopes of finding a fire escape or other means to the ground. Seeing none, he rushed toward the other side, but halfway there, the Ramillie soldiers stormed onto the roof. Throwing himself behind the boxy cube of an air-conditioning ventilator, he wondered if the Ramillie saw him. Pounding blasts of laserfire slamming against his covering quickly answered that question. Suddenly, the shots stopped, and he knew the Ramillie must be coming to apprehend him. Unarmed, he looked to the sky and uttered a simple plea of desperation.

  "Little help?"

  Immediately, a mighty gust of wind knocked him to the ground. There was a deafening roar overhead, and something blocked out the sun. Wind whipping furiously around him, he looked up and saw a massive starship hovering no more than twenty meters above him. Red lasers lanced up at the vessel, but the Ramillie's rifles were ineffective against the thick armor plating. A bottom facing door parted open, and scores of thruster-packed soldiers dropped out with weapons blazing streaks of blue light. Six soldiers made rapid descent to the roof as the others split in other directions. Before even landing, the newcomers eliminated the Ramillie rooftop squad. With military precision each of the airborne troops landed with weapons sweeping, scanning for any sign of resistance. Though they were helmeted, Nathan guessed who these soldiers were.

  "THE REMNANT," Nathan shouted over the thunderous sound from the above starship. The nearest soldier nodded.

  "HOW DID YOU KNOW-" before he could finish the question, a soldier wrapped bulky arms around Nathan from behind then activated his thruster pack. Nathan's stomach dropped as they suddenly propelled upward at high speed.

  "AAAHHH," he shouted in a mix of terror and exhilaration. With expert timing, the soldier cut the thrust, and the pair arched gracefully as they entered the bay, landing relatively softly on the deck floor.

  "Welcome to the Dauntless, Marquis Matthews," spoke a blue and white uniformed man.

  Shaken, and disheveled, Nathan took a moment to collect himself.

  "Uh…," he stammered, still winded from the unexpected flight and jittery from the race for his life. Collecting himself, he pulled on his shirt to straighten it. Trying to regain a modicum of dignity, he addressed the greeter.

  "My most sincere gratitude, Sir. Your timing is impeccable. I assume you are the master of this vessel?"

  "Me, no. I'm Lieutenant Colonel Ortiz. Admiral Balin is in command, but he's on the bridge and a little busy at the moment. He wanted me to personally welcome you aboard."

  "Balin? He's alive? It was reported he died defending the Hegemony fuel depot in the Doneac system."

  "Defending it?" Ortiz laughed. "He's the one who raided it."

  Suddenly, the Dauntless bucked and, warning klaxons sounded throughout the ship.

  "What's that?" Nathan asked.

  "Security net," Ortiz yelled over the cacophony of alarms. "We guessed it wouldn't be long before the satellites honed in on us - the only way we got passed them was exiting lightdrive after we were in the atmosphere. Balin guessed they'd get wise to that trick after one trip; you should be glad he hadn't pulled that one yet. Come on, I'll take you to a secure location while we wait."

  "Wait?"

  "Yes, for the others. I don't mean to burst your bubble, Marquis, but we didn't risk this mission only for you. A lot of our people have family here; we're grabbing as many as we can before jumping."

  More blasts from the orbiting security drones struck the ship, but its armor absorbed the energy.

  Hannah raced down the hall of her house, desperately searching for her mother who was bolting their door.

  "Momma! Momma," the frightened five-year-old called. Elsa turned, and Hannah jumped into her arms.

  "It's alright, Baby. We're safe."

  Pressing the child close against her, Elsa tried to calm the girl from the sounds of the sudden battle only a few blocks away.

  "But you said they took Daddy, and they might come for us!"

  Though Elsa knew far too many Elderite families whose homes were raided, and the people dragged off into the night, she'd never heard of the Ramillie raiding in broad daylight.

  "It's okay, Hannah. Momma's got you. We're going to be- AAHH!"

  A rapid, hard pounding pelted their door so loudly Elsa couldn't help but yelp and jump at the sound. Incessantly, the knocker beat upon the door. Frozen in fear, it took Elsa a moment to start moving. She ran toward the far end of the house, not taking time to realize it would only postpone the inevitable by a few seconds. Dashing down the hall to the bedroom, she heard the front door blown off by the sound of an energy blast. As soon as she entered her bedroom, she slammed the door and twisted the thin lock. Almost immediately there was a beating on the door. With nowhere to go, and Hannah screaming, she wept bitterly at the thought of what was about to happen to them. With a powerful kick, the door flung open. In came a helmeted soldier with rifle ready. Elsa held her ground, and her child, clinging to Hannah for as long as she could. Dropping the weapon, the intruder reached up and removed his helmet, casting it aside.

  "IMRE," Elsa cried out, amazed, overjoyed and shocked all at the same time at seeing her supposedly dead husband. He ran to her and embraced his wife and daughter.

  "DADDY," Hannah yelled and threw her arms around her father.

  "Imre how did you-"

  "No time to explain," he said retrieving his weapon and helmet. "We've got to go. Come on," he instructed and hurried back toward the front door.

  "Imre," Elsa pleaded, "let me grab-"

  "Leave everything! There's no time!"

  She nodded and went with him, eyes still full of tears, but now they were for joy. As the Kovacs family rushed from their house, two other Remnant soldiers waited in the yard to aid in the escape. Within minutes, they were on the Dauntless and at lightspeed heading to their new home in the asteroids of Oosay. It was in that remote system where Imre Kovacs hoped to keep his family safe from the grasp of Ramillie oppression. But the Ramillie's reach was ever-expanding, and the next time it came for them, there would be nowhere left to run.

  CHAPTER 33

  "For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: not of works, lest any man should boast." – Ephesians 2:8-9

  During the next few months, Remnant forces intensified rescue operations. Time and again the Elder granted them success, but these came with losses as well. One such casualty was of one of the Remnant's founders, a former school administrator named Hector Silvanus.

  Among those retrieved fro
m the Hegemony prison on Celtis Po was the renowned socialite Vivica Canton, who had supposedly converted to the Narrow Way. However, many noted she evidenced no sign of genuine conversion and lobbied she be relegated to the asteroids where the actual criminals were kept. Knowing Vivica's connections and reputation, Balin was inclined to agree and gave orders to put her with the criminals. No one in the Hegemony knew her location, and the prospect of spending years mining tizanite terrified the woman who had never worked a day in her privileged life. Even when they were shuttling her to one of the criminal's asteroids, she was unweaving in assurances she was loyal to the Elder and The Remnant. Not persuaded, the pilot continued flying. When the shuttle landed, and she looked out on the ore-smudged faces of the orange jump-suited inmates, she offered a fantastic bit of information in demonstration of her loyalty.

  "The fleet?" Balin grunted in shock and disbelief.

  "Aye, Sir," the pilot reported. "Not destroyed, but frozen - trapped in hyperspace. They never did engage the Chinix. Lady Canton says the Regent told her that when the Ramillie dropped their hyperspace shields from around the Realm fleet, they entered a virtual cryogenic freeze. If true, the ships and crews should be completely unaffected when they re-enter normal space."

  Balin looked to Colonel Veltri questioningly.