Graveyard of Empires

by Lincoln Cole

He didn’t care anymore about the stupid trip. He’d just been punched in the gut and had more important things to deal with.

  Was this why they’d agreed to the trip? Were they trying to keep him away until they could get verify that she was his child? Was this all part of an elaborate plan?

  Get ahold of yourself, he chided himself. No sense jumping to any crazy conclusions just yet.

  “We’re going on a missionary trip to spread the Word,” he explained, distracted. “We leave in a few hours, so pack your bags.”

  “I’m not sanctioned to leave the Ministry grounds,” she said. “I can’t go anywhere until I’ve been cleared.”

  Wade waved the concern away. “It’s been handled. I know you need a chance to get away from the Ministry for a while, and I need a bodyguard.”

  “Weapons?”

  “You still aren’t allowed to have any,” Wade replied, “and I’m not even going to try and fight the Minister on that one.”

  “How am I going to serve as a bodyguard if I am unarmed?”

  “I’m allowed pistols and blades. I’ll give them to you as soon as we are off world.”

  “Fair enough,” Vivian replied with a nod. “So what are you going to do about your daughter?”

  “I don’t know,” Wade replied, biting back his fear. “But she can’t stay here. She was supposed to have a normal life away from all of this.”

  “Her mother must know. She hasn’t contacted you?”

  “I told her not to reach out. I contact her.”

  “Maybe you should,” Vivian said. “And find out what went wrong.”

  Argus bit back his annoyance. Of course he was going to contact Samantha and find out what had happened. “I’ll do that,” he said, forcing his voice to sound amicable.

  “They will implant her within a month. And then her education will start.”

  Wade winced, unconsciously touching a long scar under his chin. It had long since healed over, leaving little trace that it had ever been there, but it was still noticeable when he turned his head.

  It was the only scar he couldn’t hide with clothes: a slip from an overly rambunctious teacher.

  No child deserved to go through that.

  Especially his child.

  “I’ll send her away,” he said.

  “Where would you send her that the Minister cannot find her?”

  “I don’t know,” Wade said.

  “The Minister won’t allow it, not if he knows she is yours.”

  Wade knew that was the truth. If Abigail exhibited the genetic traits sought by the Ordo Mens Rea, then she would be kept at the Ministry because of her value to the Ministry as a servant and possible soldier.

  And if the Minister knew who her father was, then she would be held out of spite. Argus Wade and the Minister didn’t really see eye to eye on a lot of issues, and Givon Mielo was always looking for a way to diminish him.

  “One problem at a time,” Wade decided. “I still have a few hours before my ship is loaded and we can leave the planet. I’ll think of something.”

  “What about Darius?”

  Wade furrowed his brow. “What about him?”

  “I heard he gave a speech on Tellus. Riled up the population; he’s planning to start a rebellion. He wants to bring down the Republic.”

  “He’s a rabble rouser.”

  “You know as much as I do what he’s capable of,” Vivian said. “It won’t be long before he has an army at his disposal. Especially with Maven and Alyssa working alongside him. Those two are dangerous.”

  Wade shrugged. “It isn’t my problem.”

  “The Minister still thinks you helped them escape.”

  “Then the Minister is wrong,” Wade said. “I warned Darius against leaving. And I sure as hell didn’t want him to start his own private war. What does he think he can accomplish? There are always rebellions. At least, four were started just last week.”

  “Not like this,” Vivian said.

  “Exactly like this,” Wade countered. “They crop up, fester, and are crushed. One Capital ship can bring down an entire Sector, and we have thousands. There is no chance of Darius succeeding, so why would I help him escape and risk myself in the process?”

  “So you aren’t planning on joining them?”

  Argus hesitated. “So that’s what this is about?”

  “I know you.”

  Heat rose in his cheeks. “You think you know me,” he replied, “because we’re friends. But don’t pretend like you understand my mind.”

  “You were close with him,” she said. “He looked up to you as a mentor, and you helped teach him.”

  “That doesn’t mean I’m responsible for his mistakes,” Wade said. “I know my place, and I’m content with my lot in life. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some actual problems to deal with without you lecturing me.”

  Vivian nodded. “I’ll gather my things and be at your ship in three hours.”

  Wade didn’t reply but instead walked away. His hands were clenched and he felt anger. But, just as much, he was terrified. He was afraid of what would happen to his daughter, but he was just as afraid of what would happen to him when the Minister found out he’d been hiding her from the Ministry.

  Best case scenario, they would just kill him.

  Most likely, however, things would be far worse.

  3

  Two hours had passed and Wade had nothing to show for it.

  He sat in his study—it was a plain gray room with a desk stacked with forms and data pads—and listened to the silence. His palms were sweaty, and he couldn’t seem to get enough air into his lungs. He’d felt lightheaded and weak ever since Vivian told him the Ministry had found his daughter.

  It was an intractable problem, something he’d always known was possible but believed couldn’t happen. His stomach was upset, and he was fighting back panic as he thought out possible solutions to his problem.

  Potentially, he could refuse his daughter admission to the Ministry. He had that authority. She would be sent home, but that would generate a report directly to the Minister and it would have Argus signing off on it. That would be as big a red flag as Wade could manage to raise, and the Minister could easily overrule his decision and recall Abigail.

  He could also fabricate an illness for her, which would have her sent to the hospital for treatment, but that would be just as ill-advised. Best case scenario it would buy him a few days’ respite while they ran tests on the young girl. She would end up here anyway, and the Minister would again have a report on his desk when they found out she was fine.

  In fact, virtually anything he did would generate a report that would get him killed.

  He pushed the worry aside, trying to calm his mind down. He turned to the stack of minor problems on his desk that had been piling up over the last few days. Forms he had to sign, requests to fill, hundreds of little problems that were easier to manage: flowers for the funeral of an important Aristocrat, coronation ceremonies for new buildings that were requesting Ministry presence at their coronation. He signed a few forms and let out a deep sigh.

  “I don’t know what to do,” he mumbled, rubbing his face with his hands.

  As if on cue, there was a ping on his communicator.

  “Yes?” he asked, clicking it on.

  “The Hummingbird is ready,” Gary said on the other end. Gary was one of the Ministry mechanics and one of Argus’s oldest friends. A regular guy; something rare to find here at the Ministry.

  “Okay,” Wade replied. “I’m on my way.”

  He clicked off the communicator and leaned back in his chair. He was out of time, and there was nothing he could do except wait it out. Maybe the Minister wouldn’t find out that Argus was Abigail’s father.

  He hated the idea of what they would do to her here at the Ministry, but there was no way he could stop it without making it worse.

  He grabbed a few datasheets off of his desk—the pressing issues that couldn’t wait while he was
away—and headed out the door. The halls were empty. Most of the students were in class this time of day, learning about the galaxy or their place in the universe. With their rich and important parents, that place was high on the food chain.

  Most of them didn’t even know Argus Wade or the Ordo Mens Rea even existed. They didn’t know about the beatings or the implants or the ones who didn’t survive training. They didn’t know about the odd manifestations members of the Order could create that couldn’t be explained.

  They saw the Keepers, sure, but they had their own stories for what had happened to them and why: bad students who angered the Ministry, heinous criminals being given a second—albeit brief—chance at life. The children at the Ministry who weren’t members of the Ordo Mens Rea didn’t have a clue that some of their students wandering these halls were different.

  Argus hated them.

  He passed a group of girls clustered around a classroom, giggling to themselves.

  The sound of a choir singing hymns spilled out of another doorway. Argus couldn’t help but grind his teeth.

  Argus found himself in the hangar, still absorbed in his thoughts and feeling lost and confused about what he was going to do. He was usually good at compartmentalizing, but this was too much.

  He could go about his day like nothing was wrong and pretend he was happy. He could blend in, pretend to be normal. But this was the first time he had to face the idea that he might be out of time. This might be the end of everything.

  He pulled out his communicator and dialed a number. It wasn’t saved into the device, but one he had memorized for just this occasion. The call was answered almost immediately on the other end.

  “Thank God you called,” a woman said immediately. Wade winced. He could tell Samantha had been crying. “I’ve been worried ever since they took her. What are we going to do, Argus?”

  “I don’t know,” Wade said. “I wish I knew, Sam. How did they find her?”

  “The tests,” Samantha replied. “They administered them at her school, but they didn’t tell us it was going to happen. I didn’t know or I would have kept her home that day.”

  Wade rubbed his face. “Do they know?”

  “About us? No. They never even asked any questions. They just came while we are at home having dinner and took her. I…I would have called but…”

  “I know,” Wade said. If she had communicated with him on an unsecured line the Ministry would have discovered their relationship immediately.

  He heard Samantha start crying again. “Wade…”

  “I’ll look after her, I promise.”

  “Will they…Will they hurt…?” she couldn’t complete the question, but Wade knew what she meant. She’d seen his scars.

  “Yes,” he replied. “It’s part of her training.”

  The Hummingbird ramp was open and waiting. He saw Gary appear at the top, a rag in hand. The mechanic waved and started walking toward Argus.

  “Listen, I have to go.”

  “Wait? Can’t you just send her home? Or away? Anywhere but there.”

  “I can’t. If I do, they will kill both of us and they will still find her and bring her back to the Ministry.”

  “Then send her somewhere outside their reach!”

  “Nothing is outside their reach,” Wade replied.

  “Sir,” Gary said, nodding as he approached.

  “Listen, I really have to go. I’ll call you as soon as I can,” he said. Then, lower he added, “I love you.”

  He hung up as Gary got closer and slipped the communicator in his pocket.

  Gary was old and freckly with a receding hairline and large eyes, and Argus had never seen him without gray coveralls and carrying one tool or another. He was a good man, someone that Argus really respected and enjoyed being around. They often talked about ships and mechanical work.

  But right now Argus didn’t want to talk to anyone. “Not now, Gary.”

  “Something wrong, sir?”

  There was no way Argus could explain anything that was going on to Gary. “No. Never mind. What do you need?”

  A data pad stuck out of Gary’s pocket. He rubbed his hands on a rag, then pulled the pad out and flicked it with his finger. “The ship had a thorough washing and is loaded. The engine looks to be in top shape.”

  “Good. The crew?”

  “Your pilots are already on board. One is from Sector Six so he’s also your guide,” Gary said. “Guy named Jack. Other one’s an ass, and I didn’t catch his name. The soldiers are prepped, and they’ll need to be picked up off of Denigen’s Fist on your way.”

  “They aren’t being dropped off here?” Argus asked. Protocol dictated that the warship delivered them to the Hummingbird personally, not the other way around. It wasn’t an inconvenience, exactly, but it could be seen as a slight to the Ministry or Wade. A more prickly man might be offended that the Captain—

  “Captain Schmidt died this morning. Denigen’s Fist closed all operations until after his funeral. No ferries running so they can’t get the soldiers out here like they are supposed to. You’ll have to pick them up if you still want to take them.”

  “Dead?” Argus said, frowning. “He was fifty-eight, wasn’t he?”

  “Seventy-three, sir,” Gary replied. “Sickly for years.”

  Seventy? I remember his inauguration ceremony. I didn’t realize he was so old. Argus swallowed and shook his head. I didn’t realize I was that old. “God grant him mercy,” he prayed.

  “God already did,” Gary said with a chuckle. “Guess he went peacefully in his sleep. When I get that sick, I’d want some of that mercy, too.”

  “He was a good man.”

  “Wonder who will get sent up as the new Envoy,” Gary mused.

  Argus shrugged. “No one, most likely. Envoy’s serve for life when they join a Capital ship. Portia Nace is the Envoy aboard Denigen’s Fist.”

  “Oh,” Gary replied. “I thought they went out when the new Captain came in.”

  Argus shrugged. “Sometimes. If the Captain and Minister die in battle, then the new Captain sends out a request. Hell, once a Captain sent his onboard Minister into combat to die just so he could get a new one. Kind of barbaric, so they made a new dispensation to work around that in unusual situations.”

  “So they could kick Portia out of they wanted to?”

  “Well, not exactly. Portia would need to be dead, and she’s only in her forties, so that isn’t likely to happen.”

  “Or they have to ask.”

  “Yeah, and that looks bad on the Captain since the Envoy is the spiritual leader of the ship. If that does happen, a Captain can specifically choose his Minister.”

  “Ah, so they ask you to send them someone. Doesn’t matter who.”

  “Basically,” Argus said. “We can’t really refuse because Capital Ships are essentially sovereign planets, apart from the rest of the government. If they request someone, then that person ceases to be a part of the Ministry and can do whatever they…”

  Argus trailed off.

  “…want?” Gary offered helpfully. Argus didn’t even notice.

  “Gary, I need to go,” he said suddenly.

  “What’s the rush?”

  “I have to send a message,” he said. “A very, very important message.”

  He didn’t wait for a response but took off for the ramp to his ship. He could send the message from his Captain’s quarters.

  There is precedence for it, he told himself. Captains have complete and total authority over their ship, so if the Captain wants something it happens.

  Captains didn’t usually last very long. It was a cutthroat world with a lot of competition and high stakes, but the reward was almost inscrutable power. They were autonomous entities, capable of enacting justice on behalf of the entire galaxy with few repercussions.

  A great many of them were trigger happy lunatics, bordering on paranoid, desperate to prove their value to the ruling Aristocracy and First Citizen.

 
Captain Schmidt hadn’t been like that. He was a good man, fair and honest. A good peacetime leader. He chose Portia Nace as his Envoy, making her the religious leader of his ship. That made her the embodiment of the Ministry, and thus God, equal even to the Minister himself while aboard Denigen’s Fist. Portia was friendly and matronly, prone to overindulgence and long-winded sermons.

  If the Captain did want to remove Portia without killing her, there was a special request that had to be made. It was, essentially, a wartime edict, but one which Argus could fulfill personally. They would send Portia home and request a new Envoy.

  And the only catch…the only requirement was that the new Envoy was a member of the Ministry.

  Like his daughter.

  It was unheard of, but not entirely. One of the greatest Ministerial Envoys in history, credited with spreading the world to two thousand and twenty heathen worlds, became a ship’s Envoy when he was seventeen years old. His life was shrouded in rumor and exaggeration, but the root facts were incontrovertible. It happened a thousand years ago, and he also wasn’t six years old like Abigail, but it meant it was possible.

  Argus could sell the idea to the new Captain by saying he would have the opportunity to groom a new Envoy to the position. Acclimate her to the ship over time and have a true champion of the faith that the crew would come to treasure.

  Argus pressed the button to open the door to his chambers, at least thirty times in his haste. He fell into the chair in front of his terminal and it flickered to life. He didn’t know which Captain was slated to inherit Denigen’s Fist now that Schmidt was gone, but he could worry about that later.

  He began composing a message, addressing it simply ‘Captain.’

  It is with the greatest pleasure that I am able to offer my congratulations on your promotion. I regret, however, that I must be as blunt and direct as befits your position and rank.

  I am aware that the current Envoy onboard the Denigen’s Fist is Sister Portia Nace, an excellent and superannuated woman. However, it is my duty to ensure that the continued operation of Denigen’s Fist is both satisfactory and beneficial to the Ministry as well as yourself. I would also like to inform you that, should you wish to discuss a possible replacement for the Sister, I might have a more than adequate option…