Imperial Twilight

by Eric Thomson

  Cahal grunted.

  “Let’s hope our overly perceptive storekeeper can keep his mouth shut. Nothing will get Danton’s troops excited like the idea of hunting Void Brethren who escaped Danton’s night of the bloody knives.”

  “I daresay finding traces of Lady Marta and her children might.” She seemed to tense for a fraction of a second and laid a restraining hand on Cahal’s arm as he took his first step toward the cavern’s mouth. “Wait. I think we should stay here for a bit.”

  “Soldiers?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Then it’s best if we pull back as far as possible to foil their sensors into believing our life signs are nothing more than those of whatever passes for gophers on this damned planet.” Cahal turned his head away from the opening and examined the shadows before pointing at a section darker than the rest. “It looks like there’s a branch heading back toward Elis.”

  Moments before entering the natural tunnel, Cahal thought he could hear the characteristic hum of a military skimmer patrolling the river.

  “You called it, Sister,” he murmured.

  — 12 —

  Lyonesse

  Wickham Sanford, Governor Yakin’s secretary, led Morane to Government House’s small conference room. Since his first visit, he’d come to know it almost as well as his own back at the Lyonesse Imperial Fleet Depot, which desperately needed a better name now they were dozens of light years beyond the empire’s outer reaches. Logran and Hecht were already there. As usual, Yakin would show up last, as befit her status.

  Morane nodded at them.

  “Speaker, Chief Administrator.”

  Hecht’s calculating eyes seemed to shine with more than the usual anticipation as he replied, “Captain.”

  “Gentlemen,” Sanford announced in a formal tone from the open doorway, “Her Excellency, The Honorable Elenia Yakin, Governor of Lyonesse.”

  They stood as one when Yakin swept in, trailed by the subtle sandalwood scent Morane now associated with the colony’s reserved, almost enigmatic ruler.

  “Please sit.” She turned a courtly smile on Morane. “And how is the Lyonesse captain general today?”

  “Captain general, Your Excellency?”

  “If we’re to create a defense force from whole cloth, why not revive ancient titles? Didn’t the Imperial Ground Forces resurrect the rank of centurion at one point?”

  “Early in the empire’s history, yes. To replace the rank of Army and Marine Corps captain so there would no longer be any confusion with the rank of navy captain, which is equivalent to that of a ground forces full colonel. Considering centurions commanded company-sized units in another, much more ancient empire, adopting it seemed appropriate.”

  “Then why not captain general of the Lyonesse Defense Force?”

  She appeared to be in a bantering mood, so Morane replied in kind.

  “Because I’m a spacer and not a ground pounder, Madame. The title captain general was reserved for soldiers.”

  Yakin’s lips formed a perfect moue.

  “I suppose that is true, and since you’re about to propose a structure with yourself as senior commander, you must also propose a proper rank designation. Please go ahead.”

  Morane touched the conference table controls, and an organization chart appeared on the main display.

  “The Lyonesse Defense Force will be composed of two operational elements, a naval battle group, and a ground forces brigade. Our naval battle group will include Vanquish, Myrtale, and Narwhal, and any other ships Lyonesse might take into service. Our ground forces brigade will include two infantry regiments, one full-time, and one part-time with a full-time cadre. The 6th Battalion of the 21st Pathfinder Regiment will be our full-time unit. We will keep the regimental title but drop the battalion designation and simply call it the 21st Pathfinder Regiment. The part-time regiment will be formed from the Lyonesse Colonial Militia and, at their request, take the name Lyonesse Rifle Regiment.”

  “No surprise so far,” Hecht said. “Who commands what?”

  “If you’ll allow me, Speaker, I’ll broach the proposed appointments after I finish with the structure.”

  Hecht gave him a grudging nod.

  “Thank you, sir. As you can see from the chart, we will also field a joint support group, responsible for logistics, training, command and control, etcetera. We will create the support group using the Lyonesse Imperial Fleet Supply Depot and elements taken from both the starships and the ground units.

  “I’m withdrawing most of Narwhal’s shuttles and pilots to form a transport squadron based at the depot. Additionally, I intend to cull parts of each ship’s crew and both ground units to form an aerospace defense unit, a logistics battalion, as well as a battle school to provide basic training. That, in a nutshell, is how I propose to organize with what we can field today. The ships will be able to function with reduced crews since we don’t expect them to leave this star system. And the ground units will begin recruiting to increase numbers as soon as the battle school is up and running.”

  “You’re the expert, Captain,” Logran said. “But it seems to make sense.”

  Yakin nodded. “Agreed.”

  “What about cost?” Hecht asked.

  “I can give you the preliminary budget once we finalize our structure and sort out the legal status of the Lyonesse Defense Force, Speaker.”

  “Ah, yes,” a cold smile crept up Hecht’s face. “The legal status. I was hoping you’d broach that subject. And what are your thoughts?”

  He speared Morane with a hard stare that said it was time to repay the Speaker of the Colonial Council for his support.

  “We take the original imperial constitution as our model, sir. The governor is titular commander-in-chief, but the head of the defense force reports to the legislature, in this case, the council.”

  Logran reared up from his usual slumped posture.

  “Now wait a minute. The defense force will be a department of the Lyonesse government, and its commander should report to the chief administrator via the head of public safety.”

  When Hecht didn’t immediately reply, Morane understood the speaker expected him to defend the doctrine of legislative supremacy in matters concerning the armed services. It would allow Hecht to avoid participating in a jurisdictional squabble.

  The next words he spoke would make one man an enemy. If that man was Logran, his enmity would percolate throughout the administration. And if it was Hecht, whose power on Lyonesse transcended that of a speaker, Morane could well imagine the mischief he could cause the knowledge vault project. Even Emma Reyes wouldn’t be able to resist Hecht’s wrath, much less his influence over every facet of Lyonesse society.

  “We cannot afford the mistakes that allowed Stichus Ruggero to seize the throne, Chief Administrator, and thereby suffer the empire’s fate.” Morane kept an even, no-nonsense tone. “The imperial bureaucracy’s encroachment on both the senate’s and the Crown’s authority diluted their control of the Fleet and gave Ruggero an opening. We now know, four long generations later, what the catastrophic consequences are. The Lyonesse Defense Force must report to the legislature, as specified in the original twenty-sixth-century imperial constitution.”

  “I disagree.” Logran glared at Hecht, suspecting the speaker had put Morane up to it.

  “As is your right, Chief Administrator. But to make sure Lyonesse has a future while the empire crumbles, the legislation creating its armed services must specify the council’s supremacy.”

  “If that’s your way of thinking, Captain, then perhaps you’re not the best choice as chief of staff. We should ask that colonel of yours, DeCarde, to whom she believes the head of our defense force should report.”

  “You will hear the same answer from every officer under my command, and from Lieutenant Colonel Kayne and his officers. They understand what’s involved.”

  “By the way, Morane, who or what gave you authority to promote him?�
��

  With Logran veering off on an inconsequential sidetrack, Morane knew they’d settled the point. For now.

  Yakin raised both hands.

  “Speaker Hecht, I expect the council to prepare and pass the proper legislation.”

  “Yes, Your Excellency.” Hecht’s face showed no emotion, but his eyes, when he glanced at Morane, held a spark of triumph. “And now perhaps we can discuss the key appointments? I’m sure our new chief of the defense staff has suitable proposals for our consideration.”

  Morane understood he would get what he wanted, at least while Hecht held sway. But this wasn’t the start of a beautiful friendship. It was that of a patron-client relationship steeped in politics.

  Yet if it meant the knowledge vault would see completion before a fresh wave of marauder raids struck this system, then his conscience would gladly bow to the greater good. The real question was how to mollify Logran.

  No matter how Hecht couched his legislation, Lyonesse’s chief administrator would still exert a certain amount of influence over the defense force’s destiny, and that of the vault. Perhaps even a critical amount. And now he’d earned Logran’s displeasure…

  “Shall we discuss appointments?” Governor Yakin asked. “I take it no one objects to my promoting Captain Morane to the rank of rear admiral forthwith?”

  A pained look briefly crossed Morane’s face.

  “Under the old imperial constitution, promotion to flag rank was subject to a vote in the legislature. Mine should be as well.”

  Yakin held his eyes for a moment, then acquiesced with a nod.

  “Certainly. We should start in the manner we intend to continue and do things in proper form. Speaker Hecht, I hereby submit Captain Morane’s name for promotion to rear admiral. Wickham will draft the letter for my signature the moment this meeting has ended.”

  Hecht bowed his head in what struck Morane as a surprisingly formal gesture.

  “I will present the nomination to a full council vote at the earliest opportunity, Madame. In the meantime, I will take it upon myself as speaker to sanction Captain Morane’s proposal ahead of a formal council vote so he can go ahead. Do you agree, Madame? Chief Administrator?”

  “I do.”

  Logran waited for a heartbeat before shrugging. “Sure. Let’s make it happen.”

  — 13 —

  Mykonos

  Once the sound of the riverine patrol craft faded away, Heloise and Cahal left the cavern and returned to the deep woods after crossing the highway at a spot with plenty of overhead cover from ancient trees. Colyn Skurka intercepted them close to the hide where the others were waiting.

  “Everything is good here. How did things go in Elis, boss?”

  “We bought food for several days, but forget about taking a boat. Guards skimmers are patrolling the Celadon, and they probably have ISR floaters up. Plus, they put a curfew on the area. Murderous bastards aren’t taking any chances. This is a serious cordon, not some half-assed exercise to intercept loyalist survivors just for shits and giggles. Apparently, there’s a call out from Danton to find Lady Marta and bring her in, which might explain the extra activity.”

  “Crap. Are you going to tell her ladyship? She’s already fragile as it is.”

  “Can’t see where I have a choice, Colyn.” Cahal patted his winger on the shoulder. “Besides, I figure Lady Marta is tougher than she looks. Remember, she kept herself and her kids hidden from Danton’s pigs for almost a week before we found them.”

  Skurka nodded. “True. What now, if riding the Celadon is out?”

  “Stay in the forest and keep using animal trails to head west until we’re beyond the Guards’ cordon.”

  “How will we know?”

  An amused expression crossed Cahal’s face.

  “Take a peek at every village, town, and settlement along the river until we find one which doesn’t seem like it’s under a curfew. That’ll be our clue.”

  Skurka grunted with embarrassment.

  “Right. I deserve a slap on the head for missing the obvious. In my defense, beauty sleep is hard to come by these days. When I don’t get enough zees, my brain turns to mush. What about Anders and the others?”

  “We best write the rest of the unit off as casualties and proceed under the assumption we’re the only ones left. If we meet up along the way or in Tiryns — good. If they don’t make it, and we sail into the sunset on our own, I’m sure Sister Heloise and her fellows will join us in prayer for their souls.”

  “You think they might not make it through the cordon?”

  “Could well be.”

  “Why is that?”

  “No Void Brethren to help keep them safe from Danton’s evil.”

  Cahal’s sibylline statement seemed to puzzle Skurka, but after a quick glance at Heloise, he chose to let the matter slide.

  “Shall we inform the others and head out?” Heloise gestured toward a dense thicket where another mercenary, quasi-invisible to anyone without the sister’s heightened perceptions, stood guard. “The sooner we’re away from this area, the better.”

  **

  “They’re looking for me, specifically?” Marta Norum frowned at Hartwood Cahal. “Nothing about Sigrid and Stefan?”

  “That’s what Jed Lormand, the shopkeeper said, Milady. No mention of the wee ones.”

  “Then it probably isn’t because Danton wants to wipe out what’s left of my late husband’s family in this star system. Otherwise, why wait until now to spread the word among the civilian population that I’m wanted? Me, without mentioning my children. He was content enough to ignore us ever since his troops stuck Hachim’s head on a pike.” She paused, then nodded to herself. “Though I can guess why he’s might suddenly be interested.”

  “Milady?”

  Norum ignored Heloise’s warning glance and said, “Perhaps he belatedly decided my bloodline could be useful to him. Or if not Danton, since he’s known about my family tree for a long time, then whoever he now serves.”

  “Viceroy the Grand Duke Devy Custis, according to our friend Lormand. Apparently, Custis isn’t one of Dendera’s fans, which means he intends to rule the Coalsack Sector independent of Wyvern.”

  Understanding sparked in Norum’s eyes.

  “And there’s our answer.”

  “Milady?”

  “I’ll bet Custis is the one who wants me unharmed, not that vile creature Jorge Danton.”

  Cahal let out a soft grunt.

  “Can’t say I understand what you’re talking about and if you’d rather not discuss matters openly, fine by me. Yes, Sister, I caught the significant glance you gave Lady Marta. Whatever it is, I can smell the stinking rot of imperial politics from here, and an honest Marine always tries to avoid getting splattered.”

  “What about dishonest Marines?” Norum asked with a mischievous expression in her eyes.

  “They’re either drummed out of the service or encouraged to join the Imperial Guards. We should be on our way. The Port of Tiryns won’t come to us.”

  **

  “Forget the river, boss,” Skurka whispered. “That old farm transporter sitting by the storehouse should take us to Tiryns without breaking a sweat.”

  Cahal studied the darkened district agricultural cooperative spread out below their hilltop aerie.

  “The owners might object enough to call the damned Guards.”

  “The owners are in bed already and won’t know it’s missing until morning. They sure as shit won’t be able to track it, not with over ninety percent of the planet’s satellite constellation trashed in the fighting. No global tracking system means no way to find the truck except by hunting for it on the ground, and the Guards are otherwise busy these days. Such as making sure no escapee from the Petras massacres can plot against Jorge the Impaler.” When Cahal didn’t immediately reply, Skurka added, “You know you want to, boss. It’ll be tight and dank in the back of that thing, but we’ll be in T
iryns before daybreak.”

  “And I suppose you’ll sweet talk the transport’s AI into letting us steal it?”

  “Me and one of the sisters — Averyl. I’ve been chatting her up during breaks, and one of her jobs at the abbey was taking care of their artificial intelligence array. She’s what you might call a holy programmer.”

  “Try not to confuse the sisters with your usual sort of female friend, Colyn. Besides, the job of liberating that transport is something for a real hacker, not a programmer, holy or otherwise.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure Averyl can take care of herself around our sort. And keep in mind holy programming might cover a lot of sins. The Void Brethren are said to wield strange powers. Why shouldn’t they apply to artificial intelligence as well?”

  Hartwood Cahal could almost see Skurka’s smug smile behind his blank helmet visor.

  “No life signs in the vicinity. I’ll bet they leave that old heap there overnight all the time. We’ve been looking at the area long enough to know it’s not under a curfew. That proves we’re past the Guards’ lines so there shouldn’t be any regular patrols in the area. Besides, it’s a perfect night for a raid thanks to the cloud cover. No moon or starlight to give us away. I doubt we’ll get a better chance of finding transport between here and the coast.”

  “I’ll pass it by Sister Heloise. With Lady Marta on Danton’s most wanted list, she might not want us to rip off a truck and potentially alert the bad guys.”

  “We’re hardly alone in running away from Petras. Besides, the Guards are so full of their own bullshit, they’ll figure no one got through the cordon. Some dumbass officer from the 84th who’d never make it in the Corps will write off the transport’s disappearance as pure thievery and leave it to the cops, who won’t care because they’re too busy bashing heads. Sister Heloise will be game, especially with Lady Marta twisting her ankle when we crossed that damned creek this afternoon.”

  Cahal knew his winger was right. If they could hack into the transport’s controls and drive it off to a prearranged rendezvous, they’d spare themselves another week of walking. If not more, considering Lady Marta’s ankle injury.