Imperial Twilight

by Eric Thomson

  “Welcome Dawn Runner and tell them to report once they come out of FTL at the hyperlimit, then contact the abbey, so they know to set up another two hundred and five bunks. I’d also appreciate them interviewing the new arrivals and passing the results on to Major Barca’s analysts.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Was that everything?”

  “Yes.”

  “Morane, out.” He looked up at DeCarde. “There has to be an interesting story behind those four mercenaries and two children. I wonder if they’re connected.”

  “We should leave the kids to the abbey for now. But those mercs? I suggest we bring them here for debriefing. If they’re the wrong sort, I’d rather not take chances. And if they’re the right sort, perhaps they’d like a job with us. If you don’t mind, since tomorrow is a training day for the part-timers, I’d like to use one of Matti’s units as spaceport security when Dawn Runner lands, rather than a squadron of Pathfinders. Though at this short notice, it’ll be A Company. They could use the practice.”

  “It’s your brigade, Brigid. Deploy whoever you want.”

  **

  “One Niner, this is One Three.”

  Command Sergeant Parmont Rehn’s voice over the A Company push interrupted Centurion Antony Wolf’s conversation with his first sergeant. Both stood by the arrival hall’s inner doors watching as their soldiers funneled the newcomers through immigration before shipping them off to the abbey.

  “One Niner.”

  “We’re facing a bit of a situation outside. The four mercenaries are refusing to be separated from the children. They’re armed and stubborn.” Rehn was a Lyonesse native with no military experience beyond serving in the Rifles ever since it was the embryo of a colonial militia with one officer, twelve troops, and half a dozen scatterguns.

  “On my way. One Niner, out.”

  Wolf nodded at his first sergeant and crossed the hall to the tarmac doors, which opened at his approach. He immediately saw four men wearing the sort of black tactical clothes favored by private security operatives since time immemorial. They were clustered around two small children, neither of whom could have been older than ten.

  A section from Rehn’s Third Platoon stood at a respectful distance, weapons pointing downward while Rehn himself faced a large man whose features were seamed by decades of hardship. Their stances were relaxed, though an undercurrent of tension remained.

  The man caught sight of Wolf.

  “Finally someone with pips on his collar — no offense, Sergeant, but if your orders are to take the kids from us, then this is the man I need to speak with. And if he can’t countermand orders, then it’ll be your colonel.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  The mercenary’s grin was friendly enough.

  “I’m not a sir. I used to work for a living when I was on active duty.” He turned to Wolf and opened his mouth, but the only words that came out before his voice died off were, “Now then, Centurion… Wait a minute. What the hell is going on here?”

  Wolf came to a sudden stop as recognition dawned in both men’s eyes.

  “As I live and breathe. First Sergeant Hartwood Cahal, nicknamed Woody, F Company, 2nd Battalion, 77th Imperial Marines, isn’t it?”

  “Aye, and you’re Antony Wolf, formerly of C Company, 1st Battalion, who retired here when the 77th bugged out. What are you doing wearing centurion’s pips and strange unit badges? Farming didn’t suit?”

  The men spontaneously reached out and grasped each other’s right forearm in the traditional Marine Corps greeting between comrades.

  “Long story, Woody. Welcome to the Sovereign Star System of Lyonesse. For my sins, I command the Lyonesse Rifle Regiment’s A Company, based here in Lannion. Our regiment is one-half of the defense force’s ground pounder element. Remember Matti Kayne?”

  “Sure.”

  “It’s Lieutenant Colonel Kayne now. He’s my CO. And his CO is Colonel Brigid DeCarde formerly of the 6th Battalion, 21st Imperial Pathfinder Regiment which makes up the other half of our ground element, called 1st Brigade. These strange badges are our regimental and formation crests.” Wolf pointed at the green flag with the gold, double-headed condor flapping lazily in the breeze above the spaceport entrance. “And that’s our flag. We quit the empire.”

  “Did all you guys who retired here join this new military outfit?”

  “Yep. Like I said, long story. Now tell me about the two wee ones. Why are you refusing to let them go with the Brethren? Our abbey is a safe place, full of good, kind people.”

  “It ain’t the abbey, Tony. Your sergeant here says we need to come with you for a debriefing at Lannion Base, which I guess is where we used to hang our helmets back in the day.”

  “It’s now the Defense Force HQ and home to the local garrison.”

  “Look, I don’t mind going to the abbey, but I swore an oath to their mother I’d personally see them safe. Maybe your people can debrief us there.”

  Wolf thought for a moment.

  “Here’s what I propose. We’ll drive you, your men, and your charges to the abbey where you can see that they’re taken into care by the Brethren, then you come back with us to the base. Deal?”

  Cahal scratched his chin before slowly nodding.

  “Now that I know who’s running the show around here, I guess I don’t need to worry as much anymore. Lieutenant Colonel Matti Kayne, eh? Ain’t that a kicker? Okay, Tony, you got yourself a deal.”

  “Let me call our ops center and make sure they know. Sergeant Rehn, see that Woody and his party go through immigration, then run them up to the abbey in one of your troop transports.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And Woody…”

  “Yeah?”

  “If you and your guys want a steady job, the defense force is recruiting. We will consider anyone who can provide a copy of their service records for enlistment at their previous rank.”

  “Got any private security companies around here?”

  “Only rent-a-cops and that’s not your style. The admiral won’t allow anything else, especially not mercenary units.”

  “Then take us to your recruiting office after we sort everything out. Three squares and a cot still beat the alternatives.”

  **

  “Captain Korax.” Morane stood and came around his desk, hand outstretched. “Welcome to Lyonesse and Lannion Base. I understand you asked permission to stay on the ground for an indeterminate amount of time.”

  The two men shook.

  “Aye, Admiral. If you don’t mind. With darkness and evil spreading over the galaxy, it’s been a physically exhausting and spiritually draining nine months crisscrossing the sector, hunting for survivors. My crew and I would do any penance asked of us for a few weeks of calm and contemplation among our brothers and sisters.”

  Morane waved him into one of the chairs in front of his desk.

  “Would answering the questions of my intelligence section’s analysts be considered proper penance? We’re pretty much cut off from the rest of humanity here, which is both a blessing and a curse.”

  “We’d be glad to.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “The Four Horsemen are abroad, Admiral. Dendera is scourging rebellious star systems with what is known as the Retribution Fleet. Since she lacks the strength to retake and hold breakaway sectors, she’s giving individual planets the choice to either submit and lose all spacefaring capabilities for an indefinite length of time or resist and return to the Stone Age forever. Some of her admirals take the slightest hesitation in deciding as a sign of resistance and wreak incalculable ruin on peaceful societies.

  “It’s madness on a scale never seen in human history. We picked up four security consultants, two children, and five Brethren on Mykonos after it suffered a relatively minor bombardment, thanks to its government essentially dissolving, but they bore witness to the awful destruction that comes even with the meekest of submissio
ns. It has since suffered a second attack, erasing most signs of advanced civilization. Why we do not know. Sadly, Mykonos isn’t alone. Millions of souls are crying out, and I fear the worst is yet to come.”

  Suddenly, Korax seemed ancient, as if his short monologue aged him by a century.

  “I won’t guarantee you and those you rescued will be entirely safe here — we arrived just in time to help beat off a barbarian raid. But I doubt Dendera will waste what are surely dwindling resources on punishing an almost forgotten star system. If she’s at the point of destroying what can’t be retaken, then we’re approaching the end.”

  “That is my assessment. I pray for the Almighty’s mercy that he won’t send us back out there. We escaped certain destruction more often than I care to remember.”

  “I’ll put in a good word for you, but I’m not sure the Almighty listens to the likes of me.”

  A weak smile softened Korax’s ascetic features.

  “Every little bit helps.”

  “You mentioned four security consultants and two children. What’s the story?”

  “Another sad one in a universe replete with them. Perhaps you should speak with their guardian, Hartwood Cahal. He’s a strong, honest man, loyal to a fault, a retired Marine first sergeant. I believe he would gladly give his life to protect his charges, orphans who saw their father executed and mother taken to an unknown fate.”

  “Then I will speak with him. My troops have orders to bring the mercenaries here for debriefing.”

  Korax smiled again.

  “I hope they approach the matter with tact. Cahal won’t allow himself to be separated from the children. I’ve observed his behavior aboard my ship for the last few months. No king or emperor ever enjoyed a more devoted bodyguard.”

  “Well, if he’s a Marine, this Cahal will feel at home among us. It should help gain his trust.”

  Korax fought off a yawn and lost.

  “My apologies. Now that I no longer need to worry for my ship, crew, and passengers, my spirit is calling for immediate rest.”

  “Then I won’t detain you any longer. A staff car will take you to the abbey.” Morane paused, pondering the wisdom of his next question. “Can I make a proposal concerning Dawn Runner?”

  “Let me guess. You’d like to take her into naval service.”

  “Only until you or the Order need her again. Starships are built for a zero-gee, airless environment. Sitting on the ground, in an oxygen-rich atmosphere, inevitably speeds up aging. I could put a naval crew aboard and add her to the rotation as picket at the wormhole terminus, thereby relieving some of the pressure on my own four ships. It means reducing the size of the existing crews by a few each, but without the rigors of interstellar travel, we’ve come to realize the ships don’t need a full complement.”

  “If you promise to take good care of her, she’s yours until the Almighty calls for us to venture out again.”

  — 47 —

  Yotai

  Marta reared up in her chair with a suddenness that startled Jacelyn Bram.

  “Madame?”

  “I think our ship might be coming.” She raised a hand to the hollow beneath her throat where Heloise’s beacon pulsed with an otherworldly warmth. “Don’t ask.”

  “A good thing we had time to fill our bags. When do we leave the palace?”

  “Not yet.” Marta couldn’t explain to herself why she knew there would be a delay followed by a different signal.

  “Should I ask for a car?”

  After a moment’s thought, Marta nodded.

  “If you can do so without raising alarms.”

  “Good point. I’ll go downstairs and speak with the motor pool noncom in person. If I ask nicely, he’ll keep it off the books until we take possession. A little favor between old Marines stuck in this place of perdition.”

  Bram pulled on her tunic and left Marta to contemplate her mysterious connection with an Order of the Void ship via the talisman around her neck. Though she couldn’t allow herself to feel relief until they crossed the event horizon of a wormhole leading away from Yotai, Marta nonetheless allowed her spirits to rise. The atmosphere in the palace had taken on an eerily dark edge in the last forty-eight hours, as if a menace was hanging over them.

  Five minutes after Bram’s departure, a familiar sensation pricked the edge of her consciousness. One of mortal danger. She only needed a few seconds to remember it from the day of Heloise’s murder.

  Zahar had finally convinced Custis she was expendable. And right before her escape.

  The main door to her apartment opened without warning, and once again, the heels of military boots rang out on the foyer’s marble floor. Moments later, Zahar, accompanied by two Marines, burst into her office.

  Marta rose to her feet and glared at him with eyes colder than a miser’s heart.

  “What is the meaning of this, Admiral?”

  “You’re under arrest for treason. Do not try any of your tricks on me. These men are under orders to shoot you the moment I suffer from anything whatsoever — vertigo, headache, or seizures. Besides, this time, I’m ready, so good luck piercing my barriers.”

  “Treason? Surely your mind can’t be that addled. How would I betray my own empire? A judge will laugh you out of court.”

  “It won’t come to that, I can assure you. Regent Custis has declared an emergency. There will be no trials. Especially not for someone who, as our security services finally discovered, works for Dendera and has been impeding the war effort.” When he saw realization dawn in Marta’s eyes, a smile oozing pure evil twisted Zahar’s mouth. “Yes, Milady, that’s right. Your services as a figurehead empress are no longer required. I shall now enjoy executing another witch.”

  The same knife he’d used to kill Heloise appeared in his right hand as if by magic.

  “Don’t make this hard on yourself, Milady. You had a good run. And now, in the name of Regent Custis and the citizens of the Coalsack Sector, you will die for your treachery.”

  Marta probed Zahar’s thoughts but ran up against a solid barrier which would require every bit of energy she could muster to surmount. Then, another, lighter set of footsteps came from the foyer.

  “Colonel Bram, finally.” Zahar kept his gaze locked on Marta. “Come in, please. I was about to impose the penalty applicable to traitors under martial law.”

  Bram slipped into the room and made as wide an arc as possible around the frozen tableau at its center. She’d drawn her personal weapon and held it against her thigh, barrel pointed at the floor.

  “Perhaps you’d like to do the honors,” he said. “Since this creature abused your honesty, your integrity, and your good name as a Marine officer by making you a party to her misdeeds. Execute her, and earn the thanks of the 16th Fleet.”

  Marta glanced at Bram, wondering whether she’d been wrong about her. When Bram met Marta’s eyes, she seemed to plead for forgiveness.

  “I’d be delighted to execute a traitor, Admiral.”

  For a fraction of a second, Marta stared into the barrel of her aide’s blaster and composed herself to meet the Almighty in the Great Void.

  Then, she saw Bram’s aim change. A faint cough reached her ears as a bright dot of light seared her retinas. Zahar’s face turned into a mask of astonishment, then he crumpled to the ground, dead, his brains flash-fried, leaving a stench of burned flesh in his wake.

  “What’s the proper expression for an occasion like this?” Bram asked in a hoarse voice.

  Marta shook herself and answered, “Sic semper tyrannis might do in a pinch.”

  “You’ll need to translate for me, Madame, but not right now.” Bram turned her weapon on the Marines, who seemed rooted to the spot as they tried to process what just happened. “Her Imperial Highness and I face a problem, troops. I just shot your commander for attempting to murder Madame on trumped-up charges. The question is, what will you do now?”

  “Colonel?” The senior
of the two, a staff sergeant asked. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “I have to take her highness away from here in case Zahar has backup assassins lying in wait. What will you do? What were you told?”

  “Sir. Our orders were to escort Admiral Zahar and obey him without asking questions.”

  “If I tell you Zahar was the real traitor, not her highness, what would you believe?”

  The staff sergeant hesitated, his eyes going from the admiral’s corpse to Marta and then to Bram. After a moment, he straightened his back and came to attention.

  “Sir. You’re a Marine Corps officer.”

  Bram nodded once as if his answer told her everything she needed to know.

  “Is anyone aware you came up here with Zahar?”

  “No, sir. This detail was to be conducted under the utmost secrecy. All our CO got was a levy for two Marine noncoms. We didn’t know it was for Admiral Zahar until we reported to the assigned rendezvous point. We sure as hell didn’t know Her Imperial Highness was the target before now.”

  “And if you’d known?”

  “I’m not sure what we’d have done, sir. The last time Admiral Zahar led Marines into this part of the palace, they were posted out the next morning and vanished to a frontier system.”

  Marta raised a hand to attract Bram’s attention.

  “For what it’s worth, he is telling the truth. I sense no falsehood in either of them. But they are scared.”

  Bram bit the inside of her lip, eyes narrowed, before holstering her gun.

  “Okay. Here’s how it plays out. You two will return to barracks and tell your platoon sergeant the mission is over and you can’t talk about it. And if you’re smart, you’ll deny you met Zahar tonight, let alone came to Madame’s apartment with him.”