Imperial Twilight

by Eric Thomson

  “Aye, aye, sir,” both replied in unison.

  Morane walked over to the operations center’s holotank and touched the controls to bring up a three-dimensional representation of the star system.

  Those ships could only belong to the 16th Fleet, and there was only one reason they’d come this far from the Coalsack Sector’s sphere of control when hell was breaking loose thanks to Dendera’s Retribution Fleet.

  **

  “Five emergence signatures,” Petty Officer Atreus announced, “seven light seconds out. Four Kalinkas, one Coromandel. Still no beacons.”

  With the defense force at full alert, every station in the operations center was occupied, including the spare. Admiral Morane had taken the duty officer’s command chair while Gwenneth, wearing a dark, single piece garment instead of a sister’s robes, sat behind him.

  For the first time in a long time, Morane felt in charge of a fighting force again instead of being a bureaucratic warrior. But he desperately wanted to avoid a battle that might harm Lyonesse’s future.

  An image of the intruders appeared on a secondary display, courtesy of the planet’s geosynchronous surveillance satellites.

  “Paint the Coromandel with our orbital subspace transmitter and demand they open a channel.”

  “What shall I call ourselves, sir?”

  “Lyonesse System Command.”

  The spies undoubtedly took back word of Lyonesse’s unilateral declaration of independence, but it wouldn’t hurt to confuse the intruders’ commanding officer by making it seem as if they might still owe allegiance to Devy Custis. Morane, who wore nothing more than rank badges on his uniform, like everyone else, took one last look around the room to make sure nothing would betray them, such as a double-headed Vanger’s Condor insignia, then composed himself.

  “The light cruiser Savage is responding, sir.”

  “On screen.”

  Seconds later, a tired-looking, middle-aged man with a commodore’s single star on his collar visibly bit back his first words when he saw Morane’s twin stars. Instead, after a brief pause, he said, “My name is Reginus Bryner, sir. I command Task Force One-Sixty Alpha, from the 160th Battle Group, with home port on Yotai.”

  “Welcome to Lyonesse, Commodore. I’m Jonas Morane, this system’s military commander.” He let a friendly smile pull at the corners of his lips. “You’re the first patrol Admiral Zahar sent our way in a long time. It’s good to see we weren’t forgotten.”

  Bryner frowned.

  “I thought this star system declared its independence from the Coalsack Sector, sir.”

  “We made a few political and military adjustments to account for our isolation now that several wormhole junctions no longer under 16th Fleet control separate us from Yotai. However, we remain loyal to Viceroy Custis and I am prepared to take Admiral Zahar’s orders.”

  The frown deepened.

  “Sir, if you’ll pardon my impertinence, but that’s not what my mission orders say.”

  “Really?” Morane’s eyebrows crept up. “If you’re not here on a routine patrol, then what is your objective?”

  “Sir, I’m to find and bring back a person by the name Corinne Ruggero, who was held aboard the prison ship Tanith, probably under an assumed identity.”

  “Corinne Ruggero? As in Empress Dendera’s younger sister?”

  “That’s what they told me.”

  Morane made a great show of turning toward Haller.

  “Major, check the roster of prisoners we decanted from Tanith and see if anyone by the name Ruggero appears.”

  “Already ran it, sir. Negative.”

  “I don’t suppose you know what assumed name she could have traveled under, Commodore?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Hm.” Morane tapped his fingertips on the command chair’s arm. “Tell you what, we’ll send Tanith’s manifest along with a list of every prisoner’s current status. Perhaps you could narrow it down for us because we’ve not come across anyone who claims to be a Ruggero or bears a shred of familial resemblance to the deplorable Dendera. Major Haller?”

  “Sent, Admiral.”

  “Shall I leave you and your staff to peruse it? You’re still a few hours out from Lyonesse orbit. Perhaps we’ll know more by the time you’re here.”

  “Thank you, Admiral. I appreciate your cooperation. Most star system commanders aren’t as amenable these days. May I ask where your ships are? My sensors can’t spot anything other than what looks like a corvette in orbit.”

  “They’re on patrol, practicing the art of concealment. You’ve been under observation since the moment your task force emerged from the wormhole terminus.”

  A light went on Bryner’s eyes and he nodded.

  “Running silent. Nicely done. We’ve not detected anything so far.”

  Morane smiled pleasantly.

  “I find routinely running silent is good training. It toughens crews and forces them to hone their skills.”

  “Agreed, though we don’t practice nearly as much as I’d like. Thank you for the list, sir. If there’s nothing else, I won’t take up any more of your time. Hopefully, we can call back with a few possible names under which Corinne Ruggero might be hiding.”

  “Hopefully. Until later. Morane, out.”

  When the image faded, Morane slumped in his chair and exhaled.

  “Wasn’t that fun?”

  Someone out of visual range started clapping, and within seconds, the rest of the duty crew joined in. Morane turned around to see DeCarde enter from the briefing room.

  “That was quite a show, sir. I knew you were a bullshit artist, but your performance surpassed our expectations.”

  “Our?”

  “Didn’t I tell you? Your entire command staff watched from in there, hoping to receive an education in the finer points of messing with an opponent’s expectations.”

  Gwenneth, a tired smile on her lips, stood to stretch tense muscles.

  “Brigid is correct. It was a fine example of talking instead of fighting.”

  “Just keep in mind this isn’t over. We don’t yet know what he’ll do once he realizes no one can help him find Corinne Ruggero for the simple reason she isn’t in this star system and never was, at least not alive. Neither Custis nor Zahar will be gentle with Bryner when he returns empty-handed, not if I’m right and Custis wants Dendera’s sister as a figurehead for his own breakaway empire.”

  “Fat lot of—”

  Petty Officer Atreus interrupted DeCarde with a muffled curse.

  “Someone is trying to force a transmission through the subspace node using override codes.”

  “From where?”

  “The routing tag shows it as coming from the speaker of the council’s office, and those are Mister Hecht’s codes. Good thing we suspended the overrides.”

  Morane’s features turned to stone. Could Hecht be so stupid as to throw the game out of spite?

  “Lock out all communication satellites. Nothing leaves the surface.” He touched the controls in the duty officer’s chair.

  “Barca here, sir.”

  “Someone’s playing silly bugger in the speaker’s office and trying to contact the incoming 16th Fleet ships, Major. Send a troop of your finest, stat, and arrest whoever that is.”

  “Will do.”

  Morane saw Atreus raise a hand to attract his attention.

  “Yes?”

  “The silly bugger is talking as if he doesn’t realize the node’s not letting him through.”

  A familiar and annoyingly nasal voice came through the control center’s speakers.

  “Hello, unidentified starships, I am Severin, Count Downes of Hallibrank. This is a warning. Lyonesse has declared itself independent of the empire and the Coalsack Sector thanks to a deserter called Jonas Morane. Beware his treachery. He is the sworn enemy of both the Crown and Grand Duke Custis and will try to destroy you with an underhanded stratagem. Many o
f my compatriots and I were held against our will aboard the Imperial Prison Ship Tanith and have been maltreated since arriving here. We need rescuing from this vile nest of dissident scum.”

  Morane slammed his hand on the chair’s arm.

  “That’s it. He’s for the Windy Isles before dawn.”

  “I’m sure Adri can arrange it, sir,” DeCarde said. “A troop from the security company is on its way to Lannion.”

  “PO, connect me with Speaker Hecht.” Who will join Downes in the Windies if he was in any way involved, Morane silently swore.

  A minute passed, then Atreus said, “I have him, sir. He’s at his residence.”

  “Not in the office?”

  “Unless Mister Hecht is better at hiding his communicator’s routing than anyone else I know.”

  “What do you want, Admiral?” The speaker sounded like a man rudely awakened from a deep sleep.

  “Why would Severin Downes be trying to call the newly arrived starships from your office, Rorik, using your codes? A good thing I ordered the subspace node overrides suspended. Otherwise, who knows what trouble he might cause? A troop of military police is on the way to your office and will place Downes under arrest for treason against Lyonesse. I’ll see that he heads to the Windies once a court finds him guilty. Now give me a reason why I shouldn’t charge you with dereliction of duty. The override codes we gave a select few on Lyonesse were not to be shared with staff, let alone ordinary citizens. How did that idiot Downes get a hold of yours?”

  Silence greeted Morane’s diatribe. Then Hecht replied in a tone fraught with anger.

  “He must have filched them. Listen, Morane, I may be guilty of many things, including letting my ego interfere with good administration. I am not, however, a complete idiot. You and I still disagree on major issues and always will. Yes, I still resent the way you made your point in the vault, and yes, I’ll hold a grudge against you to the grave. But I’m a man of Lyonesse, loyal to my birth planet and my star system. I would never open it to outside attack.”

  “You know we’ll investigate, right?”

  “Understood. I’ll throw myself on Governor Yakin’s mercy in the morning and take responsibility for Downes getting unauthorized access to secure governmental facilities. If she decides my time’s up, then so be it.”

  “That is your choice. In the meantime, I’m taking control of all communications satellites, not just the subspace nodes. Once our visitors leave, we will discuss who exercises control in the future.”

  “Trying to turn Lyonesse into a military dictatorship, Morane? That’s not what it sounded like when you were offering me — what was it again? A cask of Amontillado?”

  “Don’t push your luck, Rorik. Morane, out.”

  He slumped back in his chair and sighed. When he noticed the duty crew’s furtive looks, Morane realized they’d overheard everything. Wonderful.

  “Folks, that discussion between Speaker Hecht and me doesn’t leave this room.”

  “Of course, sir,” Haller, replied. “Everyone here gets that.”

  Their vigorous nods didn’t give Morane much comfort his conversation with the hapless Hecht wouldn’t become gossip fodder. The man wasn’t popular. But there was nothing for it now.

  “Open a link with Vanquish.”

  “You’re connected,” Atreus announce a few moments later. Iona Mikkel’s face swam into view on a secondary display.

  “Working an ops duty shift, Admiral?”

  “Needs must when the devil drives.”

  She chuckled.

  “Now where did I hear that before? I listened in on your conversation with Bryner. Nicely played. If he came here ready to fight, you threw him off kilter.”

  “My problem is I don’t know what he might do once it becomes clear we cannot produce the person he’s looking for. His superiors aren’t likely to tolerate failure and that is worrisome. When his ships cross Gwaelod’s orbit, I want Vanquish and Vanquish alone to go up systems. Myrtale is to stay silent, though I want you and her to track the Coromandel class cruiser on passive fire control. If Bryner decides to fight, we’ll get one chance at a first shot.”

  “Who calls it?”

  “I do, Iona.”

  She nodded.

  “That’s what I figured. Here’s to hoping we don’t expend ammo.”

  “From your lips to God’s ear.”

  “Did you ask the Brethren for help? Maybe they could spend the next few hours beseeching the Almighty on our behalf.” She caught sight of Gwenneth and waved. “Hi, Sister.”

  Morane gave his former executive officer an exasperated look that was only half feigned.

  “It doesn’t work that way, and you know it.”

  Mikkel repressed a grin.

  “Since the good sister is at your side, we should be okay. I’ll wait for your order to fire. Was there anything else, oh commander of the faithful?”

  “A bit of respect for my stars if you can’t respect the man wearing them?”

  “I’ve always held you in high regard, Skipper. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have followed you to the back of beyond in the forlorn hope of staving off the long night.”

  — 50 —

  An hour later, Petty Officer Atreus stuck his head in the briefing room where Morane was enjoying a quiet coffee with DeCarde and Gwenneth.

  “Sir, Commodore Bryner is asking for a link.”

  “Coming.” He drained his cup and glanced at the sister. “Time for act two. Shall we?”

  DeCarde raised a clenched fist. “Knock ‘em dead, Admiral.”

  “Thanks.”

  Moments after Morane took the duty officer’s chair from Major Haller, Commodore Bryner’s face materialized on the main display.

  “Hello again, sir. My staff and I went through your list of Tanith prisoners and compared it to the one they gave us. Both match perfectly. Since we can provisionally rule out the known nobles, the criminals you kept incarcerated, and those who were killed in the Parth system, we’re left with one name, a Taylar Noe, marked as deceased.”

  Morane turned to Haller. They’d expected this development, and she was prepared.

  “Imperial household servant. Condemned for embezzlement. She died because of a stasis pod malfunction at some point during the trip, but we only found out when we tried to decant her. The body was overripe by then. Cremated and ashes scattered since there were no relatives to claim them.”

  “Seems rather convenient, sir. If you’ll pardon my skepticism.”

  “What can I say, Commodore. These things happen. If you want to interview the former Tanith prisoners, I’ll gladly welcome your landing parties and facilitate their work. We have nothing to hide. The simple fact is, Corinne Ruggero was never aboard that prison ship.”

  An air of indecision crept across Bryner’s seamed features.

  “Sir, my orders are to return with Corinne Ruggero or with irrefutable evidence of her death. You’re not giving me much hope of doing either.”

  “Wouldn’t recorded interviews with the former prisoners be evidence?”

  “Except for this Taylar Noe, sir. She’s the problem. Without proof she wasn’t Corinne, I have nothing to satisfy Grand Duke Custis or my admiral.”

  “And the punishment for failure would be severe, so you can’t just go back empty-handed based on my word.”

  “That’s the extent of it, sir.”

  “What pressure tactics were you told to use?”

  A pained expression replaced Bryner’s earlier indecision.

  “I’m to threaten the destruction of your knowledge vault.”

  “Are you aware of what it represents?”

  When Bryner shook his head, Morane launched into an impassioned explanation and saw the man’s expression change as he grasped the vault’s significance and what it would mean to lose it.

  “The chamber itself is beneath almost a hundred meters of granite and encased in starship-grade alloy.
Destroying it would require a kinetic bombardment of sufficient intensity to eradicate everything within a hundred-kilometer radius and potentially cause a rift in the planet’s crust. Half a million humans would die.”

  “Then I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. My crews wouldn't allow me to imitate Dendera’s Retribution Fleet and wipe out entire populations even if I were inclined to commit genocide, which I’m not. Too many of us lost relatives and friends on worlds subjected to her vengeance.” He sighed. “Nor will my senior officers want to face Admiral Zahar and report failure.”

  “An unpleasant dilemma,” Morane said in a sympathetic tone. “I don’t envy you.”

  Bryner let out a soft snort.

  “Perhaps I should turn rogue and offer my services to the highest bidder instead of going home.”

  Morane smiled. “Now that you mention it…”

  “I beg your pardon, sir?”

  “You’ve seen what’s happening out there, Commodore. What chances do you give Custis for holding on to the sector and keeping it from collapse and ruin? How many ships has he sacrificed on the altar of his vanity? And more importantly, how long do you expect your ships and crews to survive even if you suffered no penalties from returning empty-handed.”

  Bryner didn’t immediately reply, but understanding seemed to dawn in his eyes.

  “Stay here. Join my command. Lyonesse is just about the safest star system in this part of the galaxy. No one crosses interstellar distances in hyperspace anymore, and since we have only one wormhole terminus, no one will randomly pass through looking for a chance to raid. The last bunch to come here deliberately hoping for cheap spoils suffered one-hundred percent casualties in the space of a few hours.”