by Tom Hart
Drake clicked his tongue in admiration. It was a triplex code using a key based on the co-ordinates of the ancient Capital on Vofurion Nineteen. It had taken a full two hours for his naval encryption mod to break the key. This confirmed the computers of the Battleship were still sophisticated by contemporary standards.
The hatch popped open with a hiss of escaping air. He smiled. The ship was pressurised. His HUD flashed. Apparently the life support was still functioning.
He removed his helmet and drew his pistol. No point letting survivors complicate things. The foot long scar on his left forearm was a permanent reminder to be cautious.
Two years ago he’d led a boarding party onto a supposedly crippled Union frigate after the battle of Lafayette Twelve. A crew of Union fanatics remained on-board and used fractal cloaking orbs to ambush Drake and his marines. He was lucky to survive. So no taking chances on strange vessels, especially ones not seen for centuries.
The repetitive tones of a collision alarm echoed along empty corridors but there were no signs of damage on the system status boards. Drake tapped a few switches to shut the alarm off.
No bodies, blood or bones anywhere. Weird. All the escape pods were still in their bays too. He walked across to the two empty chairs set against the rear bulkhead. The weapons console was green. Magazines at one hundred percent capacity. So the ship hadn’t been shooting at anyone. The shields hadn’t been activated either. It was like the crew evaporated. How could twenty-five thousand people vanish without a trace?
The log had been wiped. Well almost. Only the ship’s last known hyperspace departure point remained.
‘The Jastorian System!’ What the hell was worth anything out there? It had the highest levels of radiation anywhere in the Spiral. Not to mention all manner of diabolical shipping hazards and a penchant for generating random gravity waves despite the absence of any black holes for that matter. Even the Royal Academy of Sciences couldn’t explain that one. Drake had seen a gravity wave destroy an entire armada of Union ships and it wasn’t pretty. Anyone would have to be incredibly stupid to venture into the Jastorian System.
‘Display manifest,’ Drake said, returning to the task at hand.
Item 3798 captured his attention. ‘Pay day!’ he yelped.
‘Open comms to channel Zulu Niner Tango Four Zero.’
‘Channel opened,’ the ship’s AI responded.
‘Drake you bastard, what the hell are you doing calling me over an unsecured channel?’
An elderly Vofurion dressed in the uniform of a Marine Colonel appeared on-screen.
The man glowered until Drake sent him a live feed of the cargo bay.
‘Hell’s bells, Drake, how did you get your hands on that? There’s enough to destroy a quadrant sitting there.’
‘Two quadrants actually,’ Drake said with a grin. ‘How much do you think our Shadow Weaver and Union friends will pay for it?’
The old Colonel stroked his moustache and looked thoughtful. It wasn’t every day you had the chance to sell the sworn enemies of the Vofurion people a megaton of anti-matter explosives.
‘It’s a good thing we aren’t hung up on our oaths to our Emperor,’ the Colonel said casually.
‘You always told me there’s more money to be made playing both sides,’ Drake reminded his mentor.
‘That I did my boy, that I did,’ the Colonel replied with a nod.
‘So where are you? Are the explosives secure?’
‘That’s the best part,’ said Drake. ‘I’ll send you the co-ordinates. Bring a company of your most loyal marines and our potential buyers. Oh and don’t worry about the Naval blockade at Vofurion 3. I have a ship which can deal with that easily enough.’
The Colonel looked sceptical. The blockade preventing smuggling between the Union and Confederacy included a flotilla of the Confederacy’s largest cruisers.
‘Trust me,’ Drake said confidently then terminated the channel.
CHAPTER FIVE
PROXIMA CORPORATION
Jastorian System
Planet: 74921X
Technological Rank: Class II Primitive Spacefarers
Prometheus Level: 0 (Uncontainated)
Population: 7 Billion
Chief logistician Harper Lane swore as she read the latest report on the war that had sprung up between the primitive tribes of Earth. Having to reschedule the distribution of drop ships would eat into the consortium's profits.
Anything that ate into profits got the Viceroy's attention and he was not a man known for his forgiving nature. The overcrowded prison moons of Proxima were testament to his distaste for anything adverse to the bottom line, no matter what the cause. She needed to find a way to offset the cost of additional fuel or her team would soon be guests of the Proxima Prison Service, an organisation whose deprivations were legendary for all the wrong reasons.
It was no secret her employer Proxima Corporation secured the deal of the millennium when it purchased the supposedly desolate sector later found to be home to seven billion humans. Harper shook her head in disbelief. Uncontaminated humans too, with no trace of the Prometheus gene. This made the tiny blue orb the most valuable prize in the Spiral.
That explained yesterday's arrival of the Vofurion armada who immediately adopted a defensive posture at the only possible jump point to the system. The Viceroy was taking no chances after the recent merger of the Centauri and Sirius Corporations, Proxima's largest competitors.
Harper tended to find terrestrial matters uninteresting. But this world was fascinating. Its inhabitants had somehow managed to work out how to build fission weapons seven centuries earlier than any other human civilisation on record. That would send the scholars of the Academy of Anthropology back to the drawing board.
Harper's deputy George thought it a little sad a people with such talents were destined for medical experimentation on Proxima Seven. Harper was beginning to feel the same. Especially given the sentimentality they showed towards fossil fuelled transportation despite having developed greener alternatives. As a lover of vintage technology she felt strangely connected to these people.
‘Ten minutes to the next phase shift,’ the speaker above her desk said in an infuriatingly high pitched voice. She hated the Vofurion accent, it was like metal scrapping on glass. But as a native of the Hyperion cluster she kept thoughts like that to herself. If it meant pretending Vofurion's were a culturally sophisticated race, rather than the ruthless mercantile vultures they truly were, she could play the part a little longer.
CHAPTER SIX
LORD AKEMI
Imperial Palace
Vofurion Prime
Lord Hiro Akemi was unaccustomed to being kept waiting by anyone. The Duchess was one of only a handful of people who could waste his time.
Most thought the Duchess beautiful. She had an innocent quality about her, with soft green eyes that might be considered attractive. But she was certainly not to Lord Akemi's taste. The thought of intimacy with a Royal from the House of Elara disgusted him. An Akemi would never mix blood with an inferior breed.
‘You must forgive me Lord Akemi I was pre-occupied with the floral arrangements for the Southern garden.’
Hiro knew she was lying. She made him wait because she could. The Duchess knew nothing about flowers and had no interest in gardening. He knew she rarely ventured outside. His spies assured him the twin suns orbiting Vofurion Prime were incompatible with her alabaster skin.
‘Majesty, I am honoured you made time to see me. How is the re-design of the gardens progressing?’
‘Well,’ the Duchess lied. She had no idea nor did she care.
‘You have a proposal for me Lord Akemi.’ The Duchess pointed to a scroll in his hand.
Hiro bowed and unfurled the scroll. ‘Indeed Majesty, a most promising proposal in my opinion.’
The Duchess glanced at the scroll. ‘Have we not completed extractions in that cluster?’
‘Yes Majesty however, it has come to my attention a rel
ic from the Progenitor Arcanum may be located in that region.’
That got her attention, the greedy witch.
‘Is that so?’ she said trying to sound disinterested.
The Progenitor Arcanum had been lost for centuries. They both knew it carried 70 kilograms of Triglesium at the time of its disappearance. The Royal Treasury held a mere 9 kilograms of the precious substance and the Duchess and her family were the wealthiest and most powerful family in the Confederacy.
‘I was hoping you might combine your fleet with mine to recover it. That area of space is teeming with Shadow Weavers.’
The Duchess knew Akemi's family possessed a formidable fleet, more than capable of dealing with Shadow Weavers. He probably wished to protect it for the inevitable showdown between the Royal Houses of Akemi and Elara.
‘I am afraid the Royal Fleet is occupied with operations in the Gleeshan sector. I will ask Admiral Voron to dispatch a flotilla of frigates to assist you.’ Of the oldest and slowest type she didn't add.
Hiro bowed with thanks in a gesture they both knew was as sincere as an offer of a fair price from a Dragonian tea merchant. Now all he needed was permission for his fleet to pass through Elaran territory to reach the Irikini sector.
The Duchess pretended to deliberate before granting the request. She had enough spies on Akemi's ships to be confident she would find out what he was up to.
‘Has there been any word on the search for my god daughter?’
Hiro lowered his head in an act to appear sincere. ‘Alas your Majesty, despite our tireless efforts we are yet to find her. Rest assured every resource of Proxima Corporation is dedicated to finding the Princess Bria.’
The Duchess pretended to believe it. She doubted a single mining skiff of Proxima Corporation was looking for Bria. It had been years now and a significant portion of her family's fleet were still searching the depths of space for the poor girl. The Duchess prayed she was still alive. She knew the Akemi’s were behind the murder of Bria's father but had no way of proving it. They were too calculating and slippery for that. To accuse a Vofurion royal of a capital crime was a serious thing to do, even for a Duchess. She needed hard proof and so far her spies had come up with nothing.
‘I must apologise, I have a meeting with the Union ambassador shortly.’
‘I wish you a delightful afternoon Majesty,’ Hiro said with a bow. The way he said delightful meant the complete opposite.
The Duchess feigned a smile. ‘Lord Akemi.’
Hiro bowed again and left the garden. The Duchess relaxed, she hated the man. He made her skin crawl.
A handmaiden whispered in her ear. The Ambassador had arrived. The Duchess ignored the message. As a Royal it was her prerogative to be late and she felt like a cup of Draconian tea. The Ambassador was almost as vulgar as Lord Akemi. She would need the boost the pungent tea was famed for.
The cup was inches from her lips when a brightly dressed retainer sat next to her, deliberately bumping her arm, and causing her tea to spill on the seat.
‘Scarlett, you know too much of that tea makes your hair darken.’
Scarlett frowned. Helena was right, even her Physician said the same. The House of Elara was famed for its dazzling red hair. Scarlett's was beginning to turn a light brown, yet another reason for the Queen to be displeased with her youngest daughter.
Helena took the tea from Scarlett and poured it onto the ground. ‘Hey,’ Scarlett protested. Helena merely raised an eyebrow.
Few people got away with calling the Duchess by her first name, let alone confiscating a tea cup from her Royal hands. Ordinarily such an action would leave a person without their head but Helena was a special case. She got away with anything. Being the best friend of a Duchess came with certain indulgences.
Helena was born in the same month as Scarlett to the Queen's favourite handmaiden. The pretty handmaiden became a little too close to a visiting Union military officer, and Helena was the product of a passionate yet brief liaison. She inherited her father's height and stood a half foot taller than Scarlett, while her darker skin stood out like a beacon in the majority pale Confederacy.
Sadly for Helena she never met her father. He survived the second Vofurion civil war, but died in the interwar years saving the Union President from an assassination attempt organised by General Rikoyan, Scarlett's Uncle.
‘I think I will skip the Ball, I am tired of egotistical Duke's and their mundane conversation,’ Helena said.
‘Being egotistical is a pre-requisite for a Duke,’ Scarlett replied with a grin. ‘Besides, I don't recall you being unhappy with your conversation with Duke Montrose at the last Ball.’
‘We didn't talk much,’ Helena said through a smile. ‘We spent our time walking in the garden.’
‘Is that what you call it?’ Scarlett teased.
Helena pretended to be offended. ‘The Duke may not be a conversationalist but he has other qualities. Anyway enough about me. What did the vulture want?’
‘Oh, Lord Akemi. He wants the fleet to go chasing around deep space for the Progenitor Arcanum. Most likely a trap to draw our ships away so he can attack our colonies in the Kalinor sector.’
Helena shook her head in disgust. ‘The House of Akemi, the bottom feeders of the Confederacy.’
‘Unfortunately true, but rich bottom feeders with title granted by the King Principalas, whatever that madman was thinking at the time,’ Scarlett added. The reign of the first Vofurion King had been fraught for the aristocracy and commoners alike, with billions losing their heads.
Helena laughed but looked around to make sure no one was listening. ‘Speaking about the founding King of the Confederacy in such a manner could get even a Duchesses killed. The Invidium Security Forces took heresy seriously. Helena would hate to see Scarlett before the inquisition. Even the King and Queen had no jurisdiction over Invidium. Their obsession with heresy and keeping the faith made them frightening. Thankfully they had the heretic Shadow Weavers to occupy them.
‘Imagine if the Arcanum was still out there,’ Scarlett said suddenly.
‘It's a fable, a bed time story to scare children Scarlett.’
‘But I loved the story as a child. Father would read it to me every night before tucking me in. He would act it out with a silly voice.’ It was a good thing her father was a better King than actor.
Scarlett instantly regretted sharing her memory. Helena never had a father to tuck her in. ‘Sorry,’ said Scarlett.
‘It's okay,’ Helena replied.
‘Imagine what we could do if we found the Arcanum,’ Scarlett said quickly to change the subject.
‘Rid the Spiral of Lord Akemi first up,’ Helena smirked. ‘We could hire every known mercenary and bounty hunter with that money.’
Scarlett nodded thoughtfully. Her family was wealthy but the Arcanum contained wealth beyond imagination, rivalling even the Banking Guild's holdings.
Scarlett felt a chill down her spine. What if Lord Akemi found it first? It was rumoured he kept detailed records of the bloodlines of the aristocrats behind the coup that overthrew the Akemi dynasty ten-thousand years ago. The bloodletting would be severe. No one held a grudge like an Akemi.
Helena raised a projection of the Arcanum on her holo-viewer. The sharp angled vessel with its triple bow was a feat of engineering by contemporary standards. Even the most advanced Shipyards of Proxima 8 would struggle to build a vessel that size.
The Arcanum was still the largest Battleship ever built. Its armour was so thick it was said her designers flirted with the idea of not even bothering with plasma shields. The plasma weapons of the time barely scratched her hull.
‘Even if there was no Triglesium, the scrap value would be worthwhile,’ Helena mused.
Scarlett was horrified. ‘Helena, how could you even think of scrapping such a beautiful ship?’
‘Well I couldn't afford the fuel to run her.’
Scarlett had to concede that point. A ship like the Arcanum needed more fuel
for a single hyperspace jump than the Royal Navy consumed in a year.
‘If you found it would you at least rename it?’ Helena teased.
‘Of course, it would be the Jester, what else could it be?’
Helena nodded, ‘So you want to name the most powerful warship in history after your dog?’
Scarlett nodded in turn as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Helena giggled and waved her arms theatrically, ‘The Duchess Elara solves the greatest mystery in Vofurion history. After missing for centuries she discovers the lost flagship of King Helios, the almighty Emperor Principalas, and promptly rechristens it the Jester.’
‘Perhaps I might name one of its shuttles the Helena if you behave yourself at the Ball,’ Scarlett countered.
‘No chance of that. Besides it's you who needs to let your hair down. You've been so tense since your parents went on holiday to Proxima Five and left you in charge. It's making you neglect your most important duty.’
‘What!’ Scarlett gasped more in anger than shock. She took the administration of the Empire deadly seriously.
‘Finding a husband.’
‘I have no need for a husband,’ Scarlett said firmly.
‘It would get your mother off your back.’
‘I'm only seventy-five. I’ve got centuries to choose a husband.’ Scarlett made a face which Helena knew meant there would be no more discussion of the subject.
Scarlett frowned. She hated it when Helena bought up her lack of a husband. There were no shortage of eligible Dukes and Barons in the Proxima System, all rich, handsome or both. But she had absolutely no intention of letting a husband get in the way of her agenda. Unifying two Empires with a history of one-hundred thousand years of animosity left no time for sentimentality or romance.
CHAPTER SEVEN