Imperial Echoes

by Eric Thomson

  “What was that?” Fenrir asked as he joined them behind the wheel while his first mate secured the ship from action stations.

  “I was telling Horam you and your fellow captains might consider trading distance for safety by using the other passages until the Saqqaran pirate problem is sorted.”

  Fenrir rubbed his chin, the shotgun in his left hand forgotten.

  “Well,” he drawled, “this one was worse than the attack that put three of my crew in your hospital, Sister. Much worse. Without your warning, our railguns, and Friar Horam’s military training, things wouldn’t have ended well.”

  “And the pirates will adapt. Today’s survivors will make sure their people use different tactics the next time a Theban ship enters these waters.”

  “They lost a lot of men.”

  She nodded once.

  “True. But we don’t know how many of them salivate at the idea of capturing an ocean-going vessel crammed with trade goods and, for Hatshepsut, modern technology such as it is. I would feel happier if our return voyage was through another channel, one without a recent history of pirate attacks.”

  “That’ll cost extra on the charter.”

  “The priory would rather pay for another week at sea than for the burial of four Brethren.”

  Fenrir inclined his head.

  “Point taken, Sister.”

  “And,” Horam said, “if it weren’t for our ability to snipe at their boats from a distance with your railguns, they’d have made it over our gunnels. Thankfully, those boats were rather low in the water by the time they reached us, and their crews were more than a little damaged.”

  “Aye. Point taken as well, Friar. It’s a shame we can’t yet talk with our home port and warn other ships headed for Aksum that the Central Passage has become too dangerous. Unless...” He gave Rianne a speculative look.

  “Yes. We brought a pair of shortwave radios so we can contact the priory in case of an emergency. I think this qualifies. Let me warn Sister Hermina, and she’ll speak with the shipping authority.”

  “Tell me, Sister, would you have thought of doing so if I hadn’t brought it up?”

  “Yes. Perhaps not at once, but within the hour. You must excuse me. I’m still a little out of sorts.”

  “Understandable. If you’ll excuse me in turn, I must see that we leave this place pronto.” Fenrir nodded once, then headed for his first mate, who was re-organizing the watches so they could hoist as much canvas as possible.

  “You’d have called home without his suggestion, all right.” A sly smile crept across Horam’s face. “But you wouldn’t have told Lars, would you?”

  She shrugged.

  “At this point, I’m not sure I can answer that question honestly, but yes, I would most certainly have warned Hermina on my own.”

  “Do you need help getting below deck?”

  Rianne took a few tentative steps, then shook her head.

  “I’m fine, but after the evening meal, it’s to bed until morning. I never boosted forty minds at once before today.”

  “And this one thanks you for the effort. Calmer spirits are more apt to hit the target. If not for our engaging them at extreme range, we would have suffered more than just one casualty. Though they’re solid men, my fellow railgunners aren’t Marines, capable of keeping their wits about them while facing three times our number in drugged-up savages screaming like the souls of the damned. This channel must be placed out of bounds until someone cleans up the pirate problem. And with no nation on Hatshepsut fielding a Navy, it’ll probably wait until our people set up a military outpost here.”

  “Which will take a decade or two. I’ll warn Hermina now. There’s nothing we can do for ships already at sea, but it might offer the Thebans added impetus to move ahead with building a radio network and equipping their ships. The government hasn’t been overly enthusiastic at diverting the resources.”

  Horam winked at her.

  “Not enough potential for graft.”

  “Cynic.”

  “Realist. The Thebans are no worse or better than any other politicians and bureaucrats throughout the ages. Besides, graft has always been omnipresent in one form or another. Even back home on Lyonesse.”

  “Sadly.”

  She gave him a vague wave and vanished down the aft stairs.

  Horam rounded up the railgunners and checked their weapons, power packs, and ammunition stocks before chatting with them informally about the battle. It was a habit he’d picked up when he wore the Republic of Lyonesse Marine Corps uniform with command sergeant stripes on the sleeves and led a Pathfinder troop. All three were still keyed-up, their synapses firing at high speed, but Horam knew they would hit a sudden wall within the next hour or two, certainly the moment Aswan Trader left the Central Passage.

  After ensuring the weapons were back in their cases and the used power packs rigged to their solar chargers, Horam knocked on Rianne’s cabin door.

  “Enter.”

  He pushed the wooden panel aside and stuck his head in. She was sitting on the bunk, one of their shortwave radios in her lap, a tired expression lining her face.

  “Any luck.”

  She shook her head.

  “No. Either no one’s listening back home, or I’m not getting through.”

  “Try again after sunset. Shortwave radios work better at night, and if nothing else, it’ll be late enough in Thebes that the duty Friar will be in the main office and capable of hearing your call.”

  Rianne put the radio on the bunk and stood.

  “Is the end of the channel in sight?”

  “Not yet, but it’s widening, or at least that was my impression just before I came below deck.”

  “The sooner we’re away from this evil place, the better. The effort of dealing with its oppressive aura is becoming increasingly difficult in my weakened state.”

  “Since I also feel it in an attenuated fashion, for once, I can imagine what it’s doing to you.”

  She grimaced at him.

  “In which case, it must affect the crew as well, though they know it not.”

  Later, when the sun was kissing the western horizon, all four Brethren stood at the stern and watched the last Saqqaran islands drop away on either beam. The barquentine, a full suit of sails aloft, had entered the Aksum Sea and turned her prow several degrees to starboard.

  Rianne let out a soft sigh and smiled at Horam.

  “The evil aura is fading away; praise the Almighty.” Then, a frown crossed her tired features. “Now that it’s not blotting out everything else, I can sense the crew’s dismay. Slaughtering so many Saqqarans will leave a mark on their psyches. Whether it heals is up to each individual.”

  “The Void giveth,” Horam intoned, his right index finger raised up.

  “The Void taketh away.”

  A new voice joined them at that moment, Captain Fenrir, who’d heard them reciting the Order’s overriding mantra and stepped over from his side of the binnacle.

  “Blessed be the Void.” He inclined his head. “And its servants. Without Friar Horam directing the railguns, we surely would have fought on this deck and perhaps lost lives of our own.”

  The former Lyonesse Marine grinned.

  “I’m always happy if I can send blackened souls into the Infinite Void where they can no longer harm the righteous, sir.”

  A smirk appeared on Fenrir’s tired-looking face.

  “Remind me to never piss you off, Friar. But am I mistaken in believing the Order’s Rule forbids taking another’s life? I thought you religious types were pretty scrupulous about the sanctity of life.”

  “Usually,” Sister Rianne replied. “But the Almighty allows exceptions, such as when we face evil, especially one trying to kill the innocents around us.”

  “Then I should take a closer look at this faith of yours that so many of my sailors are embracing.” />
  “I would be glad to teach you, Captain. But right now, I’d be even gladder for a warm meal and a comfortable cot.”

  At that moment, the galley bell sounded, and Fenrir chuckled.

  “Your first wish is granted, and the timing for your second is entirely up to you. But the Aksum Sea is usually calm at this time of year, so the night should be peaceful.”

  “When will we arrive in Mazaber?”

  “The day after tomorrow.” He waved at the aft stairway. “I won’t stand between you and supper. Enjoy.”

  — 23 —

  ––––––––

  “This is Hatshepsut’s star, alright, sir.” The flag combat information center’s officer of the watch glanced over his shoulder at Commodore Gatam Watanabe. “Repulse’s navigator is one hundred percent sure. It matches what we found in the old imperial star catalog and what Colonel Torma’s prisoner recorded in his log. Now to find the planet itself. The information in the navigation database is just as spotty and out of date as that on the previous star systems.”

  “Thank you.” Watanabe swiveled his command chair to face Torma and Ardrix, sitting at their accustomed stations behind him. “I hope this star system isn’t as depressingly wrecked as the others we crossed. Whatever did your man — Keter, was it? Whatever did he find to trade with those poor wretches?”

  Task Force Kruzenshtern had stopped at almost a dozen inhabited planets on its way, brief tours in orbit so they could scan the surface and search for traces of human activity. They also visited another two dozen airless worlds that, according to the records, once boasted artificial habitats. Of the latter, they found nothing more than faint traces.

  The visits added a couple of weeks to the outbound journey. But neither Watanabe, nor Torma, nor anyone else in the formation could resist the allure of checking on how the rest of the former empire fared two centuries after the Great Scouring. It left them wondering why the Hegemony hadn’t sallied forth and reclaimed those star systems yet.

  “Artifacts from imperial times, precious alloys, books which survived the Great Scouring, things of that nature. Items mainly of interest to collectors who no doubt paid well for both the items and Keter’s silence.”

  A frown creased Watanabe’s forehead.

  “Isn’t collecting imperial artifacts without a government license illegal?”

  Torma nodded.

  “It is, but those wealthy enough for such a hobby can buy their way around licenses, sir.”

  “I see. And what happened to the things your man brought back?”

  A grimace.

  “I ordered them warehoused until a judge rules on their disposal once Jan Keter has been tried.”

  “And found guilty?”

  “That’s a foregone conclusion, I’m afraid.” The grimace widened. “Though I suspect many of the items will go walkabout while we’re out here, with the inventory list adjusted accordingly, and I’ll be informed I should ignore any discrepancies. Not by my superior, mind you, but via backchannels. Should I not comply, I would quickly become ineffective as an investigator with doors slammed in my face and resources quietly withdrawn.”

  Watanabe’s frown became a scowl.

  “Does that happen a lot?”

  “More than those of us who hold our duty to the Hegemony sacred would like. We play a delicate balancing game in the Commission and either quickly find the uncrossable lines in the sand or perish.”

  “And here I thought you folks were omnipotent, capable of bringing anyone who violates Hegemony laws to a swift and merciless justice.”

  A bitter smile replaced Torma’s earlier grimace. “You’d be surprised how many are above those laws, sir.”

  Watanabe scoffed. “Because they’re for the little people, right?”

  Ardrix inclined her head. “Sadly. But that’s been true in most societies throughout history. If I may ask, how long until we arrive?”

  “However long we take to find Hatshepsut. If you’ll recall, we spent anywhere from six to twelve hours finding the other inhabited planets. Add to that our jump inward, on average twelve hours, give or take two, depending on the planet’s position, and another three or so from the hyperlimit. We’ll likely enter orbit sometime tomorrow morning.”

  The Sister exchanged a glance with Torma, who rose to his feet.

  “Thank you for letting us witness our arrival at Hatshepsut’s heliopause, sir.”

  “Enjoy your last day of peace, Colonel, Sister. Once we get there, it’s your show. You’ll be busier than the rest of us then.”

  “Indeed, sir. But we shall rely on Repulse to find the city Jan Keter’s log calls Mazaber, so we can land there and interrogate the man who sold him the abbey-made medical instruments, a David Crimple.”

  **

  Horam found Sister Rianne standing by the port side rail staring at the Aksum coastline the next morning shortly after sunrise, a steaming cup of tea in hand.

  “Did you enjoy a good night’s sleep?”

  She glanced at him and took a sip.

  “Restful. You?”

  “Once the adrenaline bled off, I slept like a newborn in his mother’s embrace.” He nodded at the broken landscape bathed by the reddish light of dawn, a raw, damaged mess that bled into the Aksum Sea. “Isn’t that where New Aden stood before the Scouring?”

  “Yes. Millions died in a matter of minutes on that unfortunate shore. I can still pick up a faint echo of their fear, anchored as it is to the very granite.”

  “Another of those places that give one the shivers,” Fenrir’s voice reached their ears from the aft stairway. “No one has landed there since. We merchant captains keep offshore as much as possible, but there’s little choice along this part of the coast between the reefs and the sunken starship. The Aksum Sea is not only narrow but shallow around here.”

  He waved toward the east.

  “As you might notice, we can still see the summits of the tallest leeward Saqqara Isles.”

  “Sunken starship?” Horam turned around and gave Aswan Trader’s master a questioning glance.

  “No one knows the name, but we’ll be passing her within the hour. Look over the starboard side. In these waters, you’ll see her clear as day. Her topsides are shallow enough to present a risk for ships such as mine at low tide.”

  “Crashed during the Retribution Fleet’s attack, I suppose?”

  Fenrir shrugged.

  “No one knows what she is, who operated her, and when she came down.”

  “A shame we don’t have any sort of independent air supply system. I’d check her out from up close in an instant. Maybe I could free dive since she’s shallow enough to be considered a navigational hazard.”

  Rianne gave her colleague an amused smile.

  “Let’s leave the archeology for another time. I’m sure Captain Fenrir isn’t keen on anchoring around here anyhow. Not with what happened over where New Aden once stood. We’ll provide the supply ship with the coordinates, and they can at least give this mystery wreck an intensive scan from low orbit.”

  He inclined his head.

  “Of course, Sister. But a man can dream. Imagine. A perfectly preserved imperial-era starship almost right beneath our feet.”

  “Content yourself with a passing glimpse from above.”

  “You may join the lookout on the foremast top if you wish, Friar.” Fenrir gestured at the small platform above the foremast’s mainsail. “It’s the best view I can offer. See the bosun and ask for a safety harness.”

  “Thank you, Captain. I will.”

  Less than an hour later, warned by the lookout, Horam scrambled up the starboard ratlines and through the lubber’s hole. The sailor who’d called him up made sure he fastened his harness properly, then pointed at a patch of sea off their starboard bow.

  “You can just make out a bit of shiny stuff below the surface about a hundred meters aw
ay, Friar. That would be her.”

  The Lyonesse Marine turned monastic squinted as he sought out what the sailor saw and found it almost at once, a faint shimmer reflecting the early morning sunlight beneath a dappled surface. As they neared, he could trace more of its shape and let out a low whistle. He looked down at the other three Brethren and Captain Fenrir, now leaning over the rail beneath him.

  “It’s a big one,” Horam said in a voice that carried. “I figure easily as large as one of our corvettes. Local marine life must not like the hull’s alloy. It’s as spotless as the day she was launched. Probably tried lifting from the New Aden spaceport when the Retribution Fleet came overhead and took a disabling hit. If so, she’s probably the crew’s final resting place.”

  “In that case,” Rianne replied, “we should offer the Almighty a prayer on behalf of their souls so that if they’ve been restless in their watery grave since the crash, they might ultimately merge with the Infinite Void.”

  The Brethren lowered their heads, imitated by those sailors within earshot who didn’t have immediate duties. When they raised them again, Fenrir let out a soft grunt.

  “I guess that’s why this place always feels eerie.” When Rianne gave him a searching glance, he shrugged as if embarrassed by his comment. “I don’t believe in immortal souls or the Infinite Void, but I’ve encountered enough strangeness on this world to wonder whether your lot might be right about certain things.”

  “The offer to learn about our beliefs remains open, Lars. We know there are such things as souls because the most talented among my Sisters can feel them. Not me, mind you, at least not yet. I’m still young and relatively inexperienced in comparison with our greatest teachers. Think of what we call a soul, the intangible essence of a living being, if you like, as something which animates our bodies. Every faith throughout human history has that belief in common.”

  When he opened his mouth to speak, she held up a hand.

  “You wonder why such essences might stay at the site of the body’s death instead of merging into the Void, correct?” When he nodded, she made a dubious face. “I don’t know. Nobody does, but it’s the only explanation for some phenomena we encounter. Unfinished business, perhaps? Or the trauma of death, especially if caused by something as fundamentally evil as Dendera’s Great Scouring, somehow bound the soul to a physical place? We of the Void, who are more sensitive than most humans, know that the universe is stranger than our species can possibly imagine. Our interaction with said strangeness remains largely indecipherable. What you experience as eeriness stems from this interaction.”