Imperial Echoes

by Eric Thomson

  “May I?”

  “Good Lord, man. Enough with the fake politeness.” Metrobius didn’t bother hiding his irritation.

  Hermina put a hand on the friar’s arm.

  “He’s not faking. Our captor is a genuinely polite man, and he no doubt regrets abducting us.” She glanced at Torma. “I suppose the abomination is watching via the security system?”

  “Sister Ardrix is in sickbay, helping the ship’s healers clean and do the inventory.”

  His answer seemed to catch Hermina by surprise.

  “She may work with me, but she remains a servant of the Almighty and a Sister of the Order, someone who dedicated her life to selflessly helping others.”

  One of her eyes narrowed, and she let out an almost imperceptible snort.

  “The theological debates we’ll enjoy with your Void Reborn Brethren should be fascinating. Too bad I’m not a theologian at heart.”

  Torma couldn’t quite tell if she was being sarcastic or not. He chose to believe the latter.

  “Neither am I. While I believe in the Almighty and learned a few mind discipline techniques from Ardrix, I couldn’t begin to debate the nature of the Infinite Void.”

  “Go fetch yourself a cup of tea and join us. Sorry that we can’t offer you coffee, which I understand from your wardroom steward is the preferred drink. We tried the legendary stuff yesterday. Coffee plants don’t grow on Lyonesse, and the last stocks ran out long before we were born. Sadly, we found it horrible.”

  “I suppose it’s an acquired taste, and you probably lost it long ago. Don’t worry, tea is a common beverage in the Hegemony as well, so you won’t miss out.”

  Hermina gave him a strange smile. “I’m finding you more interesting than I expected.”

  Since there was no possible answer that didn’t sound immodest, Torma picked up a mug adorned with Repulse’s crest, a golden razor-beaked raptor native to Wyvern, with raised wings, standing on a rock above the motto ‘Who touches me is broken.’ He filled it from the urn, then took the sole empty seat at the round table.

  “May I assume you’re familiar with the last days of the old empire, Dendera’s Retribution Fleet, and the Great Scouring?”

  Hermina nodded.

  “In exquisite detail. Fortunately, the Retribution Fleet didn’t come any closer to Lyonesse than Micarat, five wormhole transits away. Our ships went out in the following quarter-century looking for salvage and rescuing any Void Brethren who survived. They saw the results. I trust the Almighty has ensured Dendera’s rotten soul will suffer torment for eternity.”

  Torma raised his mug.

  “A sentiment everyone in the Wyvern Hegemony shares because we barely escaped the fate of just about every other human world except for Lyonesse. Our ancestors witnessed the ultimate battle that ended the Ruggero Dynasty and the empire. It left an indelible scar which still resonates to this day and explains why we are the way we are, our Order of the Void Reborn included.”

  “So, what happened?” Metrobius asked with an unexpected tinge of interest in his tone.

  “When Dendera sent out the Retribution Fleet, against the advice of the General Staff, she kept a reinforced 1st Fleet to guard Wyvern. In this case, reinforced meant two-and-a-half times the size of a normal fleet. The admiral commanding sent battle groups to the far end of the stable wormholes connecting Wyvern with the rest of the galaxy in the Torrinos, Dordogne, and Arcadia star systems. That way, he wouldn’t be caught napping by rebel forces intent on sacking the capital. Those three and Wyvern now form the Hegemony.”

  Torma took a sip of tea.

  “According to the historical records, pretty much everyone in the 1st Fleet was revolted when stories of the Retribution Fleet’s depredations filtered back through the communications nodes. The admiral in command decided, along with his fellow flag officers, that enough was enough. They would remove Dendera and stop the madness, but he wanted it done without destroying what remained of the imperial government and scarring the four star systems under his protection. It meant he spent time building a cabal within the Navy that could overwhelm Dendera’s personal bodyguards. A few weeks, no more. But somehow, she got wind of it and recalled the Retribution Fleet, which by then was scattered across several sectors. That might be why it didn’t go beyond Micarat, thereby sparing Lyonesse.

  “What followed were three set-piece fights between the battle groups guarding the wormhole termini in the Torrinos, Dordogne, and Arcadia systems and Retribution Fleet elements answering Dendera’s call. The casualties were terrible on both sides, though minuscule compared to what the Retribution Fleet inflicted on its victims. The battlegroups protecting the Dordogne and Arcadia ends of the Wyvern wormholes were essentially rendered combat ineffective. Enough ships made it through to decimate the formations in the Wyvern system. Humanity never saw so many starships lost in so short a time in its entire history.”

  Torma paused and shook his head, a grim expression on his face.

  “It could have gone either way. A few more ships on the Retribution Fleet’s side, and they would have ended the 1st Fleet’s hopes of victory. In despair, the latter’s commander ordered Draconis, the capital, evacuated within the hour, counting on the fact Dendera would consider the threat hollow and never comply. Once the sixty minutes were up, he ordered a kinetic strike that destroyed the city, killing Dendera and her entourage, the Empress’ Bodyguard Regiment, as well as those in the Armed Services General Staff still loyal to her. In effect, he removed the imperial government in one fell swoop.”

  “A few years too late,” Hermina remarked in a tart tone.

  Torma nodded.

  “As you say, Prioress. But it was what it was.”

  “What about the capital’s civilian population?” Metrobius asked.

  “By that time, Draconis was a forbidden city. If you weren’t a member of the imperial government, you couldn’t enter. Dendera’s paranoia, you see. Anyway, after that, the surviving 1st Fleet admirals, and those on the ground who’d fled Dendera’s service during the battles in the four star systems, came together and formed a military government to prevent anarchy. In due course, they founded the Hegemony, built a replacement capital, New Draconis, and swore the Oath of Reunification.

  “Then, their successors, content with absolute power over what they believed were the only worlds that survived reasonably intact, established a system of government whose sole purpose was preserving the status quo so that the last light of interstellar civilization didn’t fade out. We’ve been in stasis ever since. Until that is, a merchant named Jan Keter, chartered by parties unknown, set out on an illegal trip into the wormhole network. He reached Hatshepsut and brought back artifacts of undeniably recent manufacture by a human civilization with advanced technology. Some of those artifacts bore what our Order of the Void identified as abbey markings, but from one they couldn’t place, L slash L.”

  “Lannion Abbey on Lyonesse. Our Mother House.”

  Torma inclined his head by way of thanks.

  “And that’s when a group of senior officers in the Hegemony Guards Corps decided it was time we took a peek at the wider galaxy, but without informing our rulers. They would surely have buried the information Sister Ardrix and I dug up, lest knowledge of others besides ourselves disturb the long-standing social peace. You see, we’ve believed ourselves the sole heirs of humanity’s past for generations. And that encapsulates our story. I’ve arranged for access to the ship’s historical database if you’re interested in us and our system of government.”

  He drained his tea.

  “I won’t ask for a quid pro quo, but I’d enjoy hearing about how Lyonesse survived the empire’s collapse and thrived enough to strike out and help fallen worlds rebuild.”

  Hermina nodded at Metrobius.

  “You’re our historian. How about you go ahead?”

  “Sure, but before I do that, can I ask two question
s? The first is about the insignia on your upper arms. Is that a stylized phoenix, by any chance?”

  “It is. The Hegemony’s first Ruling Council adopted it as our state symbol, and it is on the crests of the Navy, the Ground Forces, and in my case, the State Security Commission.”

  “As in reborn from the ashes?” Metrobius stroked his white beard. “Not a bad heraldic choice. My second question concerns your usage of the name Guards Corps. Our historical records tell us the Guards Corps replaced the Army during the first Ruggero emperor's reign. Apparently, there was no love lost between it and the other two services, the Marines in particular. So if your Hegemony’s founders put an end to the Ruggeros, how is it your armed forces kept the name?”

  “A somewhat controversial issue at the time, according to our records. Your forebears probably missed the fact that in her final few years, Dendera made the whole 1st Fleet part of the Imperial Guards Corps so it would answer to her directly rather than the Navy’s Supreme Commander. As command-and-control problems went during the empire’s last days, this was apparently one of the more egregious examples. At the same time, there no longer were any Imperial Marine Corps units in the Wyvern Sector, only Guards Ground Forces, because so many of the former’s regiments mutinied against the Crown.

  “When the dust settled after the Battle of Wyvern, all that remained were the Guards 1st Fleet and the Guards Ground Forces on the Hegemony’s four inhabited planets. The latter weren’t interested in abandoning their title. At the same time, the 1st Fleet admirals were keen on quickly painting a patina of legitimacy over their junta as a way of keeping a traumatized citizenry quiescent. And they decided that patina would come from claiming themselves guardians of the empire’s heritage until a legitimate sovereign appeared, which is why we call our head of state the Regent. No one questions it anymore.”

  Metrobius nodded.

  “Fascinating. I gather your population is still quiescent?”

  “To a large extent. Those who buck the long-standing social contract, obey the government in return for living in an orderly and safe society, become a problem for my branch of the Guards Corps.”

  “Right. The police state in action. So, let’s see. I suppose the story starts a few years before the Great Scouring with a starship captain called Jonas Morane, who fled the battle of Toboso with the Imperial 197th Battle Group's remnants rather than surrender or fight to the death. He’d formulated a strange plan, that of building a vault on Lyonesse to preserve humanity’s accumulated knowledge as a way of short-circuiting the long night of barbarism and thereby recreate interstellar civilization much faster. Along the way, he picked up survivors of the Order of the Void, fleeing Admiral Pendrick Zahar’s pogrom in the Coalsack, and a battalion of Marines stranded on a doomed world...”

  When Metrobius fell silent after describing the events that led to the Republic of Lyonesse’s formation, Torma said, “That is utterly fascinating. Jonas Morane sounds like one hell of a visionary, the sort who, if he’d been on the imperial throne, would have ensured another thousand years of peace.”

  “He was our most beloved president. There’s a statue of him and our first Summus Abbatissa, Sister Gwenneth, standing back-to-back, on Lannion’s main square. They are our republic’s two founders and most devoted protectors, who shepherded Lyonesse through its tumultuous first decades and set government policy for the ages.”

  Torma couldn’t help but notice the reverence in Metrobius’ voice, and he inclined his head.

  “Thank you, Friar.”

  “So,” Hermina asked, “did you record that?”

  “No. When I said we wouldn’t use surveillance on your quarters, I meant it. But I’m blessed with a quasi-eidetic memory and will transcribe what I heard when I return to my quarters.”

  She let out a soft snort. “That quasi-eidetic memory must come in handy for a political police officer.”

  “It does. Criminals can’t fool me with any sort of ease.” He stood. “Thank you for your forbearance. If you’re agreeable, I’ll join you again tomorrow, and you can ask me any questions you want.”

  Back in the quarters he shared with Ardrix, Torma kicked off his boots and removed his tunic. The hour he’d spent with the Lyonesse Brethren took a lot out of him for some strange reason.

  After recording what he’d learned, Torma unrolled the meditation mat, adopted the lotus position, and closed his eyes.

  Ardrix found him deep in a trance half an hour later and noiselessly settled on the mat as well. She figured that if he felt the need for mental cleansing this early in the day, it could only mean Hermina and her colleagues had probed his mind’s defenses, though Torma wouldn’t have noticed.

  So much for Hermina calling Ardrix an abomination. But then, hypocrisy wasn’t just a secular failing. All humans were guilty of that sin regularly, Void Brethren included.

  — 36 —

  ––––––––

  “Are you out of your mind?” Major General Ishani Robbins glared at the image of Crevan Torma on her office display. “Bringing back prisoners from Hatshepsut?”

  Torma had opened an encrypted link between Repulse and the Commission headquarters shortly after Task Force Kruzenshtern entered orbit around Wyvern after one last FTL jump from the wormhole terminus. Unencumbered by stops to scan former imperial worlds and outposts, their return trip took little more than half as long as the outbound voyage.

  But even so, both Torma and Ardrix became, if not friendly with the Lyonesse Brethren, then reasonably familiar. Curiosity was indeed driving them to exchange information about each other’s respective worlds, histories, and versions of the Order.

  “They’re living proof the Navy sent an unauthorized expedition beyond the Hegemony sphere,” she continued, “and with our active participation. Where do you intend to stash them? In our cells? Or maybe you should simply shove them out the airlock now.”

  “Not our cells, General,” Torma shook his head, “and I can guarantee even suggesting the idea of spacing them will destroy the good rapport we’ve built with the Navy on the Commission’s behalf. They don’t take kindly to cold-blooded murder, which is why the town of Mazaber still stands, and the ship carrying the remaining two Void Brethren still sails. We’ve been treating the Lyonesse folks like involuntary guests, not prisoners, by giving them comfortable quarters, the same food as the crew, and entertainment database access. Our interactions are a voluntary exchange of information between equals. They’re not exactly our friends at this point, but we owe them guest rights. Once you and I are done here, Ardrix will call Archimandrite Bolack and arrange accommodations at an out-of-the-way priory. I’m sure his theologians will be keen on comparing doctrinal differences between the original Void and the Void Reborn.”

  “You take a lot on yourself, Crevan. What if Admiral Benes or I disagree with your plans?”

  “You can discipline or fire me and see what happens.”

  She frowned at his tone more than his words.

  “Was that a threat?”

  He shook his head.

  “No, General. Merely a statement of fact. Commodore Watanabe will refuse any order to harm the Lyonesse folks, and Ardrix would make sure you face Archimandrite Bolack’s wrath if you arrange for someone else to kill them.”

  Robbins raised a hand in surrender.

  “Stand down, Colonel. I was simply checking to see how far you’ve committed yourself. This will upset the Hegemony’s political balance in ways we can’t even predict.”

  “I should certainly hope so. Lyonesse has been re-colonizing former imperial worlds in the Coalsack Sector for almost half a century, complete with naval outposts, ground forces garrisons, orbital platforms, subspace radio relays, wormhole control forts, the works. They swore their own version of our Oath of Reunification at about the same time we did, but unlike us, they’re acting on it.”

  “Your so-called guests told you that? Did A
rdrix plunge into their minds, or did they defect?”

  “As I said, we exchanged information. Lyonesse has spent the last two hundred years convinced it was the only surviving FTL-capable star system left in this part of the galaxy. Proof of our existence shattered our guests’ deepest-held assumptions and beliefs, as proof of their existence has and will continue to shatter ours.” He shrugged. “Mind you, it took a while. They consider Ardrix an abomination because she’s not conditioned against entering another mind unbidden.”

  “And they’ll live with members of the Void Reborn?”

  “Again, curiosity is the primary driving force. They finally interacted with Ardrix and now understand she’s part of a tiny minority among the Void Reborn, that most of the Sisters can’t force their way into another’s mind. And there’s the theological aspect.” Torma chuckled. “I can’t help wonder whether the Lyonesse Brethren are entertaining notions of leading the Void Reborn back into the old Order.”

  “Bolack will probably entertain the same notions, but in reverse.” Robbins let out a soft grunt. “In any case, what’s done is done. Get them hidden away. I’ll set up a meeting with Admiral Benes and Johannes Godfrey so you can give them the same briefing. They can decide on next steps. Mind you, Commodore Watanabe is probably speaking with one or both at this very moment.”

  “If he is, it’s only to submit the fictitious patrol report, so he can account for the consumption of supplies and fuel. Watanabe made it clear he would not discuss events with anyone and make sure none of his people do, while Major Vinh’s troopers are used to never speaking about missions, not even with their chief of operations. Therefore, briefing flag officers from both combatant services on the results of an unauthorized mission is my job and mine only. However, there’s not much time if we plan on staying ahead of the story. Even though the task force is disbanding, and its personnel are sworn to secrecy, rumors will circulate within days. These things always do.”

  A smirk twisted Robbins’ lips.