Imperial Sunset

by Eric Thomson

  “Well, I’ll be darned,” Piotr Salmin whispered, “salvation comes from the most unexpected direction. I’ll miss the fleshpots of Aramis, but life in the back of beyond beats death here.”

  “Then we’ll just create our own fleshpots when we get there, sir,” Centurion Haller said with a smile born as much of mischief as it was of relief.

  DeCarde raised a hand to forestall any more banter.

  “My biggest concern is to make sure the Guards don’t suspect we’re leaving. Otherwise we’ll be stuck fighting our way through them. Even if Verkur and his officers are ready and willing to die for the Crown, many of the soldiers aren’t. Only Guards officers receive deep conditioning apt to produce fanatical devotion, and that means a lot of the junior ranks might look for seats on our rescue flight if they find out. Besides, Verkur could decide we should perish alongside the 14th simply on general principles. He’s that kind of an imperial asshole. Therefore, we can’t tell our own troops until the last moment, lest word filters out. I don’t want one more Pathfinder paying for this madness because we didn't keep operational security as tight as possible.”

  “And the rebels?”

  “Morane strikes me as a man who will find a way to handle them, if only to protect the battle group’s shuttles, Piotr.”

  “We kill the off-duty Guards in their sleep an hour before the rescue flotilla lands,” Sergeant Major Bayn suggested, “then toss grenades into the sentry and firing positions to sort out the rest.”

  DeCarde shook her head. “Tempting, but no. We need to make a clean break, not withdraw under fire, and as much as I find the entire Imperial Guards Corps objectionable, a cold-blooded massacre isn’t on.”

  Piotr Salmin shrugged. “Easy. Ask Vanquish to make a big sound and light show outside, so the 14th is fully focused on what’s happening beneath the battlements. Then we climb to the roof, sabotage the guns, and shut every staircase behind us with whatever means we can devise. Booby-trap them, even. The moment we’re ready, let the shuttles land and load up. That means they should already be circling somewhere beyond sensor range.”

  “Simple and straightforward. I like it.” She glanced at Haller. “Eve, tell Hanni I want the pioneers to run a survey of our withdrawal routes to the roof and plan how they might interdict them — merely as a contingency, of course. If she becomes curious, tell her I’m trying to come up with a harebrained scheme for a last-ditch defense.”

  The Marines who formed Pioneer Troop, part of Major Hanni Waske’s Combat Support Squadron, were the 6th Battalion’s in-house combat engineers and experts at setting booby traps.

  “Roger that, sir.”

  “Piotr, I believe you’re our most experienced embarkation officer, so that job becomes yours. When we contact Vanquish again, ask for a list of their shuttles so you can put together the embarkation scheme. In the interests of time, we absolutely need to make sure they land in the right order based on how we’ll form up our folks. Also, find out which of the ships will receive our wounded.”

  “You got it, Colonel.”

  “Sergeant Major, see what rations we can scavenge from the central stocks without the Guards getting wise.”

  “With pleasure. May I also suggest we raid the governor general’s piggy bank? Those precious metals might come in handy.”

  “You may. Just make sure your thieves strike at the last minute.” DeCarde stood. “It’s presently ten-hundred hours. I’d like to lift off by oh-four-hundred tomorrow morning at the latest, before first light. The longer we delay, the greater the chances someone will realize what we’re planning. And now, I suppose I’d better head off to her nibs’ daily waste of time.”

  “Try to keep your own excitement under tight control, Colonel, otherwise Verkur will smell a rat. He’s already wondering whether we’re in contact with something out there. The 14th’s executive officer buttonholed me earlier this morning. He seems to believe we’re up to no good.”

  “I’ll do my best, Piotr.”

  “If Verkur gets too nosy, lead the fucker to a quiet spot and kill him. We’ll dispose of the body for you.”

  “And that’s even more tempting, Sergeant Major. If Dagon goes from annoying pest to something more dangerous, you can be sure I won’t hesitate.”

  “One last thing, sir.”

  “Yes, Piotr?”

  “We really should run at least one rehearsal. If we do it by squadron, we can pretend it’s to practice repelling a possible airborne rebel attack. My embarkation plan will be built around squadron chalks anyhow.”

  “Good idea. Do it. Hopefully, the troops won’t react negatively once they find out I’m leading them into permanent exile, away from the empire, the regiment and the life we knew.”

  Salmin shrugged. “They’ll react like Pathfinders, Colonel. Adapt and overcome. A few might suffer depression from excessive nostalgia, but until we’re settled wherever Captain Morane is taking us, it’ll be just another day in the Corps.”

  Bayn nodded. “The major is right. I’ll keep an eye on those with close family back home, but at least we’re leaving this shit hole as a battalion, and we’ll start our new lives at the other end as a battalion. Being with your mates counts for more than anything else in this business.”

  **

  “I presume you picked up another radio transmission from above this morning?” Dagon Verkur asked by way of greeting when he intercepted her on the way to Klim’s conference room. “Brief, but still with the same encryption.”

  “We did. And we still don’t know what that was about. You can always ask the rebels if it’s their buddies from Admiral Loren’s private navy.”

  Verkur stopped and examined her with hooded eyes that oozed skepticism. “Why is it I think you’re lying, Brigid?”

  “Because you spent your entire life surrounded by liars and can’t fathom the concept of honesty? Or honor and integrity. Or any other attribute of a good officer.”

  He shook his head. “No. You’re up to something. I can see it in your face. Spending one’s life surrounded by liars helps develop finely-tuned bullshit detectors.”

  DeCarde shrugged dismissively and resumed walking down the cold, bare passage. “Think whatever you want, Dagon. I neither care nor am I inclined to play games. As long as we’re alive, I’ll turn my energies to finding a way out, and I suggest you do the same.”

  “There is no way out except by air. Or didn’t you notice? And even that’s dicey since the rebels still have weapons capable of downing anything that flies.”

  “Which makes me wonder why you didn’t arrange for a backdoor to your bolt hole. That seems rather careless.”

  “We checked but couldn’t find anything. When we tried to create our own, the rock resisted every tool we own. Those aliens were solid builders. Trust me on this.”

  “Perhaps.” DeCarde stepped into the conference room and took her usual seat. “But where there’s life, there’s hope. We Pathfinders have this curious habit of fighting until the very end.”

  “An admirable sentiment, to be sure.” Verkur sat across from her. “But if I discover you’re holding back on me, you may find the end coming sooner than expected. We still outnumber you by almost three to one, and this fortress is part of our garrison.”

  “Why the sudden threats?” DeCarde gave him a puzzled frown.

  “Because I trust no one who didn’t swear an oath of allegiance to the empress.”

  “And look where that sentiment got you, my friend. Surrounded by those who reject Dendera and want to rend you limb from limb. I’d suggest you reconsider your prejudices. But since we’re not getting out of here alive, there’s really no point.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Verkur nodded. “You’re planning something. I haven’t seen you this chipper since we set up shop inside Klim Castle.”

  “Just trying to keep my spirits up with a positive attitude. You should try it someday, Dagon.”

  “You’re an example to us, I’m sure, Colonel DeCarde.” Klim’s disapprov
ing voice washed over them as she entered the room. “If only you could turn that positive spirit to tactical matters, we might all feel a lot chipper.”

  “Sorry, Countess. We’re still hemmed in by the rebels with no end in sight.”

  Verkur gave DeCarde a deadly stare. “Or maybe not. It’s become clear there are one or more ships above the planet, and they’re talking to someone on the surface. We intercepted two communications so far, one yesterday, one this morning, but we weren’t able to decrypt them. Colonel DeCarde claims she doesn’t have the right algorithms either.”

  Klim cocked an elegant eyebrow. “Curious. So it’ll be rebels, then?”

  “That’s what we believe.” Since it was true in the sense that Morane and his battle group renounced their allegiance to the empire, neither Verkur nor the governor general could sense any falsehood on DeCarde’s part. But the former didn’t seem to buy it.

  When the meeting broke up after thirty minutes of desultory conversation punctuated now and then by unreasonable demands from the countess, Verkur’s cold eyes followed DeCarde as she left him and Klim to discuss private matters. The Marine knew he wouldn’t let the matter rest and thought about Sergeant Major Bayn’s suggestion. A stab through the ear with the dagger strapped to her left forearm would kill Verkur instantly and leave very little blood for his soldiers to find. It was an ancient blade but still deadly. And it had taken many lives over the generations.

  “Another fun conference?” Salmin looked up from his field tablet when DeCarde entered the command post.

  “Hopefully my last. Klim doesn’t live in the real universe anymore. I don’t know whether it’s the booze, drugs she’s taking on the sly or a weak character. Not that it matters. But Dagon Verkur is less of a fool than I thought and might become dangerous. His people picked up Vanquish’s opening ping, but fortunately not the subsequent link once we were on a narrow beam.”

  “And he thinks we’re plotting something with unidentified naval units in orbit.”

  “Pretty much. I may be forced to take him out before we trigger our exodus.”

  “Or I can give the job to one of our experts.”

  “No, Piotr. If it becomes necessary, I’ll do the deed myself.”

  Salmin saw the determination in his commanding officer’s eyes and knew she was thinking of more than merely stilling a suspicious if not yet outright hostile mind. DeCarde still felt anger and shame at not stopping the 14th Guards Regiment before they took out their frustrations against the rebellion on unarmed civilians a few weeks earlier. Never mind Verkur’s regiment still mustered almost four times the 6th battalion’s strength at the time and could inflict heavy casualties. Or that the extent of the Guards’ savagery surprised everyone.

  “Fair enough, Colonel. While you were contemplating Countess Klim’s descent into irrelevance, I obtained the shuttle specifications from Vanquish. It’ll be tight — at least half of their atmospheric craft are configured for cargo only — but doable, so long as no one shoots at us. Pioneer Troop is working the escape routes to the roof, and we should see the preliminary estimate within the hour. I’ve taken the liberty of quietly alerting the squadron commanders as to the real purpose of our repel boarders drill on the roof, but they’ll not spread the word any further down their chain of command.”

  DeCarde nodded with approval. “Probably best they know earlier rather than later. Anything else?”

  “Besides the wounded and two squadrons, Captain Morane wants you and battalion HQ aboard Vanquish. I’m mentioning that in case you thought about roughing it in one of Narwhal’s cargo holds with the other squadrons.”

  “Not particularly unexpected, I suppose, considering his ship has purpose-built Marine barracks, and will probably have a station for the Marine commander in his CIC. In case we’re needed for raiding action en route to this human knowledge vault he mentioned. How about distracting the rebels?”

  “Morane’s still working on that. We need to complete the plans for what we’ll do if this turns into a withdrawal under contact, Colonel.”

  — 11 —

  “Bridge to the captain.”

  Morane, sitting at the head of a long, narrow table, held up his hand to forestall Commander Lori Ryzkov’s remarks. Narwhal’s captain, along with her colleague Nate Sirak from Myrtale had joined Vanquish’s department heads in the cruiser’s conference room via holographic projection over a secure comlink to discuss the rescue operation.

  “Captain, here.”

  “We received a signal from Alexandretta on a narrow beam, sir, someone claiming to be the Provisional Free Government of Coraline. They’re demanding we identify ourselves.”

  Many eyebrows shot up at the unexpected news.

  “Meaning they picked up our initial signal, before we switched to narrow beam ourselves, and scanned the orbitals, Captain. We’ve not done much to keep our presence hidden from prying eyes on the surface.”

  “No doubt, Iona. A mistake on my part not placing us under silent running.”

  “At least we shut off our transponders.”

  “Which is probably why they’re demanding identification, rather than merely making it a polite request. We could be marauders. Let’s hope the 14th Guards no longer possesses sensors powerful enough to reach geosynchronous, or our Pathfinder friends might find their way out of the fortress blocked.” He climbed to his feet. “If you’ll continue the discussion among yourselves for a few minutes, I’ll take this call from the bridge. It might give me the chance to convince the insurgents that letting the 6th of the 21st go would be beneficial for everyone involved since they didn’t take part in the Guards’ atrocities. Considering the alternative is us bombarding rebel positions near the fortress to clear the way for our shuttles...”

  “Good luck.”

  Morane smiled at his first officer. “It’s not luck I need, but the skills of a silver-tongued rogue.”

  “Which you seem to possess, Skipper.”

  Once on the bridge, he nodded at the officer of the watch. “Open a link.”

  After almost one minute, the image of a middle-aged man in Marine Corps green with a general’s stars at his collar materialized. He had the square features, firm chin and the determined gaze of a born fighter. Hooded eyes stared at Morane with undisguised suspicion.

  “State your identity and purpose.” The unfriendly tone in his voice matched his expression.

  “I’m Jonas Morane, captain of the cruiser Vanquish and acting commodore of the 197th Battle Group.”

  “One of Dendera’s bootlickers?”

  “Not anymore. And you are?”

  “The name’s Tymak. I run Coraline now.”

  Morane mentally winced. Warlordism was already taking hold here. “Do you recognize Admiral Loren as regent of the Shield Sector, General?”

  “If he makes me the right offer, sure. We certainly don’t want the damned empire to come back. Once we’ve exterminated the last remaining little bits, Coraline will be an empire-free world.”

  The officer of the watch, standing beyond video pickup range, pointed at a screen next to Tymak’s image. It now displayed information on the man culled from Vanquish’s data banks. Former major, 118th Marine Regiment, last known assignment was as regimental S-3, running operations. Interesting. From imperial staff officer to warlord in the space of a few months.

  “I can help with that if you’d like.”

  Tymak’s expression oozed skepticism. “Oh?”

  “Admiral Loren has directed we recover the Pathfinders sent here by mistake before he could countermand illegal orders from Wyvern. The 6th Battalion of the 21st Pathfinder Regiment. They’re needed on Aramis. Once we evacuate them, you can deal more easily with the 14th Guards Regiment, or whatever is left.”

  Tymak gave Morane a thoughtful stare.

  “I was going to watch the Guards fight your Pathfinders for the last rations, then see who comes out of that fortress to embrace a quick death instead of a lengthy starvation. You don’t
know what the damned Guards did to Coraline and her people. They deserve an agonizing end, and if DeCarde’s people don’t do it for us, we’ll gladly send their souls to hell ourselves, along with those of the other filthy loyalists we rounded up.”

  “Highly commendable, I’m sure,” Morane muttered. Then, in a louder tone. “Will you let us evacuate the 6th of the 21st, General? I promise not a single Guard, nor any of the governor general’s staff will be allowed to board my shuttles. The admiral doesn’t care what you do. He just doesn’t want any of them roaming free in his sector.”

  “They won’t be roaming, I can guarantee that.” Tymak rubbed his chin with a calloused hand. “What if I decide to keep your Pathfinders? They were collaborating with the Guards and therefore are just as guilty.”

  “You intended to execute them if they fell into your hands?”

  Tymak nodded. “For sure. Except we planned on shooting the Pathfinders by the side of the road while any surviving Guards will answer to the people of Coraline before we put them to death. And it won’t be pretty. The empress’ bastards will wish they’d merely been shot.”

  “I understand your desire for vengeance, but let me pick up the Pathfinders. You can save your ammunition and please Admiral Loren at the same time. He’d not thank you for killing troops he needs to fight Dendera.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Then I’ll neutralize everything you own within range of the fortress before sending my shuttles down. You know what an orbital bombardment can do, right, General?”

  Tymak’s face showed surprise at Morane’s matter-of-fact tone. “You’d strike at fellow members of the rebellion?”

  “My orders are to retrieve the Pathfinders, and I’ll do what I must to carry them out. The choice of how I proceed is yours. If your troops don’t target my shuttles, we’ll be parting as friends. If they do, Admiral Loren might find it necessary to change Coraline’s government, and he won’t be gentle, I can assure you.”

  “You’ll leave us the Guards and the governor general?”