by Eric Thomson
“My family has served in the Corps since before there was an empire, mostly as Pathfinders. That’s where our loyalties lie, which means I couldn’t simply walk away from my duties, no matter how I felt about our ruler.”
“And yet you’re walking away from the Corps now.” Morane stood and went to the sideboard.
DeCarde gave him a so-so gesture with her right hand. “Yes and no. By agreeing to follow you, I’ve done my duty to my battalion in saving their lives. And if you’re right about where the empire is headed, the Corps to which my family was pledged for over a thousand years may vanish in my lifetime. But by leaving the empire, I’m also leaving the Corps.”
“Or you’re setting the foundations for the Marine Corps’ rebirth by storing the proper seeds in my human knowledge vault on Lyonesse.” Morane drew two cups of tea from his samovar and handed one to DeCarde.
“Thank you. Now would you mind telling me how you came up with the notion of a knowledge vault?”
— 18 —
He sat again and gazed at her over the rim of his mug.
“I’m an avid and lifelong student of history. As such, I learned two vital and inevitable things. First, empires don’t last, and at a thousand years, ours entered fatal senility after Stichus Ruggero’s uncontested subversion of the succession rules. There have been rumblings of discontent and revolt ever since. And second, the higher a civilization’s level of sophistication, the worse its fall and the longer its path to rebirth. You can find countless examples throughout history, not only ours but the Shrehari Empire’s as well. You know that their distant ancestors built that fortress you call Klim Castle, right?”
“I thought those were tall tales.”
“We don’t know much about the proto-Shrehari, but their descendants are once more facing collapse even though they never regained the sophisticated knowledge that produced nearly indestructible buildings. I suppose our empire might have lasted longer if our galactic neighbors were still a threat.
“In any case, once those two notions crystallized in my mind, I set about to gauge where our empire stood on the path to decline. I found that with Dendera’s accession to the throne, the decay accelerated so much, collapse wasn’t centuries away, but only decades, if that. As a result, I wondered whether finding a sanctuary, a safe haven where advanced knowledge and technology might survive, if it escaped the ravages of civil war, might help humanity reclaim the stars much faster than if it were left to a natural rebirth.
“I eventually decided on Lyonesse with its particular place in our interstellar system. When most of the 197th Battle Group was destroyed by rebellious naval units, I figured the end was rapidly coming. Maybe not that of the empire just yet, but my own end and that of my crews. If we were to try and make the human knowledge vault a reality, escaping from the disaster in the Toboso system was our one chance. The people with us are those who voluntarily followed me into exile. Those who didn’t left aboard our other surviving frigate, though no matter whose navy they join, their chances of surviving long enough for a natural death don’t seem good.”
“Do the people of Lyonesse know we’re coming and why?” She took a sip and smiled. “This is much better than the swill we drank on Coraline. There may be hope for the future.”
“Enjoy this blend while it lasts. As for Lyonesse, the answer is no. For obvious reasons, I’ve kept my plans close-held until deciding it was time to strike out on our own. They’ll find out once we enter into orbit.”
“And what if the colonists don’t want to be saddled with fifteen hundred stray Armed Services personnel who, for all intents and purposes, are deserters?”
“We’ll cross that wormhole’s event horizon when we reach it. But with civil war heating up in every corner of human space, the people of Lyonesse are likely to be grateful for a permanent garrison that supplements whatever defense force they might have. There’s also something else, a Fleet supply depot on Lyonesse, established there by persons unknown with greater interest in lining their pockets than helping the Fleet. It will not only help us keep our current technology working long enough to establish new fabrication facilities, but gives us a legitimate foothold on the planet.”
DeCarde inclined her head in a gesture of respect. “You thought of everything.”
“No. I didn’t think about the usefulness of experienced ground troops until I heard your distress signal. There are bound to be more realizations along those lines, if not during our voyage to Lyonesse, then soon after settling there.”
“It’s probably inevitable.” She took another sip and let her eyes wander over the star map covering most of a bulkhead behind Morane. “I haven’t yet told my troops about our quitting the Corps and the empire. Telling anyone other than my closest senior staff about the evacuation in advance would have been too risky. But I really should address them before we go FTL. Might it be possible for me to speak with the senior of my squadron commanders aboard Narwhal?”
“Certainly. Now?”
DeCarde nodded. “Please, if it’s not an inconvenience.”
“Captain to the bridge.”
“Officer of the watch.”
“Open a link with Narwhal and pipe it to my day cabin. Colonel DeCarde wants to speak with—” He glanced at her.
“Major Hanni Waske, who commands the Combat Support Squadron.”
“Did you catch the major’s name?” Morane asked.
“Aye, aye, sir. Wait one.”
They passed the next few minutes savoring their tea in companionable silence before the day cabin’s display came to life with the solemn countenance of a middle-aged woman whose leathery face spoke of long service.
“How are things over there, Hanni?”
“Good, sir. Narwhal’s crew went above and beyond the call of duty to build Marine barracks from virtually nothing. It’s not the Aramis Grand Hotel, but it sure beats Klim Castle. Plus, no damn Guards or rebels to ruin a good night’s sleep. The boys and girls are smiling. It’ll be our first vacation in months. I gather from the radio traffic that B Squadron’s extraction was a complete success.”
A wry smile turned up the corners of DeCarde’s mouth.
“Apparently it wasn’t as clean a break as you might think. B Squadron has a few armored suits in need of repair, but beyond bruises, nothing worthy of discussion. The Guards on the other hand probably suffered at least one or two platoons’ worth of dead and injured. Bowdoin triggered the booby traps and expended plenty of ammo to keep the bastards from rushing his troopers.”
“Couldn’t have happened to nicer people.”
“Listen, Hanni, there’s something everyone needs to know now that we’re out of immediate danger.” DeCarde quickly relayed her earlier conversation with Morane almost verbatim.
“Lyonesse, eh?” Waske rubbed her chin. “Not a familiar name. I hope you intend to speak with the battalion soon. The rumor machine is already powering up over here, thanks to a few friendly crew members, and it’ll come better straight from you rather than me.”
“If our Navy friends can rig something that’ll allow me to talk to the folks in Narwhal over a comlink while I’m speaking to the folks here, then I’d say as soon as possible. Definitely before our FTL jump to the wormhole.”
The officer commanding Combat Support Squadron, and by dint of seniority, third in the battalion’s chain of command, nodded with approval.
“Good, provided the folks with us will be able to ask you questions right there and then.”
DeCarde glanced at Morane who said, “You can assemble your folks in Vanquish on the hangar deck, and I’ll ask Captain Ryzkov to arrange the same on Narwhal. Then we’ll set up an audio and video link allowing you to see and hear your assembled troops over there while they can see and hear you from here. The hangar deck traffic control display should suit the purpose.”
“Does that work for you? Or should I do this in two parts? Once here and then transfer over to Narwhal for a repeat?”
Waske shook
her head. “Remotely works, Colonel. The troops understand we need to haul ass and leave this place.”
DeCarde turned to Morane again. “Can we do this in one hour?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“One hour then. Anything else?”
“Nothing that can’t wait. Clean bunks, clean heads and real food will work their usual miracle on morale.”
“A day or two of rest, then I’m invoking shipboard routine. If our respective captains allow it, I’d like to see everyone do daily parkour runs to stay in shape.”
When Morane gave her a strange look, she said, “I’ll explain afterward, Jonas. Hanni, you may wish to have the same conversation with Captain Ryzkov.”
“Of course. So far, Lori’s been more than accommodating.”
DeCarde’s eyebrows crept up to her hairline. Lori? “Glad to see you’re already on first-name terms with Narwhal’s captain.”
“Since we’ll be living in each other’s pocket for the next few weeks, getting acquainted seemed like the right thing to do.”
“Indeed. Until later, then.”
“Until later, Colonel.”
— 19 —
After speaking extemporaneously to the tightly massed troops standing before her on the hangar deck and their comrades visible on the wide screen affixed to the far bulkhead for almost fifteen minutes, DeCarde fell silent. She let her gaze roam over the serried ranks, meeting the eyes of her Pathfinders to gauge their feelings and reactions.
“Are there any questions or does anyone wish to comment on my decision? Consider this a battalion commander’s hour, meaning anything goes, within the normal parameters, of course. And don’t worry. If you think of something later on, the folks in Vanquish can always ask me, Major Salmin or Sergeant Major Bayn and those in Narwhal can ask Major Waske. They know as much as I do.”
A hard-faced Pathfinder from D Squadron stomped to attention and raised his right fist. “Sir.”
“Yes, Trooper Maartens?”
“What if we’d rather not settle on Lyonesse and instead want to make our way home?”
“Should we touch port somewhere before reaching Lyonesse, I can release you from the Service, but Captain Morane doesn’t plan to stop anywhere. In fact, we’re not even scheduled to cross any major inhabited system except Arietis. This entire scheme depends on slipping away unseen, so no one knows we’re establishing a human knowledge vault on Lyonesse.
“But once there, if a ship heading into the empire comes by, I’ll certainly release you on demand. Or, if you prefer, I’ll ask Captain Morane if we can send you back to Klim Castle before we go FTL.” She waited for the expected chuckles to die down before continuing. “I can understand not wanting to leave everything behind, but I needed to decide. It was either join Captain Morane’s exodus or die with the 14th Guards on Coraline. I chose life in exile instead of death.”
Maartens nodded once. “Understood, sir.”
“I’m aware not everyone agrees or is happy with my decision and would rather we return to our previous existence, but as long as we’re alive, we remain the 6th of the 21st. We’ll help each other through this. Besides, who knows what the future holds for us. It’s not only our fates that are changing. The empire itself faces a bleak tomorrow.”
“But we have a chance at something better,” Maartens said.
“Precisely.” She smiled at him because it suddenly dawned on her that Maartens wasn’t the one with reservations. Instead, he voiced them for those who didn’t want to speak out in public. His question was designed to lance what might become a festering boil on the unit’s morale. She made a mental note to discuss Maartens with Bayn and see whether it was time to return the corporal’s stripes he’d lost to a lack of discretion during shore leave the previous year.
That first question seemed to burst a dam. DeCarde spent another hour discussing everything from mundane matters such as pay — for which she had no answers — to the more philosophical issues such as the future of the empire and what might happen to their extended families. But she was strangely elated after answering the last question, and the troops were dismissed to their barracks.
The general mood seemed better than she expected, and it wasn’t just the afterglow of escaping certain death. DeCarde fancied she could almost see a renewed sense of adventure stirring in the ranks, one propelled by a cause larger than themselves. Young men and women joined the Marines precisely for those reasons and then applied to become Pathfinders because they wanted even more.
As she walked back to her quarters, lost in thought, Centurion Haller caught up with DeCarde. “Good session, Colonel, though I figure once they’ve digested what you said and understand what it means, you might want to hold another one.”
DeCarde gave Haller a tired smile. “And I will, Eve. If only to reinforce the idea we are still a unified battalion, one of the Marine Corps’ elite, and will stay so forever, because we are now our only remaining family.”
“Aye. I guess I should dig up what the Navy has on Lyonesse and prepare briefing packages for the troops, so they can get used to the idea of our new home.”
**
When the door to the bridge opened at DeCarde’s approach the next morning, she took a deep breath and stopped on the threshold, even though Morane had invited her to join him at oh-nine-hundred.
“Permission to enter?”
Morane swiveled his chair around and smiled. “As commanding officer of the embarked Marine contingent, you enjoy automatic access to the bridge and the CIC, Colonel. I thought you might enjoy watching us fall into Wormhole Coraline Four and leave this benighted system behind forever. I trust your night was restful.”
“Best sleep in months, sir. The surroundings and the company are more congenial here than inside Klim Castle, or elsewhere on Coraline.”
“No doubt.” He pointed at a vacant console. “Consider that yours for the rest of the journey. If we call battle stations, I’ll expect you in the CIC. Did you meet some of the ship’s officers at breakfast?”
“Yes, sir. Commander Mikkel — Iona — introduced me to several. Compliments to your galley on the food, by the way. We haven’t eaten this well since landing on Coraline.” DeCarde sat in the form-fitting chair and studied her surroundings, eyes bright with curiosity. “And washing off the filth we picked up serving alongside the 14th Guards did wonders for our spirits.”
“Your troopers seemed to be in fine fettle once you finished the session with them yesterday.”
“Knowing all of us made it out alive counts for a lot in a tightly knit outfit like the Pathfinders. As I told my operations officer yesterday, the battalion is now our only family.”
“We squids feel the same. Perhaps in time, we can merge our two families. By the way, Commodore Kischak seems to be keeping her word. There’s no sign of pursuit, and with our next three wormhole transits taking us through unoccupied systems with multiple termini we should be able to make a cleaner break than your own rearguard. No criticism intended.”
“None taken, Captain. Breaking clean while withdrawing under contact is one of the hardest tactical moves for us ground pounders. We’re lucky to have suffered only mechanical damage to a few powered suits, and no human casualties. Of course, I can’t comment on what the Navy does.”
“We enjoy the advantage of speed and distance.” He nodded at a side display. “Speaking of distance, that bright dot is Coraline, where Governor General the Countess Klim might even now be begging Commodore Kischak for her life.”
“Let’s hope this Kischak is not a soft touch.”
“I doubt she is, Colonel and because of that, I think the empire’s last hours on Coraline are nigh.”
“And without your arrival, my battalion would likely be dying alongside the Guards just about now. I’m not sure if I can adequately express my gratitude.”
“Helping me succeed in my quixotic quest will be thanks enough.”
“We will do our best. I give you my word as a Marine.
”
Morane acknowledged her vow with a solemn nod. Then, he said, “Changing the subject ever so slightly, did you ever witness what crossing a wormhole’s event horizon actually looks like?”
“No. I’ve only been a passenger aboard starships and never served with an embarked Marine detachment.”
“The perhaps I should give you the experience.”
“Sir.” Lieutenant Hak, Vanquish’s navigator, turned toward the command chair. “All ships are aligned with the event horizon, synced, and report ready for wormhole transit.”
“Take us into the wormhole, Mister Hak.”
Nothing happened for what seemed like a long time, even though the tactical projection showed three small icons rapidly approaching a hole in the fabric of space, one invisible to the human eye. Then, the familiar, eerie sensation that everything was being pulled out of shape and distorted overcame her, along with the usual swarm of butterflies trying to escape her stomach.
But that sensation was nothing compared to the spectacle on the bridge’s primary display. Where moments before she saw the usual dense speckling of stars against the black velvet of space, something from the fevered hallucinations of dying madman writhed with pulsating colors and shapes, distorting the very fabric of the universe.
“Wow.” The word came out as a hoarse whisper. DeCarde couldn’t tear her eyes away even though nausea was taking hold of her. It was, in a word, mesmerizing.
“Quite something, isn’t it? I never tire of watching the spectacle though I understand many sentient beings become violently ill from the visual overload.”
DeCarde tried to stifle a burp and failed. “I seem to be one of them, sir.”
Morane gave her an alarmed look and nodded at Hak. The display went dark. Almost immediately, the pain behind DeCarde eyes and in her gut evaporated.
“Better, Colonel?”
She nodded. “Better. That was, um, a once in a lifetime experience, I think, sir.”
“Some among my crew would agree with you. We’ll be in transit for about six hours, but it sure beats a week traveling FTL to reach the next star system on this branch of the network. And that’s even though we can push through hyperspace at over one hundred and eighty times the speed of light outside a star’s heliosphere, as opposed to only twice the speed of light within a star system.”