Imperial Sunset

by Eric Thomson

  “Could well be,” Barca said. “Standby while I find the prisoner manifest. We can run it against the empty and shot-up pods.” The minutes passed, then, “No need to run it. The ship’s AI has kept a tally. Whoever boarded Tanith and massacred the crew decanted a political prisoner by the name Devy Custis.”

  “Grand Duke Devy Custis?” DeCarde sounded incredulous. “He’s one of Dendera’s many cousins. Last I heard, she wasn’t thinning out the family ranks.”

  “One and the same, Colonel,” Barca replied. “Decanted along with him was one Isobel Custis, the grand duchess, and six Custis children aged between six and seventeen.”

  Morane made a pensive sound. “So the rebels boarded Tanith to rescue a member of the imperial household. He contacted Zahar’s faction somehow and set himself up as one of the rebellion’s putative leaders.”

  “Grand Duke Custis always had a reputation for overweening ambition,” DeCarde said. “I guess Dendera couldn’t bring herself to kill them, so it was to be exile on Parth instead, but Zahar’s people heard about the prison convoy and set an ambush. And the shot-up pods, Adrienne?”

  “The ship’s AI reports those also held former members of the imperial court, including Grand Chamberlain Nelly Asher.”

  A low whistle escaped DeCarde’s lips. “Looks like Dendera’s paranoia went into overdrive in recent months. Asher’s been chamberlain for decades. Her name has always been a byword for loyalty to the Crown.”

  “I suppose Custis ordered his rescuers to kill them,” Morane said. “Perhaps he saw his fellow courtiers as potential competition for supremacy inside the rebel command structure. But why leave the rest of the convict draft to live on in their pods?”

  “I’m not sure to live on is the right expression, sir,” Barca replied. “Without maintenance, the ship’s power plant will eventually fail, no? When that happens, the remaining five hundred and sixteen convicts will die.”

  “True.”

  “The bastards didn’t want to waste ammo.” DeCarde’s tone dripped with disgust. “Except on those few Custis needed to see dead with his own eyes, I guess. More of your great evil, Sister Gwenneth?”

  “Indeed, Colonel. You may not know this, but when a stasis pod’s life support fails before the occupant has been properly decanted, he or she regains enough consciousness for the mind to realize his or her body is shutting off permanently. Although the victim feels no physical pain, I can only imagine a soul’s agony at understanding it is dead already and merely experiencing the brain’s last few electrical impulses. Apparently, the experience is quite similar to the last few seconds of awareness in a person who’s been decapitated.”

  Barca shivered more at the sister’s otherworldly, almost ethereal tone than at her words.

  “I’m not sure I want to find out how you came by that information, Sister.”

  “Merely one of the more esoteric bits of medical knowledge humans discovered many centuries ago. However, your reaction shows why practitioners don’t care to discuss the subject with lay people.” A pause. “As much as it pains me to say this, Captain Morane, your options are limited. Leaving Tanith in its current state, with the prisoners condemned to die when their stasis pods fail, is surely not something you’ll countenance.”

  Morane sighed. “No. Of course not, Sister.”

  “It would be kinder to destroy the ship in such a manner that their minds won’t awaken before the final moment of death.”

  “Either we decant a few so they can take control of the ship and bring it to a safe port,” DeCarde said. “Or we plant a few nuclear demolition devices around the antimatter containment bottles and pray for their souls.”

  “I cannot order what would be, in everything but name, the execution of five hundred and sixteen humans in cold blood, Colonel. They weren’t found guilty of capital crimes. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be aboard Tanith.”

  “You want us to go through the prisoner manifest and find a couple of likely candidates to decant?” Barca asked. “The list shows mostly political prisoners, but there are common criminals among them. I wouldn’t recommend setting the odd murderer and rapist free to roam even if he or she has experience as starship crew.”

  “Why don’t you transmit the manifest and we’ll take a look as well, Adrienne.”

  “Will do, Colonel. Stand by.”

  — 30 —

  “Is there anyone left running the empire?” Morane studied the manifest displayed on a side screen with an air of astonishment on his face as he ran a hand through his hair. “Dendera seems to have purged half of her court and the upper levels of the imperial bureaucracy.”

  “With so many high-born names, it doesn’t surprise me the rebels could wait in ambush. I wonder how many figured someone might rescue them if their friends leaked Tanith’s sailing schedule to the right ears. Other than Custis, I mean.” A wry grin twisted DeCarde’s lips. “Mind you, the imperial government is probably working a bit more efficiently with several of these grandees no longer able to gum up the works with incompetence, venality, and corruption. Who are the common criminals again? And how do we differentiate them from the nobility?”

  Morane snorted. “I’ll have you know the broader Morane lineage includes barons and baronets, most of them lauded for their honesty and integrity. Although there are none in my immediate and almost extinct branch of the family.”

  “Not among the DeCardes. Family lore says the Ancestor forbade any of his descendants from accepting a title, on pain of having his or her name stricken from the family tree.”

  “Not even a hint of nobility in your lineage? I find that hard to swallow, Colonel.”

  “Ever noticed the dearth of titled officers in the Marine Corps?”

  “As opposed to the Imperial Guards? Sure. I always attributed it to the Ruggero dynasty’s deep dislike for you jarheads.”

  “Distrust would be a more apt term, though the dynasty hasn’t showered us with honors and awards either.”

  Sister Gwenneth discreetly cleared her throat. “I see a member of my Order among the convicts, Captain Morane. Friar Locarno. His presence aboard among those courtiers could indicate he was one of Dendera’s confessors.”

  “Should we ask Centurion Barca to decant him, Sister?”

  Gwenneth nodded. “If you would.”

  “Very well. Friar Locarno is on the decanting list. But we still should identify individuals capable of sailing Tanith to safety.”

  Mikkel, or at least her hologram, since she was still occupying the bridge command chair and not physically in the CIC, exhaled noisily. “I hate to say this, Skipper, but judging by the prisoner manifest, we’re the only people within reach capable of sailing a starship. There’s not a single spacer among them. No doubt the smarter ones might be able, with help from the ship’s AI, to carry out a successful wormhole transit, but making it home to Wyvern, let alone evading hostile forces of any kind, is probably beyond them. Perhaps it would be kinder to set nuclear demolition devices around her antimatter containment vessels and be done with the problem. After we remove the wayward friar.”

  “Or we take them with us.”

  “You want to pollute our sanctuary with useless nobles, government drones, and hardened criminals?” Mikkel’s voice rose by an octave. “I thought the whole point was to preserve the best of humanity so our descendants might hasten a rebirth, not to saddle us with specimens of the very people who helped push a thousand year empire toward collapse.”

  “Isn’t respecting the sanctity of life in the midst of a murderous madness an example of the best our flawed species can muster?” Morane asked in a gentle voice.

  “Let them sail to Parth under our guidance and hope they find salvation there.”

  “Salvation? Or death? We don’t know who is in charge. But if it’s the people who destroyed the 12th Battle Group and murdered Tanith’s crew, we’d once again find that the more humane answer is executing them with due care right now.”

  “Did I ever menti
on you’re a stubborn specimen, Skipper?”

  “Not in so many words. If we were to take Tanith along—”

  “Provided she can travel FTL and make wormhole transits. She still needs a complete survey by our engineers. Colonel DeCarde’s people are highly competent, but they’re Marines, not spacers.”

  “Of course. If we were to take Tanith along, who would you consider as prize crew? No need for an immediate answer, but by the end of the watch. Vanquish is best placed to spare a few officers and ratings.”

  “Provided most, if not all convicts stay in stasis.”

  “That goes without saying, Iona.”

  “Let me give the matter some thought, Skipper,” Mikkel replied in a grudging tone. “Meanwhile, might I suggest we stick to decanting Sister Gwenneth’s colleague and leave it at that?”

  “Sir?”

  Morane turned to Lettis. “What is it, Chief?”

  “The long-range sensors aimed at Parth just picked up several energy spikes congruent with six or seven starships lighting up to break out of orbit.”

  “What’s the time lag?”

  “Just under twenty hours, Captain.”

  “Meaning they could be FTL by now and almost here.”

  Creswell grimaced. “Maybe the traffic control buoy saw something, and they finally decided it was worth investigating. Mind you, since this system has five wormhole termini, there’s a good chance those starships are headed elsewhere.”

  “Nonetheless,” Mikkel said, “I suggest we act as if they’re headed here, just in case. The debris field that used to be the 12th Imperial Battle Group is proof whoever owns this system isn’t playing tiddlywinks.”

  “Meaning we need to be FTL in the direction of Wormhole Parth Four as soon as possible.”

  “Not without a survey, and if there’s more wrong than a few outer airlock hatches torn open, we will not have time for repairs. We don’t even know if we can quickly restore hull integrity by fixing those hatches or sealing the airlocks off. I wouldn’t want to risk multiple FTL jumps and wormhole transits with compromised integrity.” Mikkel paused. “And before anyone suggests we decant five hundred and sixteen humans right now and take them aboard our three — sorry, four ships, think again. Narwhal and Vanquish are at their maximum already, at least for anything more than a short jump, and I doubt Myrtale and Dawn Trader have space or environmental systems capacity between them for over five hundred added passengers.”

  Morane allowed himself a few well-chosen words but kept his voice to a whisper. “Then Lieutenant Vietti better survey Tanith right away. Ask Roman Pavlich to assemble a team and get them over there as soon as possible.”

  “Apologies for barging in,” Commander Lori Ryzkov, Narwhal’s captain said over the battle group command link. “But I may have a solution.”

  — 31 —

  “Go ahead, Lori.”

  Commander Ryzkov’s sharp features materialized on a side display. “I’m not sure if any of you know this, but they designed Monokeros class replenishment ships like Narwhal, Licorne, Oryx and the rest to mate with a large transport pod, effectively tripling the ship’s carrying capacity. It’s why she has that unusual concave underside and a gull-wing shaped hyperdrive pylon and nacelle configuration. When they designed the Monokeros class, the theory was to build a transport that could become anything a strike force commander needed by simply adding a pod. Add a shuttle carrier pod, and we become an assault ship; plug in a personnel pod, and we can become an orbiting battle station; give us a pod carrying orbit to surface containers, and we can seed any planet with the wherewithal to build Marine ground bases. That was the theory. Unfortunately, the Admiralty never really put it into practice. Money to build a fleet of pods was diverted to other projects, and the Monokeroses were turned into regular replenishment vessels.”

  “And you’re proposing to haul Tanith as if she were a pod.”

  “Aye, sir. She’s wider, longer and has more mass, and there’s no way we can mate her to Narwhal as cleanly as a purpose-built pod. However, I’m sure that between my grappling arms and tractor beams, I can hold her in place long enough to escape this system while she’s surveyed and repaired. The only issue is my hyperspace bubble. It will essentially be twice as big, meaning I won’t be able to push into the higher hyperspace bands, and of course, I will leave a more easily detected trace. Wormhole transit shouldn’t be an issue. My shields were not only designed to envelop a pod but also given a healthy margin in case the Admiralty came up with bigger pods.”

  Morane studied Ryzkov for a few moments. “It can’t be that easy, Lori. What aren’t you telling me?”

  A faint gleam of embarrassment leavened with annoyance briefly crossed her limpid blue eyes. “There’s a tiny, really tiny chance we won’t be able to balance out the combination of Narwhal and Tanith sufficiently for a safe transition to hyperspace. That’s because we can’t mate with her as closely as with a purpose-built pod and we’re stuck estimating the effect she’ll have on our total mass to power ratio.”

  “Meaning?”

  “An attempt to go FTL might, in the worst of circumstances, fail. Perhaps even spectacularly.”

  “I see.” Morane ran his hand through his hair as he processed the implications of her admission. “Am I right to assume you’re proposing this course of action because you feel the risk of failure can be managed?”

  “I believe so, sir.”

  DeCarde cleared her throat. “If I may interject, Narwhal is carrying half of my battalion, more people than her entire crew. As their commanding officer, I think I deserve a say in risking their lives for the sake of an equal number of convicts, some of whom actually deserve a long stay in a penal colony.”

  Everyone in the CIC, plus Ryzkov and Mikkel stared at DeCarde. Narwhal’s captain was the first to react. She inclined her head in acknowledgment.

  “Point taken, Colonel. But I would not propose this course of action if I thought the risk to your Marines as well as my own crew was unacceptable. My people and I are confident we can pull this off with minimal problems.”

  “Because of your extensive experience hauling pods and other assorted naval implements?”

  A tiny smile tugged at Ryzkov’s lips. “As a matter of fact, my coxswain is one of the few still serving who’ve worked with pods. Not in Narwhal, but in her sister ship Eland. I’ve never suspected him of minimizing risks. On the contrary. If he believes it’s workable, then so do I.”

  DeCarde gave her a grudging nod.

  “Very well then. As a fellow beneficiary of advice from noncoms with more experience than I’ll ever accumulate, you have my agreement. And before Sister Gwenneth joins this debating society, I’ll say it. What happens, happens. The Void giveth and the Void taketh. Blessed be the Void.”

  “Indeed.” Gwenneth gave DeCarde an amused glance. “And the Almighty blesses those who put humanity before self.”

  Morane clapped his hands once. “Then we’re in agreement. Narwhal may go up systems and maneuver to close the distance with Tanith. Lieutenant Vietti?”

  The gunnery officer’s disembodied voice echoed from the CIC’s speakers. “Sir.”

  “Do you think you can bring Tanith’s thrusters online, flip her end for end and reverse or at least kill her momentum without overstraining the inertial dampeners? Otherwise, Narwhal will be forced to circle around, and there’s not enough time.”

  “If her systems are still working, sure. I’ll know in a few minutes.”

  “Go.”

  “Barca here, Captain. Do you still want us to wake the friar?”

  Morane glanced at Gwenneth who shook her head. “Your people have more pressing things to do. Locarno can wait.”

  **

  Barca heard dry retching over the boarding party’s radio frequency and turned to see Vietti leaning against the bridge’s open doorway.

  “You okay, Peg?”

  Vietti waved feebly, then said in a reedy voice, “I wasn’t expecting this — this b
utchery.” She retched again. “Sorry about that, and don’t worry, my breakfast hasn’t made a run for it yet.”

  “I suppose we should dispose of the remains if we’re to bring this tub with us to the Promised Land. Sergeant Tejko?”

  “Sir?”

  “If you’ve been monitoring the command frequency, you’ll know we’re taking Tanith. That means disposing of the bodies and sanitizing the ship.”

  “Roger that, sir. May I suggest we bring Anno Leung’s troop aboard via the port side main airlock? Extra hands will make lighter work.”

  Vietti, who’d found an unoccupied console and was now sitting with her back to the remains raised her arm. “I can do one better. The bastards didn’t waste time sabotaging the ship’s systems. I’ll open the hangar deck doors for the other two shuttles. It won’t be pressurized, but people can cycle through the inner airlocks. I’ll need all the Navy folks I can get to help me right this tub.”

  “Acknowledged,” both shuttle pilots said almost simultaneously and without prompting.

  “And I suppose someone should bring my shuttle in as well. It won’t do to leave it sitting on the hull like a damned carbuncle when Narwhal swoops in to make sweet starship love. Besides, we have to somehow close the hatches that were forced. I’ll need a few of your Marines for that, Adri.”

  “Whatever you need, Peg. And it just so happens I’m qualified as a Marine dropship pilot. It’s been a few years since I sat in the hot seat, but if you want, I can bring your shuttle in. I promise not to scratch its pristine paint job.”

  Vietti snorted. “That thing hasn’t been pristine since before I entered the Imperial Academy. Go for it. There’s more than enough for three of me to do here if we want to be ready when Narwhal shows up. And if you could put a priority on getting the stiffs off my bridge, I’d be ever so grateful.”