Imperial Sunset

by Eric Thomson

  “Of course. And if I may provide a modicum of explanation. I fear there might be a chance that my revealing the identity of the person in question could prove fatal in present company. But since I come from the poisonous atmosphere of the imperial palace on Wyvern and know nothing of you, your followers and your quest, a jaundiced view of everyone wearing the imperial uniform might unjustly contaminate my views.”

  “I understand. But if only for precision’s sake, please keep in mind the uniform we wear is no longer that of those who pledge allegiance to the empire. Or of those who’ve thrown their lot in with one of the many warlords claiming suzerainty over various parts of the frontier.”

  “I got that from your officers safeguarding Tanith, Captain. They were refreshingly truthful and candid. Quite a change after a lifetime at court, watching the Ruggero dynasty chip away at the consensus that has allowed our species a millennium of peace. My compliments. I forgot that such still exist away from the miasma of the imperial capital.”

  Vietti raised a hand as if asking for permission to speak. “I’ll fly Friar Locarno to Dawn Trader aboard one of my shuttles, sir. If you’ll delay our going FTL for a bit.”

  “Very well. Make it so.” He turned to the signals petty officer. “Please warn Captain Rinne he’s about to receive a shuttle from Tanith with one of his Order aboard.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  “Rinne?” Locarno asked.

  Morane nodded. “Yes.”

  The smile on Locarno’s face went a long way to softening his severe mien. “It’s been a long time, but when both of us were younger, we troubled our superiors in the Order regularly. Until they separated us by sending him to apprentice as a starship officer and me as counselor to the noble born. That was a long time ago, Captain. Before you were born.”

  “Then you’ll be in familiar hands, Friar.”

  **

  With the 197th once more in FTL and headed for the next wormhole terminus, Mikkel found DeCarde and Morane in the latter’s day cabin. For once, Sister Gwenneth wasn’t there with that eerily unnerving, watchful gaze.

  “Everything clear, Iona?”

  “The ship is secure, Skipper.”

  “In that case, join us. What do you think about this Friar Locarno business?”

  “Another perplexing development brought to us by an Order best defined as a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma,” the first officer said, heading for the samovar and a cup of Morane’s tea. “But I’ll venture a guess we’re dealing with a prisoner who was once close to the throne. Closer than Grand Duke Custis or the Imperial Chamberlain. Another victim of Dendera’s growing madness.”

  “That’ll be a very limited number of individuals, I should think,” DeCarde said. “Surely we can figure this out ourselves if the Brethren don’t feel inclined to share.”

  Morane made a face. “While speculating is fun, I don’t intend to press the point. Rinne, Gwenneth and the rest know their survival depends on ours. If they believe keeping this prisoner’s identity under wraps for now is necessary and doesn’t imperil us, I’m willing to let matters lie.”

  “You’re more tolerant than I when it comes to the Order of the Void playing games,” DeCarde said. “But you’re also in command.”

  “Being tolerant does not equate to being happy, Brigid. Since I’ve taken up the responsibility to see us reach a safe harbor, everything about the people and ships in our caravan concerns me. Especially if we carry a politically sensitive person whose escape might trigger interest from various parties that could do us harm. By now, the rebel forces in Parth will have passed the word to their allies that a Monokeros class transport escorted by a small battle group is carrying an Imperial Prison Service starship with a person or persons of interest aboard. Anyone we meet in the Coalsack Sector could well be on the lookout and try to arraign us if they’re of sufficient strength.”

  “Even more reason to take the network’s less traveled routes.”

  A mocking smile twisted Morane’s lips. “Even though we’ll be passing through a triple star system?”

  “Better than a quadruple. But it’ll still take us through Lorien and Mentari, two systems with minor colonies, before we reach the biggest obstacle, Arietis. Thankfully, neither boast a permanent naval presence.”

  “True.”

  Mikkel’s communicator chirped for attention. “Yes?”

  “Cox’n here, sir. The bosun just broke up another fight. Both are in sickbay, though it doesn’t appear serious.”

  “I’m with the captain, Chief. Will this be another case of bosun’s punishment or is it time for a captain’s mast?”

  “Let us chiefs and petty officers deal with it, sir. A captain’s mast won’t cure the cafard or help ease homesickness. Hard work has a better chance of success.”

  Mikkel glanced at Morane who nodded, then said, “It’s in your hands, Chief.”

  “Aye, aye, sir. Cox’n, out.”

  “Let’s hope this was not the symptom of a coming epidemic.” Morane glanced at DeCarde. “Any incidents in your battalion so far?”

  She shook her head. “None that were brought to my notice, which doesn’t mean my troopers aren’t feeling a touch of the old cafard as well. However, Marine noncoms know how to stop fights before they start and are even better at finding mind-numbing physical activities to prevent wandering spirits from going mentally absent without leave. And, as much as it pains the DeCarde in me who believes in family lore to make this admission, Sisters Gwenneth and Katarin are proving useful in helping my less stoic Marines aboard Vanquish keep the megrims at bay, as are the sisters aboard Narwhal. Or so I’ve been told.”

  “Surprise, surprise.” Morane smiled at her.

  “But I still don’t trust their motives.”

  **

  “Are we sure this damned system is still inhabited?” Chief Lettis asked under his breath once the first sensor scans of Lorien came back. Then, in a louder tone, “Nothing to report, Captain.”

  “Any wormhole traffic control buoys?”

  “Not here.”

  “No subspace carrier waves to indicate there are working buoys at the other termini,” the signals petty officer added. “No system relay and I’m not picking up any radio waves. If someone’s alive on Lorien, they’re not broadcasting, period.”

  Morane studied the tactical projection, then called up a navigation plot showing their course between this wormhole terminus and the one through which they planned to exit the Lorien system.

  “Iona, I’d like to pass within sensor range of the planet and find out what happened to the colony. The last census update, only two years old, showed over twenty thousand colonists. We need to dogleg it with two jumps on this crossing anyway. Our ingress and egress wormholes are in direct opposition. Jumping inward and cruising by the planet before the outward leg won’t cost us much in terms of time. Only a day.”

  When Creswell saw DeCarde’s quizzical look, she whispered, “A single jump would take us smack dab through the star, and you can’t do that, even in hyperspace.”

  “Ah, of course. Thanks.”

  “As you wish, Skipper, but there’s no room for more strays.”

  “I merely want to see what happened to Lorien. No radio waves whatsoever coming from that planet bodes ill.”

  “You’re thinking another Palmyra?” DeCarde asked.

  Morane’s face twisted into a sad grimace. “That is my fear, Brigid. And if Lorien suffered the same fate, it is only right someone should bear witness to the colony’s disappearance.”

  “Course is laid in, and ships are synced, Skipper.”

  “Thank you, Iona. You may start the countdown to FTL jump at your leisure.”

  Mikkel’s leisure proved to be short. The five-minute warning klaxon sounded almost before Morane finished speaking.

  — 40 —

  “Still nothing. Not even satellites in orbit, or at least none that are active.” Lorien, a violently green orb mottled with dark
patches, was glowing malevolently on the CIC’s main display as Vanquish and her consorts neared their closest point of approach.

  “No radio waves either.”

  “Doesn’t seem welcoming,” DeCarde remarked. “There’s something about the colors that is giving me the faintest bit of unease.”

  “Perhaps it’s not the colors,” Gwenneth said in a quiet voice.

  The Marine swallowed a sigh. “What do you mean, Sister?”

  “Over twenty thousand souls called Lorien home two years ago, yet we seem unable to find any evidence they still live.”

  “Perhaps the colonists moved to a safer place.”

  Gwenneth turned her eyes on DeCarde. “You don’t believe that, do you?”

  The latter hesitated, then finally said, “No.”

  “And therein lies the source of your unease.”

  Almost an hour passed before Chief Lettis spoke again. “I found the main settlement, Captain. Or what’s left of it. The sensors aren’t detecting any human life signs though there’s plenty alive down there.”

  “Put it on the main display.”

  “Are you sure, sir? It’s pretty grisly.”

  “We’re here to bear witness, Chief. To remember the twenty thousand who suffered because empresses, viceroys, admirals and other assorted power-seekers couldn’t remember that their first duty was to the empire’s common citizens and not their own self-aggrandizement.”

  When the first image of ravaged houses and dismembered corpses fill the screen, Sister Gwenneth began to pray, softly, but with deep feeling.

  “Looks like this happened a while ago,” Creswell said. “Judging by the degree of decomposition.” She winced as a new image appeared. “Are those decapitated children?”

  A pale-faced Lettis nodded. “There’s worse to come, Commander.”

  DeCarde swallowed the bile rising in her throat with difficulty before speaking. “What manner of being does this?”

  “The sort that considers any life but their own, or that of their clan to be inferior and unworthy of respect, Colonel. Humans have a long history of inhumanity. I fear those who fled beyond the pale centuries ago bred a progeny no longer possessing the inhibitions we take for granted.”

  “And that progeny is returning to take what the empire denied their forebears. A cheerful thought, Sister. But at least we won’t face any moral quandaries when we kill them.” DeCarde half expected Gwenneth to mumble something about the Almighty and the sanctity of life, yet she nodded in agreement.

  “We should not kill wantonly, Colonel. However, the Almighty will not condemn those who kill beings intent on destroying what is good.”

  “Nice to know. Because watching that horror show is making my trigger finger itch something fierce.”

  Image after image from the sensor feed crossed the CIC’s display, each with fresh horrors until everyone was numb. Finally, even Morane could no longer bear witness.

  “Enough, Chief. Annalise, target the settlement with a nuclear warhead. We can’t leave them like that.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.” Creswell sounded hoarse with suppressed rage.

  “Once the missile is on its way, Iona, we can accelerate back toward the hyperlimit. The Lorien system has slipped into the badlands, perhaps forever.”

  **

  “So far, so good,” Mikkel said after Chief Lettis reported all-clear. “Even though we passed through a triple system, this is indeed Mentari, our last low-risk crossing before Arietis. I’d say we’ve been extraordinarily lucky since shaking off our little rebel-induced misstep when we fled Parth. Maybe waking that ancient friar brought us good fortune.”

  “We’ll need that and more once we transit through Wormhole Mentari Three. I’ll wager the admiral in charge on the Arietis side will have left something guarding his termini, even the one leading to a minor colonized system like Mentari. Especially now that it’s clear marauders are creeping out of the badlands and testing the Coalsack Sector’s defenses.”

  Holographic Mikkel made a face. “And there’s no way but through Arietis. I know. Our supplies are insufficient for another long, roundabout run. Nor will Narwhal last for more than perhaps a dozen wormhole transits before the strain of carrying Tanith finally turns her into another derelict needing a ride. Lori Ryzkov just reported more microscopic stress fractures in her outer hull. She didn’t sound worried yet, but once these things start, they’ll keep coming unless the cause of the stress goes away.”

  “And we can’t cut Tanith loose.”

  DeCarde smirked at Gwenneth. “At least not without knowing which personage of high importance is hiding among the stasis stiffs.”

  “The Brethren deemed it prudent to wait until we reach our destination,” the sister replied in a tone suffused with such indulgent patience that the Marine wanted to scream. The knowing expression on her face when she gazed at DeCarde just made matters worse.

  But then, everyone’s tempers were fraying. The 6th of the 21st experienced its first disciplinary incident aboard Narwhal three days earlier when two privates from A Squadron pushed a friendly bout of wrestling into a violent release of pent-up anger. Neither could explain why he turned into a berserker and DeCarde let the squadron commander apply informal punishment.

  “Might I suggest you consider subterfuge to aid in traversing the Arietis system, Captain?”

  Morane swiveled his command chair to look at Gwenneth. “What do you mean?”

  “On balance of probabilities, the local commander will be one of Admiral Zahar’s officers. Enter the system as if you were under orders from the admiral. You can project utter confidence when you so wish.”

  “Ah. You mean bluff?”

  “I think the sister means bullshit our way through, Skipper. I can think of worse plans.”

  “You may call it what you wish, but it is a practical option, one that could see us pass through without a fight. And you can do so with ease, Captain.”

  Gwenneth’s eyes held a spark of something undefinable as she gazed back at Morane and he felt strangely inspired by her calm certainty. He wondered once more about DeCarde’s family lore concerning the Sisters of the Void.

  “We will enter the Arietis system in our accustomed manner, by going silent so we can see what if anything might be lurking. Once the situation is clear, I shall decide on our best course of action. But first, the 197th must cross this system.”

  “Did you want to pass near the colony, Skipper?”

  “Are sensors and signals picking up any anomalies?”

  “No,” Lettis and the signals petty officer replied in unison.

  “Everything appears normal, sir,” the latter said. “Plenty of radio waves from Mentari itself, and there’s a subspace carrier wave from a system relay.”

  “No starship traffic, but Mentari’s satellite constellation is operational.”

  “In that case, we’ll cross to Wormhole Mentari Three in one jump and avoid broadcasting our presence.” He sighed. “Funnily enough, it still pains me to say it. There was a day when patrolling Navy ships visited every inhabited world on their route to check with the colonists, discuss any problems or concerns. Offer a little help.”

  “That day might come back.”

  Morane gave DeCarde a sad smile. “I hope so, but it will happen long after we’re gone.”

  “I agree. Which means as I read somewhere, the only thing we can do is figure out how best to live the life we’ve been given.”

  “You’re turning philosophical, Colonel. Congratulations.”

  “Perhaps condolences would be more appropriate. I used to be a simple Marine before I threw my lot in with you. Perhaps I will regret letting that person slip away.”

  “Regrets are a futile human affectation,” Gwenneth said. “The past is gone, and nothing can change what was.”

  “And our future, death, is the undiscovered country from which no visitor returns.” DeCarde made a face. “On a certain level, I envy you and Captain Morane, Sister. You both
seem to follow a guiding light, something drawing you forward, a belief that the rest of us mere mortals lack. Call it faith, a vision or whatever you wish. Those of us who don’t share in that belief need to find a reason elsewhere, otherwise it becomes difficult to see why we should continue on the path we’re shown.”

  “I never thought you for a doubter, Colonel.”

  A sardonic grin met Morane’s words.

  “I doubt everything, sir. But I also try to find meaning in everything and hope for a balance. Right now, my meaning is survival. That of my troopers and my own. The rebirth of a new empire, long after we’re dust, is of little importance by comparison.”

  Gwenneth, uncharacteristically, laid a hand on DeCarde’s arm. “Your sentiments are not only understandable, they’re also human. Few are able to see beyond a mortal lifetime.”

  “But you can?”

  “My Order has existed since long before the birth of the empire, and it will exist long after the empire’s current incarnation is dust. We are among the few whose duty is to see beyond a mortal lifetime, and it has been so since our creation. Even then, not all Brethren can accept the idea with equanimity. Many struggle with the concept we exist to serve a cause that transcends our brief lifespans.” Gwenneth nodded at Morane. “Though it appears our shepherd has a firm grasp of what the long view means.”

  “Then I’m glad one of us does, Sister. As I keep reminding myself, we Marines are not on this voyage by choice but by chance.”

  Gwenneth’s lips twisted into that mysterious smile DeCarde found so infuriating. “The Almighty leaves little to chance, Colonel. You and your battalion are on this journey for a purpose, though it might not become plain any time soon, if ever.”

  “This is one of those moments when I wish I possessed your faith, Sister.”

  “Each of us follows his or her our own path to the Almighty, and we all eventually pass through the Void, even hardened skeptics from the DeCarde lineage.” Gwenneth stood. “If you’ll excuse me, our conversation is a reminder of my duty to those in Vanquish.”

  Morane and DeCarde watched her leave the CIC while the rest of the crew pretended they didn’t overhear the conversation. Then, the Marine said, “As much as I try to ignore her mysterious statements, I really wouldn’t mind knowing what she meant by hardened skeptics from the DeCarde lineage.”