Imperial Sunset

by Eric Thomson

  “We would be mad to refuse such an increase in our own defense forces. However, unlike the late, unlamented empire, we don’t pay lip service to democracy, and as I said, there will be concern about landing hundreds of monastics and political prisoners, never mind increasing military expenditures.” She paused, though her eyes kept studying Morane. “You mentioned scans of colonies that were attacked.”

  “Indeed, Madame.”

  “Evidence of what happens without a prepared defense will go a long way to convince doubters. We were lucky this time. Without your warning, I shudder to think how many might be dead.”

  “I’ll see that our records are transmitted right away.”

  Yakin and Logran exchanged glances, then the former nodded. “If you’d be so kind, Captain. You’ve given me much to think about and discuss with our leading citizens. I shall contact you again once I’ve done so. In the meantime, please go ahead and land your Marines and the monastics. Major Kayne’s troops can use their help to remove reiver bodies and clean up the damage in Trevena and Carhaix. But can I count on your keeping everyone else confined to Lannion Base so as not to spread rumors about what’s happening in the wider galaxy? Folks are already traumatized by today’s events and need not know right away that our situation has irrevocably changed.”

  “Of course.” Morane glanced to one side and nodded. “You should receive the scan copies about now. May I also land the prison ship? Without decanting the prisoners, of course.”

  Yakin hesitated. “If you must. Until later, Captain.” The CIC’s display went dark.

  “Bridge to the captain.”

  “Yes, Iona.”

  “Narwhal and Dawn Trader dropped out of FTL and are inbound. When they get here, Narwhal would like to release Tanith and take the time for a full survey, in case the stresses from the prison ship make entering Lyonesse’s gravity well too risky. Captain Ryzkov proposes to land her Marines by shuttlecraft.”

  “Permission granted for Narwhal to separate from Tanith, stay in orbit and transfer the Marines by shuttle. Dawn Trader is to land first, followed by the Marines, then Tanith.”

  **

  Vanquish’s shuttles settled one after the other on the Lannion Base tarmac, touching down light as feathers. The whine of their thrusters faded away as the pilots dropped their aft ramps and the squadron’s first sergeants ordered their Pathfinders off and into formation.

  DeCarde, followed by Sergeant Major Bayn and Centurion Haller, made her way toward the knot of people waiting at the base of the cliff, near one of the people-sized doors. A few wore Navy blue battledress, the others Marine Corps green.

  Yet while the latter sported Marine-style rank insignia, the unit badge on their field caps seemed almost garish and distinctly nonstandard. It showed a double-headed avian, perhaps something native to Lyonesse, wings spread and clutching crossed antique rifles. The badge didn’t include an imperial crown.

  As DeCarde neared, a major — she recognized him as Kayne, the commander of the militia — barked out something in a rough baritone and the delegation snapped to attention. He saluted.

  “Welcome, Colonel. I’m Matti Kayne.”

  She returned the compliment before removing her battlesuit’s right gauntlet and extended her hand. “Brigid DeCarde. I understand you’re a Marine.”

  “Thirty years in the Corps. 77th Regiment. The Land Raptors.” He returned her grip with a wiry strength that felt effortless.

  “I’ve never worked with the 77th, but it’s still considered a good outfit, though it’ll likely be part of the rebellion by now. Most of the Marine regiments in the outlying sectors forswore their allegiance to the Crown.”

  Kayne nodded at the Navy officer standing to his left. “May I introduce Lieutenant Hetty Grimes? She’s the supply depot’s commanding officer, and therefore in charge of Lannion Base.”

  DeCarde held out her hand. “A pleasure, Lieutenant.”

  “Sir.”

  “You’ve been here long?”

  “Going on six years, sir.” Her eyes shifted toward Kayne for a second. “And I expect I’ll do like the major. Retire here, I mean. Considering what one hears about the Navy these days.”

  Kayne cleared his throat. “May I introduce Centurion Greff, my operations officer, and Sergeant Major Havel? Both also served in the Land Raptors. A fair number of us retired here when the regiment left. Governor Yakin pretty much formed the militia around us.”

  With the remaining introductions out of the way, Kayne glanced at B and D Squadrons, then back at DeCarde. “Is that your entire command, Colonel?”

  “No. Only those who traveled in Vanquish. The rest is coming from Narwhal. We’re five hundred and fifty-two in total.”

  “You’ll fit into the old barracks without problems, sir.” Kayne pointed at a cluster of small ground floor doors topped by several levels’ worth of windows past the last of the big warehouse portals. “That’s where the 77th used to live. The Colonial Militia occupies a small part of the installation. Most of my soldiers are part-timers and live across the settlement area.”

  “What’s your strength?”

  “Approximately one thousand, with ninety on full-time duty. I have companies in all seven major centers: Trevena, Carhaix, Caffrey, Arran, High Bend, North Wall and here in Lannion. They’re good people, dedicated.”

  “And they can certainly fight. Congratulations. Most colonial militias can barely shoot, let alone set the sort of ambush you carried out.”

  Kayne shrugged. “We were lucky to hear your warning, sir. Without it, I doubt you and I would be speaking right now.”

  “Next time and Captain Morane is convinced there will be a next time, we’ll be here, fighting right along with you. Now how about we see that this bunch is settled in before the rest land?”

  — 56 —

  Captain Jonas Morane came down the shuttle’s ramp with a spring in his step and a smile on his face. He wore a naval dress uniform, midnight blue with gold bullion rank stripes on the sleeves, several rows of ribbons on his left breast and a starship captain’s wreathed star on the right. The insignia on his blue beret still bore the Imperial Navy’s starburst and anchor, but the crown that used to top them was gone.

  DeCarde and Kayne came to attention and saluted. Morane returned the compliment and asked, “How was your first night ashore, Colonel?”

  “Strange. The 77th did a good job sealing the barracks before they left, meaning our new quarters are pristine, but it’s astounding how one gets used to a starship’s background hum. I’m not used to the silence of a planetary night.”

  Morane turned to Kayne and stuck out his hand. “A pleasure to meet you in person, Major. The militia’s defense of Lyonesse was masterful. I understand you and Colonel DeCarde share a common background. That should make working together so much easier.” Then he noticed DeCarde’s uniform, the Marine Corps equivalent of the one he wore, except rifle green and trimmed with silver piping and insignia. Her qualification devices and medal ribbons put his to shame.

  “You carried your fancy suit all the way here, Brigid?”

  DeCarde chuckled. “No. The original is still in a warehouse on Aramis, with the rest of our personal gear, which we’ll never see again. The supply depot has fabricators, and when you told me we were to meet the colony’s executive council, I asked one of the chiefs to run up a dress uniform. They were doing them for the Colonial Militia, so it wasn’t much of a stretch to enter Marine Corps specs, as you can see.”

  Morane studied Kayne’s uniform, cut in the same pattern as DeCarde’s but in a lighter shade of green, with blackened insignia and trim. “Interesting regimental badge, Major. What is that double-headed creature?”

  “A Vanger’s Condor. The real version is not actually double-headed. That’s just a bit of fancy from the guy who designed Lyonesse’s original coat of arms. The true, single-headed condor is the largest raptor analog on Lyonesse, with a four-meter wingspan. You can find them up north, in the high sier
ras.” Kayne nodded at distant purple peaks stretching across the horizon.

  “Sounds like an impressive creature. I’d like to see one someday. I gather the militia is providing our transport?”

  “It is,” DeCarde said. “Major Kayne and his people are hospitable to a fault. My battalion is settling in comfortably with their help, as are the Brethren.”

  Morane inclined his head. “Thank you, Major. I’d enjoy taking a grand tour of Lannion Base after the meeting. Where is Sister Gwenneth?”

  Kayne pointed at a waiting ground car with Colonial Militia markings behind them.

  “Waiting for us, sir. Shall we?”

  As they fell into step beside him, DeCarde said, “It surprised me they didn’t appoint Rinne as their representative.”

  “He told me the membership felt she could best explain that which requires explaining. In practically those words.”

  At their approach, the passenger door opened and Kayne ushered them in. Morane nodded a greeting at the solemn sister. “I trust you’re well?”

  “Quite, Captain, now that we’ve reached sanctuary. I understand the environmental systems in Dawn Trader were feeling the strain and my Brethren the aroma.”

  Morane settled in beside Gwenneth while DeCarde and Kayne took the facing seats. At a gesture from the latter, the driver, a militia private, gunned the car’s fans.

  The Marine gestured toward her seatmate. “Major Kayne has seen our war diary, including the visual record of the fighting and atrocities on Coraline as well as the scans from the Lorien and Palmyra massacres.”

  Morane gave the militia officer a questioning look.

  “And?”

  Kayne grimaced. “I’ve not seen anything so nasty in my entire thirty years as a Marine, sir. If that evil is spreading, then the empire is truly fucked. As far as I can remember, reivers never used to do more than the odd hit and run, not commit outright massacres. And taking humans as slaves? I thought we’d stomped that crap out centuries ago.” He shook his head. “We really owe you for the warning, and for showing up, sir.”

  “More marauders will eventually come sniffing at our wormhole terminus. A distant outpost like this one, with no known permanent garrison, looks like low-hanging fruit, wormhole junction or not. If they can find the fuel, some might even come the long way, crossing interstellar space in FTL.”

  “And a thousand strong militia, dispersed along Tristan’s southern shore, won’t be enough. I doubt we’ll ever get another timely warning such as yours.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what the leading colonists will say about your arrival, or your knowledge vault plan, let alone Sister Gwenneth’s Brethren and the political prisoners. But after yesterday’s battle, I for one am glad the militia is no longer alone.”

  **

  The usual pair of Colonial Militia soldiers, now back in dress uniform, stood at the head of Government House’s stairs. They shouldered their weapons with crisp, precise movements the moment Kayne’s car came to a halt.

  Even if DeCarde, normally no fan of planetary forces, didn’t know about their performance against the reivers, she would gladly concede they looked anything but sloppy. When Morane climbed out first at Kayne’s urging, the soldiers silently presented arms and held that position as the delegation passed between them. Morane returned the compliment with a salute that would please any coxswain in the Fleet.

  Inside the mansion, Governor Yakin’s private secretary, Wickham Sandford, greeted them with exquisite politeness.

  “Her Excellency is waiting for you in the main drawing room with Chief Administrator Logran and Speaker of the Council Hecht. If you’ll follow me.” He led them to a set of double doors, then came to his customary precise, almost military halt on the threshold. “Your Excellency, Chief Administrator, Speaker of the Council, may I present Captain Jonas Morane of the 197th Battle Group, 19th Fleet, Lieutenant Colonel Brigid DeCarde, Commanding Officer, 6th Battalion, 21st Marine Pathfinder Regiment and Sister Gwenneth, Order of the Void. Accompanying them is Major Kayne, Lyonesse Colonial Militia.”

  He stepped aside and ushered them into Yakin’s presence. She was taller and more slender than Morane expected. Her features seemed sharper in person though the aristocratic air she’d worn the previous day remained. Logran, on the other hand, was precisely as he appeared on the video link — gruff, with a testing grip and eyes that took nothing at face value. Rorik Hecht, in contrast, greeted him with the handshake of a confident, powerful individual.

  Yakin gestured at a settee group. “Please, take your ease. You’ve certainly given us something to think about, Captain. Since you and I first spoke, we four discussed nothing else. As you can imagine, we’re fairly cut off from the mainstream and news comes either via subspace radio or visiting traders. Since the rebellion controlled the nearest subspace arrays and relays, we saw what they wanted us to, and much of that seemed muddled, if not outright confusing. But yesterday’s attack and your evidence proves things are even more chaotic than we imagined.”

  “We’ve only experienced a small part, Madame. However, it was enough to prove the empire is falling into the inexorable grip of entropy. And faster than even I expected. At last count, most of the outer sectors have effectively seceded from the empire, each becoming its own entity under an admiral or viceroy turned warlord. In the Coalsack Sector, as we discovered, unity is proving elusive, and we know of at least one governor general who declared himself viceroy, but without allegiance to the Crown. Grand Duke Custis’ realm is fracturing even while he tries to consolidate his power, as the Navy’s abandonment of Arietis shows.

  “I don’t doubt that the same scenario is repeating itself elsewhere. The empire, at least as we know it, is finished. My concern is what comes next. The chances a new polity uniting humanity will emerge within our lifetimes are virtually nil. The greatest military force in human history and the strongest in the known galaxy is destroying itself through fratricide. With no one and nothing to arrest the slide, this collapse will continue until humanity hits rock bottom. For some, rock bottom means eradication, as with Palmyra and Lorien. Coraline’s state, when Colonel DeCarde and her unit left it, wasn’t encouraging either. Fighting between loyalists and rebels destroyed vital infrastructure, much of it impossible to replace without off-world technology.”

  “So Major Kayne told us after viewing Colonel DeCarde’s war diary. He called the devastation alarming.”

  “I would use another word, Madame. Sister Gwenneth can give you an account of what she and her fellow congregants experienced or saw if you wish to hear more about conditions in the Coalsack Sector.”

  Yakin shook her head. “That will not be necessary. Many of us thought previous reports of unrest and rebellion were exaggerated. But after seeing the evidence you gave us, and our own brush with a barbarian raid, I fear we must face the worst.” She glanced at Hecht.

  “We obviously don’t want to end like either of those unfortunate colonies,” the Speaker said in a gruff tone. “But even though we experienced our own peril, many among the Colonial Council believe your presence here endangers us. Grand Duke Custis might return to Arietis and demand Lyonesse pledge allegiance to him. Yet you claim no allegiance whatsoever. The prison ship you brought, and from which Custis escaped, may still hold interest for him or his followers.” Morane kept a straight face as Hecht spoke. He hadn’t mentioned Friar Locarno’s mysterious prisoner.

  “Then there are the Void Congregants who attracted Admiral Zahar’s undying enmity if he’s ordered so many from the Yotai Abbey put to death. All reasons for us to fear undue attention if not outright retaliation from the rebels.”

  Morane smiled. “I daresay the empress’ portrait and two of the three flags out front won’t help either.”

  A rumble of laughter escaped Hecht’s chest. “He’s got you there, Madame.”

  “I understand how our arrival might alarm your fellow council members, Speaker. However, with both naval and Marine units dwindling in number thanks to t
his madness, neither Custis, nor Zahar, nor anyone else will waste scarce resources whipping a distant, unimportant system into line. They’ll be much too busy exercising control over more important wormhole junctions, something at which they will fail in due course. On some level you know it as well as I do. Otherwise the portrait and flags would be long gone.”

  Yakin gave him what he thought of as a regal nod. “Point well taken, Captain. Of course, I share Speaker Hecht’s concerns, but after yesterday and after seeing what happened to other worlds left unprotected, I’m inclined to overrule the council should it vote against welcoming you.”

  “We would welcome the Navy and Marines without qualms,” Hecht said. “The Void Congregants and political prisoners are another matter.”

  “Yet we come as a single entity, Speaker. I’m pledged to make sure Sister Gwenneth’s people find sanctuary, and cannot in conscience abandon several hundred human beings, most of whom are guilty of nothing more than opposing Dendera. The Void Brethren are anxious to become self-supporting and serve any citizen of Lyonesse who seeks their help. I’m sure the political prisoners will be equally desirous of finding a place here, now they’ve escaped a far worse fate on Parth.”

  Hecht made a dismissive hand gesture.

  “I understand that Captain, and we won’t turn away honest folk with nowhere else to go. I merely want to ensure you understand that an important segment of Lyonesse won’t see your arrival with complete equanimity, in spite of our recent fright. Indeed, the militia’s performance could blind many to the fact that without your warning and intervention, the outcome would have been much worse for us. But I’ll do my best to allay their fears.”

  “Now we’ve agreed to welcome all of you with open arms,” Yakin said, “perhaps we can discuss this human knowledge vault you mentioned yesterday.”

  — 57 —

  “That went rather well.” DeCarde took a seat behind the bare desk in the office portion of her quarters. Carved out of the cliff’s granite by mining lasers, it was one of the privileged few with a real window looking out over the landing strip. Most made do with a simulation keyed to outside video pickups. She waved at Morane and Gwenneth to take the chairs across from her. Kayne’s driver had driven them back from the governor’s mansion, but without the Colonial Militia commander. He’d stayed to discuss yesterday’s militia casualties with Yakin and Logran.