Relic of Empire

by W. Michael Gear

  Ily watched him for several seconds, expression deadpan. “You’re a conniving little bastard, did you know that?”

  “And you’re a power-hungry viper. There, mutual insults have been traded. Now, do you want to launch into me? Do your best to intimidate me so that I don’t upset any more of your plans? Will it really help anything if we scream at each other for a while like mad dogs? Burn out that seething hostility.”

  “Gods Rot you, Sinklar. Why do I constantly underrate you? If I’d have thought, I’d have realized that you’d make your own insurance when you arrived. Very well, you’ve done it. What next?”

  Sinklar walked over to stare at a holo of Rega, dots of light marking the surface-most of which, he noted with approval, were buildings, utilities, and service centers his people controlled.

  “I need those Division Firsts on that list I sent you. In the meantime, I’ve found ten squadron Commanders I think I can use. “

  “They’re all considered to be rather rebellious types.” She stepped out from behind the desk, coming over to stand next to him. Sinklar caught her scent, warm and musky. He found himself noticing that she wasn’t that much taller than he was, and very beautiful. Knock if off! She’s a reptile.

  “I’ve had dinner prepared,” she told him. “We have a lot to discuss, and I’d just as soon we did it somewhere besides my office. Perhaps we could lower our guards and arrive at some solutions to the problems facing us in the next couple of months.”

  He let her take his arm and lead him across the large room. The carpet under his feet swirled and rippled in patterns of yellow, green, and blue.

  She led him into her private quarters, and Sinklar stared in unabashed amazement. A child of public housing, dormitories, and the spartan opulence of Targan mining offices, he’d never seen the like of this. Transparent ceramic arches rose to a high ceiling and filtered light down in every color of the visible spectrum. The carpet was a shimmering sea of blue. The furniture had been sculpted, each piece internally illuminated with slow-moving pulses of light.

  A soft breeze, with an odor he identified as sea spray filled the air.

  “I don’t often see you shocked, Sinklar.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like this. “

  “I can change it if you like. It’s nothing like the rooms in the palace. They’re considerably more sophisticated than this.”

  “So much disparity.” “Disparity?” “Between what I grew up with ... and this. “You’d better get used to it. You’re a Lord now.

  For all intents and purposes, the co-ruler of this empire.”

  Sinklar nodded, following her to a jetwood table that rose barely above the level of the floor. Mirrorbright spheres appeared to be sunken into the hard wood. Ily gracefully settled herself, pulling a pillow over to prop her back. She made a gesture and the spheres rolled back to expose a delicious feast of roast lamb, some sort of fowl, Riparian crawfish, and a variety of fruits and vegetables.

  “Eat,” Ily told him. “Enjoy yourself. Before we pitch into business, relax.”

  Sinklar eyed her cautiously. “How about business first ... and then we’ll relax.”

  “Very well.” Ily reached for one of the fowl. “Ashtan game hen,” she told him-and began pulling the bird apart. As she placed tender meat in her mouth, she asked, “Where would you like to start?”

  “Training and supplies. I’ve got to place an entire army on war footing. I have to replace the command structure and retrain entire Divisions to use my tactics. It will be expensive and disruptive. Will you support me?”

  She licked her fingers with an agile tongue. “I will. Will you allow me to run the rest of the Empire as I wish?”

  Sinklar stripped the tenderloin from the lamb, uncomfortable about the protocol of the meal. “That depends. But then, I guess all the cards are on the table. Let’s play each one and see where we end up.”

  Ily observed him, aware of the mollifying sensations of a full stomach and the heady Ashtan malt liquor she’d served. Rich and dark, its alcohol content ran fifteen percent or more. The subtle music she’d programmed had soothing subliminals integrated. Her trained eye had spotted the tension leaving his muscles. Now Sinklar leaned forward, determined to make a point. “I don’t want another stifling Imperial system, Ily. Look what it did to me! I placed third. Third! In the interplanetary exams! And I got drafted!”

  She rolled to one side, fingering her drinking bulb. “You placed first,” she told him. “The two ahead of you were political winners. Their scores were fixed.”

  Sinklar’s odd-colored eyes hardened. “I placed first?”

  Ily gave him a, warm smile. “First. I haven’t just been executing your rivals, you know. I did a lot of checking. And before you blame the Imperial system, you’d better consider that neither Tybalt, myself, or anyone else in Regan politics got you drafted. I can’t prove it yet, but I think you can blame the Seddi.

  “The Seddi!” And vulnerability grew in his eyes. He looked like the young boy he was. Ily slid a little closer.

  “You’re right, of course,” Ily told him- gently. “We’ll fix the system. Make the exams fair. I don’t think we can afford to lose talent.”

  He nodded, taking another drink of the potent Ashtan brew.

  “You know, we don’t have to be adversaries.”

  Careful, Ily. Just work a small lever into him to begin with.

  “You used Arta Fera to kill Tybalt, didn’t you?” She employed her weary smile. “How many people did you personally kill on Targa, Sinklar? Five? Ten? Or can you raise the count when you figure the number who died outside Vespa because you were brilliant enough to mine a ridge and maneuver the rebels into the trap? Don’t look at me like that, I’m not changing the subject.

  “Yes, I used Arta Fera to kill Tybalt. You and 1, we’re in the same business. We both want to effect change. I’m not quite as optimistic as you are. And since we’re being honest with each other, I’ll admit I’m power-hungry and ruthless about it-just as you’re every bit as ruthless on the battlefield.”

  He stared into his drink. “How long do I have until the Sassans strike?”

  “Three months at a bare minimum. More likely, three and a half to four. They’re straining to mount an attack force. The first strike will be limited. They’re thinking about keeping us off balance.”

  “And you really don’t know which planet they’ll target?”

  Ily shook her head. “Not yet. It won’t be Rega, but an outlying world. Ashtan maybe, or perhaps Sylene. My people will discover which target before they space. We’ll have time.”

  Sinklar steepled his fingers, staring at nothingness. “I need to know the date they space. More than anything else, Ily. I must have that.”

  She’d worked her way to within centimeters of him, watching the droop in his shoulders, aware of the weary preoccupation that absorbed him. “You amaze me. You’ve already figured out how to stop them, haven’t you?”

  He shrugged. “Always on the edge. It’s a Rotted way to live. Nothing seems to change. I always have to do the impossible.”

  Listen to the loneliness in his voice. Perfect. “You’re not alone anymore, Sinklar.” She poured more malt liquor into his bulb, adding to hers. “We’ll do this together. Talking tonight, I’ve come to understand the sort of government you want. I can live with that.”

  He didn’t focus very well when he looked skeptically at her.

  She stared up at him, eyes wide and vulnerable, her body in a supplicant posture. “You want more enfranchisement for the common people. I want the aristocracy weakened and their ability to threaten me dispersed. As to the people, I don’t care what they possess or control, so long as I don’t have the Rotted Rath family snapping at my heels.”

  He frowned, and she parted her lips, aware of how his eyes raked her trim body. “Why? You’re from the aristocracy, aren’t you?”

  Ily laughed, flipping her thick hair over her shoulder teasingly. “A
ristocracy? Me? Good heavens, no. My father worked in a trona plant processing soda ash. I was bright, talented, and motivated. The most powerful man in our community was the constable. I worked for him for two years. He had a bad heart that killed him in the end. I might have married him but for that. Nevertheless, his recommendation got me a training scholarship in law enforcement here on Rega. I graduated at the top of, my class and one thing led to another.“

  “And your mother?”

  Good, I’ve elicited sympathy. Can I build on that? “Never knew her. She died when I was about three.” “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” Now I set the hook. “Everyone I ever loved is dead.” She paused, gaze going vacant. “Once I worried quite a bit about death, about loss. One tragedy followed another. I’d barely recover from one thing, and life would slap me with another. I was a real wreck in those days. Lost, hurting....

  She saw his eyes narrow, watched the tightness around his mouth. His hands tensed as he dropped his eyes, engrossed in his own memories of hurt.

  Now. She reached out, taking his hand in hers, staring into his eyes. “It’s all right, Sinklar. I got over the ache long ago. It made me tough, strengthened me into who I am.” She’d shifted again, aware of his longing gaze. He might be brilliant and keen-witted, but he was also a very young man-and his lover was six months dead and gone. The Ashtan ale had worked on him, lowering his inhibitions. The music with its sexual subliminals had soothed him. She could see his breathing increase, measure the warm flush at his neck. The battle he raged with his desire and the memory of his Gretta delighted her.

  “I had help here and there, too,” she added, adopting a gentle tone. “I remember once when I thought I didn’t have a friend in the world. I met someone then. He,” she smiled wistfully, “well, he reached out. We spent a lot of. . . .” She tightened her grip on his hand. “Maybe I’d better not talk about that.”

  “A lover?”

  “Yes. A kind one. For a little while, the loneliness vanished and we had each other. Ah, Sinklar, if I had it to do all over again, I’d play the game differently. To reach out in the night and touch another human being who cares for you, to know that you’re not alone, not adrift in life, that is true security. Such occasions are all too rare.” She paused just long enough, then added, “If I could only live it over again. “

  His fingers were moving on her hand now, stroking. He seemed to come to his senses, suddenly releasing her. “I guess I should be getting back to the LC. Mhitshul will be worried sick.”

  “I ... sure.” She gave him a shy smile, lowering her eyes. “Um, I guess that might be wisest all the way around. I feel. . . .” She took a deep breath, rolling over and swelling her chest as she stretched sensually. His eyes devoured her. “I feel very comfortable with you. Comfortable in a way I haven’t felt in years.” She rolled back, closer, resting her chin in her palms. “Thank you.”

  He’d caught up the end of her long hair to rub between his fingers. “For what? Listening?”

  She ran. the tips of her fingers down the back of his hand, seeing the reaction it elicited. He squirmed the way a man did when he had an erection-and no place to put it.

  “I suppose you’ll be spending most of the time with your troops,” she whispered sadly.

  “Yes.” He laced his fingers in hers, closing his eyes, battling with himself, with the pumping testosterone of youth.

  She snuggled next to him, letting the curve of her hip barely nudge his. “Working with you might not be so bad, Sinklar Fist.” Another couple of nights with you, and I’ll have you right where I want you.

  He swallowed hard then, trying to roll away. “I thought we’d have a fight. I didn’t expect. . . . “

  “To like me?” She arched an eyebrow and ran her fingers along the side of his head. He leaned forward, and she met his lips.

  She could feel the throbbing tension as she ran her fingers along his body. His hands caressed her with a curious tenderness.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked, pushing back as she made an effort to catch her breath. “No,” he croaked.

  She shook herself, climbing gracefully to her feet. “I don’t think I’m ready for sex with you yet.”

  He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I don’t know what happened. “

  She laughed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I do. It’s called lust. You’re young, healthy, intelligent, and you’ve had quite a bit of Ashtan ale. I will admit, it’s a temptation to drag you off to my sleeping platform and turn you every way but loose, but I don’t think you’d ever believe I didn’t slip something into your drink. You’d be suspicious of me forever.”

  He nodded, the trust she’d hoped to foster mixing with the desire. He stood, nervously rubbing his hands together. “You’re right.”

  “Sinklar, I know how I’m perceived in the empire. I encourage that image of a ruthless, cold-blooded Cytean bitch. That very perception is a weapon in my hands. It gives me a psychological advantage against my enemies. The power of my reputation alone, when wielded appropriately, often serves to disable conspiracies without my resorting to other means. Internal security is my job-and I take it very seriously. In my own way, I, too, am working for the people. But there are two sides to my personality, one political, the other, well ... I don’t show that to many men. Only the ones I trust. “

  “And you trust me?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet ... not completely. But perhaps with time I can drop the pretenses. I only ask that you give me a fair chance, as I am giving you. Look at me through eyes unbiased by what you’ve heard. I think you’ll find we’re both fighting for the same thing. Only our methods differ.”

  “I still don’t know what came over me tonight.” He smiled bashfully.

  “I do. And perhaps, if we can come to see each other as allies, we’ll do something about it. For now, you’re weaving on your feet. We’ll talk in the morning,” she told him, taking his arm and leading him to the lift.

  When he’d gone, she closed the doors and walked to her bedroom. “Plan your war, Sinklar. Establish your new order. You see, my dear, the person who wins is the one who ends up with the reins of controlno matter how she gets them. And I have an arsenal at hand that you can’t even conceive of.”

  “What can we say about the nature of God? Currently humanity embraces two very different paradigms. One, the Etarian, has developed a system of mythical beliefs based on the duality of good and evil. The Blessed Gods fought on the side of good against the Rotted Gods, and managed to establish the Forbidden Borders to keep humanity safe from the evil ones. The question is begged, however, that if we are in the province of the Blessed Gods-the givers of goodness and pleasure-why does the scourge of war, oppression, misery, slavery, and disease so plague humanity? What foundation, outside of assumption, exists to prove the existence of such Gods beyond that of metaphor?

  “The second paradigm embraced is that of deification Of a human being: the Sassan system. The Sassans accept that their emperor is endowed with perfect infallibility. Yet do we see him alleviating the suffering of his people? Do we see him making decisions free from the taint of error? Outside of a dogma instilled in the people through manipulation of the media, and enforcement at the point of a blaster, where does Divine Sassa’s proclaimed divinity lie?

  “Both paradigms insist they are true. Yet, if one side or the other manifests ultimate Truth, why is the heresy of the other allowed to persist? Is it not logical to believe that one power would overcome the other? After all, we are talking about Gods here-ultimate power and ultimate Truth.

  “Let us return to the lecture on epistemology. If we are talking about ultimate Truth, which is the wrong epistemology? Would the true nature of God be riddled with inconsistency and contradiction? Isn’t it more acceptable to the rational mind that both epistemologies are wrong?

  “After centuries of debate, the Seddi believe the answers to the nature of God lie elsewhere.

  Excerpt
from Kaylla Dawn’s Itreatic broadcasts

  CHAPTER 8

  Tyklat, Director of Internal Security for the planet Etaria, stepped off the shuttle and started down the lighted tunnel that led to Imperial Regan Customs. At the gate, Tyklat flashed his ID at the armed soldiers who guarded the entryway. These were no bored officials, but combat veterans in armor. So the rumors of rioting must have been correct.

  To his surprise, the soldiers barred the way, one with his hand held out for Tyklat’s ID. He passed it over, waiting while the soldier checked the documentation and inspected him carefully, matching holo and description.

  Tyklat stood one point six two meters tall. He had ebony skin well suited to his desert world. Intelligent eyes dominated a straight broad nose. For travel, he wore a tan suit of conservative cut and carried only a valise.

  When Ily’s transfer order first arrived, he’d been a bit nervous, but then when a follow-up communication explained that he was to be promoted to a regional Directorship, his fear had ebbed. No, she didn’t blame him for the Etarian debacle. And besides, if she ever did, she could do her damnedest to pry his secrets out of his corpse .

  Tyklat couldn’t help but check the back of his mouth where the deadly Seddi tooth waited to be used.

  The soldier nodded and handed the ID back, muttering, “Enjoy your stay.”

  Tyklat stepped through the security tunnel that checked him for banned substances, weapons, and other illegal possessions, and walked out into the reception area. Tactite windows ran from floor to ceiling and cast slanting light across rows of duraplast benches situated to allow passengers to look out over the shuttle field. A score of people loitered in the area. The floor had been scuffed and needed a thorough cleaning.

  He saw the woman before she saw him. What man wouldn’t notice a gorgeous creature like her? Auburn hair framed a classic face. The bulky clothing she wore barely concealed a body that was too good to be real. Men from all over the terminal were ogling.