Relic of Empire

by W. Michael Gear

  “We’re outsystem and accelerating,” she told him. “Looks like free spacing all the way home. Null singularity in twenty-five hours.”

  Staffa made a muffled grunt.

  Skyla stopped behind him, massaging his shoulders as she looked over his work. Strings of statistical formulae filled the monitor Staffa studied. More numbers appeared at the bottom as the computer-generated model provided a conclusion. Staffa growled to himself. “Looks fascinating, what is it?”

  “Statistical combat factors,” Staffa explained, sighing and leaning back into her arms. “I’m trying to decide whether it’s a better idea to warn Sinklar of the Sassan strike, or try and deal with it ourselves.”

  “Do you have any preference one way or the other?”

  He patted her hand and looked up at her. “Not yet. The data are too sketchy concerning Sinklar’s ability to organize and field a fleet against Jakre’s attack.”

  Skyla lifted a pale eyebrow. “Assuming you know which commanders Sinklar will have-and which target Jakre will hit.”

  “Myles will tell me.”

  “Really?”

  “You don’t like him, do you?”

  “He’s a drooling fat Sassan.”

  Staffa frowned as he leaned back and doodled with a laser pen. He couldn’t keep his gaze from the holographic map. “When he agreed to slip us the information, I believed him. He’s only started on the analysis of the Seddi data, but he’s convinced of the danger. Call it a gut feeling, if you like, but I think he’s willing to take the risks involved. He doesn’t want to see his homeland wasted any more than we do.”

  “I’m supposed to trust your gut?”

  Staffa reached up to draw her lips within range of his. He kissed her soundly and said, “I survived the Praetor’s mental booby trap, remember? Myles is becoming a human being. The responsibility is getting to him. He’s beginning to understand what the stakes are, and he doesn’t want to see his people, his charges, dying by the millions.” He paused, gaze going back to the holo map. “But I think there’s more there, too. I think Myles really wants to make a difference. Despite our cynical age, there are people like that. “

  She ran her hands over his muscular chest, enjoying the feel of his warmth. “All right, we can disagree over Roma. Just promise me you’ll keep a close eye on him. “

  “I will ... and so, no doubt, will you.

  “Bet on it,” she told him wryly. “I’m going to sleep. How about you? You’ve been at this for ten hours, ever since you pushed Roma out the hatch and sent him back to Sassa. Are you going to sit here for another ten while you manipulate insufficient data? Or could I interest you in some close quarters drill?”

  He smiled, tearing his attention from the holo to stare into her blue eyes. “Nothing on the scanners? No possible emergencies?”

  She shook her head, grabbing the tip of her long braid and tickling his face with it.

  With amazing agility for so large a man, he catapulted out of the chair, trying to catch her. Skyla skipped lithely sideways, vaulted the desk, and dove through the door to the sleeping quarters. She turned, legs braced, and grappled as he charged in after her. For several seconds they struggled, each trying to throw the other, until Staffa simply lifted her off the ground and she lost her leverage.

  A laughing Skyla wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him close. “Guess you win.”

  “As long as I have you. “

  For long moments gray and blue. stares mingled. She bent forward, kissing him again, savoring the sensation of security and love. As he lowered her, his fingers undid the catches that secured her pliable white armor. She helped him, peeling the suit off her long legs.

  Staffa traced gentle fingers down the long scar that ran the length of her muscular thigh. “Scared me to death the time you did that. Funny, I was frantic and couldn’t figure out why.”

  “Like that time a shot cracked my helmet and you almost lost the battle because you were waiting around the hospital?” She undid her braid, fluffing her iceblonde hair around her as he stared at her fullbreasted body with open admiration. Her quick fingers unfastened his gray suit. She let her hands play lightly over his muscular chest and elicited a shiver from him as she drew one of his nipples into her mouth and teased it.

  “I’ve missed you,” she whispered as he kicked his clothing into the corner and pulled her close.

  “It’s only been a couple of days,” he answered as he cupped her breasts and searched her eyes. “It just feels like forever.”

  She led him to the sleeping platform and shoved him onto the bedding before diving after him. In their spirited foreplay, Staffa rolled her over until her long hair wound around them like a gleaming veil.

  She shivered as the passion built and she drew him to her, opening herself, locking her legs on the small of his back as he filled her. She tightened her grip, heart pounding, wishing she could press him inside forever.

  Staffa, Staffa, how could 1 ever live without you. In the honeyed afterglow of lovemaking, she lay cradled in his arms, her head on his muscular chest. She ran an index finger along the faint pucker of an old scar that arced across his pectoral. “If we do alert Sinklar, will he be able to take Jakre? We know he’s brilliant on the ground, but a space engagement is something else. One minute you’re in formation and closing, the next you’re in the thick of ships-bursts of energy and dazzling flashes of light all winding into tight chaos. The next thing you know, space is empty: only wreckage and silence are left.”

  “I think he’ll learn faster than we’d like.”

  Skyla gave a hoarse chuckle. “He’s made of good stock.” A pause. “Why are you leaning toward letting him handle Jakre? Pride? Curiosity? Something personal, Staffa?”

  He twirled her pale hair around a tanned finger, eyes pensive. “Perhaps. It would make things easierand harder at the same time.”

  “Does Myles know that we might have to kill his fleet before it can reach Regan space?”

  Staffa nodded. “We talked about that. It hurts him. We both pretty much agreed that if it comes to shooting, it will be as a last resort. In the meantime, Myles will covertly short-circuit the logistics for the redeployment. A missed shipment here, a redirected freighter there. As stretched as their resources are, the effects will be profound. If enough goes wrong, perhaps His Holiness and Jakre will wake up to the fact that they might be closer to the edge than they think. We just have to make sure we find a way to keep Sassa from launching a strike.”

  “That’s the easy part.”

  He craned his neck to peer at her. “Easy? Sassa and Jakre want to start a war. “

  “You bet they’re easy. Sassa’s a pushover compared to Sinklar Fist. Considering the aftertaste the Seddi left in his mouth, how likely do you think it will be to talk him out of launching Rega against Sassa? No, we’ve got to have an angle here, something to make both sides back off and cool down.”

  “Like what?”

  Skyla balled a fist and absently thumped his ribs. “Well, boss, that’s the single little detail I haven’t worked out yet. But something will come to mind. It’s just a matter of recognizing it when it happens and seizing the initiative. You don’t want to use Countermeasures yet, do you?”

  “No. Assuming that Tap can get it to work. If we do, it means we’ve been pushed to the last resort.” They lay quiet, each lost in thought. -

  “Did you get Myles to allow Seddi access to Sassa?” “He’ll provide what cover he can. Official papers, travel permits, and so forth. Actually, he came up with a pretty good idea all on his own. He suggested that we do a subspace broadcast out of Itreata. Kaylla could outline the Seddi doctrine, their goals, and how the unilateral epistemology needs to be recognized for what it is. Like Myles said, ‘What could Divine Sassa do?”

  She pursed her lips. “Myles just said sure, send in the Seddi? What about his God?”

  Staffa laughed. “What makes you think Myles thinks Sassa’s really a god? I showed him the old r
ecords that date back to the time of His Holiness’ grandfather and the Ryklos charade. I showed Myles a great deal and he wasn’t exactly a pious man to start with.”

  “Is he still slobbering at the mention of my name?” Staffa smiled. “No. I told him you’d overheard his braggadocio that time in Itreata. You’ll notice he tactfully avoided you every chance he got after that.”

  She shrugged, forcing the fat Sassan out of her mind. “Tell me more about these transmissions we’re going to fill the subspace net with. You planning on broadcasting to Rega, too?”

  “Why not? From our location, and given our dishes, we ought to be able to talk to all of Free Space.” “Ily’s going to come unglued. Which reminds me.

  While you were talking to Roma, we got a report from Itreata. Sinklar has taken Rega, restored order, and met with Ily. As of the moment we spaced, nothing else had come in.” She resettled herself. “That’s going to create another jagged angle in this affair. No matter what sort of agreement you might be able to cobble together with Sinklar, Ily’s going to do everything she can to sour it. “

  Staffa pursed his lips thoughtfully. “To think I could have killed her that day you shot up the Security Directorate on Etaria. All it would have taken would have been one step over and a perfectly placed kick.”

  “What about Sinklar? He’s in her grip, under her influence. He’s awfully young, Staffa. He might be a wonderful field commander, but is he up to her sort of malignant shrewdness? She’s cunning and incredibly adept at manipulating people. Of all the enemies we face, she’s the worst.”

  Staffa nodded. “That woman has venom in her veins. And whatever happens, one way or another, she’s going to make us pay before this is all over.

  Sinklar entered the briefing room in the Defense Ministry, with MacRuder, Ayms, and Kap following behind. Overhead light panels bathed the entire room in soft white light. For this meeting, the holo-capable walls were opaque. Roughly half of the one hundred desks arranged in concentric arcs around the podium were occupied by Squadron Commanders and Division Firsts. The babble of conversation stopped as Sinklar strode purposefully across the polished tile floor and mounted the podium.

  He took a breath to still his thumping heart and scanned the room. Hostile faces stared back, and the air carried a festering resentment. Around the walls, A Group from Mayz’ Seventh Section stood at parade rest, weapons grounded, eyes on the assembled Regan officers.

  Sinklar’s staff lined out behind him, backs to the large holo tank where operations were projected during briefings.

  Sinklar stood straight, meeting the stares of the Regans. The only face he recognized was Rysta Braktov’s, who sat in the very last row. “Ladies and gentlemen, good afternoon. I wanted you here to discuss the new state of affairs we face. The old order is gone, swept away with the Imperial Seventh’s assassination by the Seddi agent, Arta Fera. We now face the task of creating a new Empire. One which most of you have already condemned.

  “I’m not here to argue the merits of a political system. Whether you abhor the idea or not, we’re faced with a new and different future. I’m not here to become a tyrant. I’m here to save the Empire.”

  The room remained silent, but bristling glances were cast at Sinklar’s armed soldiers.

  Sinklar cleared his throat. “In the coming months, the entire structure of the military is going to be restructured. Everything you have been taught about strategy and tactics has become obsolete. Necessity forced me to make innovations in both of those fields during the Targan campaign. We have always fought to win, but within a structured system that catered to outdated concepts of status and honor. “ His expression was grim. “People, despite the mythology, war is a vicious and nasty business. If I have done nothing else, I’ve destroyed the myth.”

  One of the Commanders stood, an elderly man with white hair and a hawkish face. “I am Leopold Vincent, Commander of Tybalt Squadron. Outside of the fact that half of us have been arrested by Minister Takka’s insidious minions, and you have us coerced for the moment by your guards, why should we cooperate with you?”

  Sinklar clasped his hands behind him. “Because whether or not you like what’s happened, I need you. The Empire needs you. Commander, none of you are ignorant of our situation. Right or wrong, the assassination of Tybalt, and the execution of the Minister of Defense and his Deputies has precipitated a crisis. As of this moment, Sassa is massing for a military strike against us. I have no doubt but that they see our present circumstance as a vulnerability to be immediately exploited. “

  “And what of the Companions?” Vincent asked. ‘We don’t know. We can only assume they will side with Sassa. They certainly will not side with us.”

  Expressions tightened as the Regan Commanders glanced uneasily back and forth.

  “I think you are beginning to understand. “ Sinklar rocked on his heels. “For over seventy years, the Companions have borne the brunt of the assault, no matter who they fought. As a consequence, the old order of command privilege could be countenanced. It was a luxury the Empire could perpetuate for the aristocracy since the Companions did the dirty work. The Regan military merely provided support and mopup after the enemy had been demoralized and weakened. Ladies and gentlemen, we have four months to train our forces to fight like the Companions do.”

  “But against Staffa?” a woman in the back called. “That’s suicide!”

  “ I’ve fought Staffa before,” Sinklar countered. And I would have beaten him, but for the timely rescue provided by the Wing Commander and her fleet. Staffa is not invincible. But each and every one of you must understand-we can’t defeat him based on obsolete strategy and tactics. Nor can we defeat the Sassans in that manner. Within months, we will be locked in a deadly battle for the control of Free Space.” Sinklar pounded the podium with a knotted fist. “I can only tell you that it will be bloody and terrible, as if the Rotted Gods had broken loose in Free Space!”

  A fit-looking woman with brown hair stood. “I am Dion Axel. First of the Nineteenth Regan Assault Division. My question, sir, is why should we entrust ourselves to you? I studied your tactics-at least what I could get my hands on about them. Yes, you took five Divisions on Targa, and that appears to have been admirably done, but I submit to you that loyalty isn’t blindly given. It must be won, and by results.”

  Mutters of assent rose from the audience.

  Sinklar nodded, smiling for the first time. “I agree, First Axel.” And then it hit him. “I will make a wager with you. With all of you. If my tactics do not prove superior in every way, I will resign overall command of the Regan forces to the officer of your choice.”

  Skeptical mutters broke out, a woman in the front row spitting, “With Ily’s tentacles wrapped in our guts, do you expect us to believe that?”

  Sinklar raised his hands. “I’ve given you my word. Ily does not command me, or my Divisions. Think, Rot you. This isn’t a matter for petty politics, backbiting, or political intrigue. Our citizens, men, women, and children by the billions, are facing holocaust. Each and every one of you has to take stock of the grave stakes we fight for. If we don’t win decisively, how many of your friends, relatives, and other innocent people will be annihilated? How many worlds of ours will be blasted and silent? And those who survive? Do you want your children, your legacy, to be Sassan or Regan?”

  Sinklar shook his head, reaching out to them. “I’m not that vain. I would trade every glory, every victory to bring the men and women I loved and cherished back to life. Events have placed me at your command. When I shipped for Targa as a private, I had no ambitious dreams of becoming Emperor. I am a scholar, but since this burden of our very existence has fallen to me, I will do my best.”

  Sinklar pinned Axel with his stare. “You’ve made a rational request. I will earn your loyalty and prove my tactics. At this critical moment, results matter more than pride. If I cannot deliver, I will resign. That is my commitment to you.”

  Axel stood again, turning to look at her
comrades. “Most of you know me. You know that I’ve been a student of tactics for some time. We know that the Sassan threat isn’t ephemeral, and Lord Fist is right about the gravity of the situation. I’ve studied his strategic and tactical innovations. They’re interesting, and innovative, but leadership goes beyond gaming ability.” She turned back to Sinklar. “And how are we going to determine your fitness?”

  Sinklar braced himself on the podium. “The training exercises will prove or disprove my ability. All I ask of you is the opportunity. If I lose even once you may vote in a new commanding officer. And, in fairness, if I win, and some of you cannot adapt, I reserve the right to replace you with officers I think fit.”

  A man shot to his feet. “And if I refuse? No one takes the Ninth Vermilion from me!”

  Sinklar waited out the chorus of shouts. “Then I will have you removed. People, this is still the military, and so long as I’m in charge it will be run that way. You will obey orders under the Command Codes until such time as I am proved unfit. That is my final word.”

  First Axel was on her feet again, waving down the hubbub. “I’ll take Lord Fist’s word.” She scanned the room, expression serious. “I’ve known most of you for years, and hopefully have earned your respect in that time. I also know the precarious position the Empire is in. I’ve watched in awe as the Companions broke defenses I thought impregnable. I’ve watched them crush planet after planet and marveled at their efficiency. My friends, my advice is that we worry about the Sassans first, and deal with the future when we know we’ll have one.”