Relic of Empire

by W. Michael Gear

  She’d cried out when they pulled her legs apart and stripped her naked amidst a tearing of fabric. Despite the man who dropped on her and thrust dryly inside, her hypnotized stare remained on her family. As the first man took her savagely the shrill whine of a pulse rifle rose and went silent as her husband’s head exploded in a tissue-streaked pink puff. Then, one by one, they blew her children apart before her eyes.

  After the last shrilling shot, she had nothing left but repeated rape.

  Yes, she drank the Lord Commander’s stassa-just as they all now depended upon him for survival. Kaylla took a deep breath and forced a swallow down her choked throat.

  “Magister Dawn?” the comm called. “It’s Nyklos to see you. “

  Kaylla lifted her head and composed herself. “Enter.” The heavy hatch slipped back and Nyklos strode briskly in, a grim look on his handsome face. He wore a golden silk robe belted at the waist. His flaring mustache gave his prominently boned face a dashing look. He wore his brown hair short. Tension filled his dark eyes.

  At the sight of her strained expression, he asked, “I take it you’ve heard already?”

  “Heard what?”

  Nyklos tapped the heel of his fist against his palm. “Tyklat’s in trouble. Ily’s onto him. I’ve already tried to contact our people on Etaria. None of them respond. We can assume she’s captured the entire Etarian network.

  A constriction in Kaylla’s chest made breathing difficult. “No, I hadn’t heard. I’ve been juggling schedules since we gave Staffa a couple of engineers for his ‘Countermeasures’ project.” She walked over to the comm monitor and stared glumly at the lines of text. A different Staffa kar Therma had saved her from Ily’s poison wrath. That Staffa had repeatedly risked his life for her saving her time and again from death and abuse. He’d gambled himself for her sake.

  The dance of the quanta, God’s joke on all of us. And now Tyklat had been compromised? “Did he give you any indication of his status?”

  “No.” Nyklos sounded reserved. “The message simply stated: ‘Nyklos, Ily knows. Warn my people immediately. If I survive, I’ll be in touch. Tyklat.’

  “How did that come in?”

  “Wide broadcast. The sort of thing Tyklat would have done if he’d been on the run-separated from his equipment.”

  “If he’s caught ... how much damage can he do?” Kaylla asked.

  Nyklos gave her a speculative look. “I think we can contain it. Most of what he was familiar with were Magister Bruen’s operations. So much has changed. If it had to happen, now was a good time.”

  Kaylla crossed her arms, pacing as she tried to think. “We can only assume the worst-that she’ll get him, and he’ll kill himself.”

  “That’s not the worst.”

  Kaylla raised a questioning eyebrow.

  Nyklos gave her a hard stare. “When Skyla Lyma caught me that night in Etarus, my trick tooth didn’t kill me. I know that we checked after that, corrected the problem. But keep this in mind. Ily has captured Seddi agents before. If she suspected Tyklat, and he’s gone to ground, she’ll do everything she can to get him alive. “

  “You’ve worked in Rega before. What do you think his chances of getting out are?”

  Nyklos shrugged. “Were Tybalt still alive ... one in ten. With the whole planet fermenting and on the verge of coming apart, I’d say he has even odds. Fiftyfifty.

  Anatolia Daviura snapped awake at the sound of voices in the hallway. She rolled to a sitting position on the couch in the women’s restroom. The lights, detecting movement, flooded the lavatory, shining brilliantly on the white tiles, sialon fixtures, and mirrors. The soft hum of the air-conditioning reassured her after the horrible fragments of dreams that had plagued her sleep.

  The muted voices in the hall receded.

  Anatolia glanced up at the comm: 07:49. Time for her to blink the sleep out

  of her eyes and clean up before she put in another day at the lab. She got to her feet, stretched, and bent over one of the sinks to wash. She’d scrubbed her clothing the night before, drying it in the force fields before redonning it.

  The cool water restored freshness to her skin. She rinsed her hair, twisting it into a knot and wringing out the excess before she stuck her head into the field, pressed the button, and drew back. The gentle fields squeezed the moisture away in a muscular trickle.

  She studied her face in the mirror, curious at the hardness in her blue eyes. Is that really me? Freshly clean, her golden hair frizzed out, accenting the hollows in her cheeks and the slight puffiness under her eyes. Her full lips had a pinched look.

  “Not exactly where you thought you’d be on your twenty-fourth birthday, is it?” She gave herself a brittle smile. “I guess living in bathrooms, working eighteen hours a day, and being haunted by nightmares isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. “

  She walked over to the couch and straightened the wrinkles. She grabbed up her small bag of personal items and headed for the door, stopping on impulse to stare at her image one last time.

  “I guess, Ana, that you’re not Daddy’s little china doll anymore, are you?”

  Her dream had gone dead in the darkness and fear during her scramble to stay alive in the bilge of the capital. A man had groped the breasts that now stretched the fabric of her turquoise blouse. And the slim hands that clutched her bag had run sickly scarlet with his blood. The myth of comfort and security had shattered-never to be put whole again.

  As the door to the hallway opened and two secretaries entered, Anatolia smiled and called a cheery good morning. In the hall, she turned toward the laboratory, walking with purposeful steps. She could grab a snack before she began her four hours of scut work for Professor Adam, then after six hours of classes and practical on the use of polymerase In she’d be able to scarf down dinner. After that, file 7355 waited to obsess her until her body caved in to the demand for sleep.

  She allowed nothing else to penetrate her concentration. Her hand slapped gently on the lock plate for the anatomical laboratory and the door whispered open. Inside, several of her fellow students had already gathered at the dispenser.

  Anatolia made polite small talk as she selected a soup, black rye, and a hot cup of klav. She slipped her credit chip into the slot and seconds later the food slid out on the tray beneath the machine.

  As she sat down at her desk, Vet slid in beside her. “You haven’t been home, have you?” He gazed at her quizzically.

  “That’s silly, of course I have. I just keep longer hours than-“

  “Stop it, Anatolia. Bokken’s been keeping a sharp eye on everyone going in and out of this place. I called here after I got no answer at your place. Security says you never checked out last night.”

  “I had a lot to do. Maybe you forget, but I lost a lot of study time during the recent trouble.”

  “And this special computer time you’re burning up?”

  She forced a neutral smile onto her lips. “You don’t get to full professor in this business unless you prove you can do solid research. Speaking of which, you’d better get to work and start looking for-“

  “Attention!” the comm interrupted. All eyes turned toward the large room monitor beside the dispenser. The screen lit in blue, the Imperial Regan jessant-delis crest flashing brightly in the center. One of the government spokesmen from the Ministry of Defense appeared, a sober look on his face.

  “Citizens of the Empire, the current military governor will address you in a few moments. As you know, martial law has been imposed upon the Empire, and order restored after the rebellious Seddi fringe elements failed in their attempt to incite revolt and overthrow the government. I now turn you over to the military governor. “

  A silence filled the room as Anatolia and Vet rose to join the others.

  The holo flashed again and a young man stared thoughtfully out at them. Anatolia gazed into those gray and yellow eyes in shocked disbelief. She remembered the black thatch of hair, the knobby nose and long jaw. He looked older
now, worn and weary, as if he, too, bore a terrible burden of memory.

  “Gentle men and women, fellow citizens, good morning. I had hoped to address you before this in order to introduce myself and inform you as to the condition of the Empire. I regret that events and circumstances have denied me the opportunity. I am Lord Sinklar Fist,” a pause, “the new Commander of the Imperial Regan military forces. Elements of the Targan Assault Divisions, under my command, have restored order and security to the captial. Please, return to your Inormal activities and pursuits. The Civil Security now serves as our information network. In the event of trouble, place a call to your nearest Civil Security Center and a military team will be dispatched to help you. “

  “Who’s he?” Professor Adam wondered from where he’d arrived to stand in the rear of the group. “Doesn’t look anything like a Tybalt the Imperial

  Eighth,” someone jested. “Not with those eyes.” “Hush,” Vet called, waving for silence.

  Lord Fist continued, “I fear, however, that our problems are not ended. The military will continue to maintain order while the new government is formed and slowly begins to take over its responsibilities. We expect a rapid and smooth transition of power.” His eyes gleamed with passion. “No subversion of the military authority will be tolerated. As of this moment, rank, privilege, and status are no longer the currency of office. We are here to serve the needs of the people ... all of them!”

  “Rotted Gods,” Vet mumbled. “How’s the aristocracy going to take that?”

  Fist tilted his head, a slight frown lining his brow. “There is no easy way to say what I now have to.” “Here it comes,” Race called caustically.

  With an imploring expression, Fist said, “We have received intelligence which confirms that the Sassan Empire has commenced a military buildup in response to that initiated by the late Emperor. Further, they see the assassination of Imperial Tybalt as a signal that Rega lies defenseless and ill prepared to resist a Sassan invasion. We know they are preparing to launch just such an invasion within the next six months. “

  This time the room remained silent.

  Fist reached out toward them with an open hand. “No matter what, we’re all in this together. Those of us with the responsibility for the security of the Empire, will do all we can to protect it. I can’t lie to you. There will be disruptions, inconveniences, and all the problems inherent in meeting such a threat to our homes and families. Some of you will be called up for military service. Others will find themselves reassigned to different jobs for the duration of the emergency. And, yes, occasionally we’ll all be faced with shortages of various articles we now take for granted. If you get irritated by the whole thing, blame the Sassans. “

  “Who’s he trying to kid?” Green Hanson asked nervously.

  “Be assured that as events unfold, I will be keeping you informed. I want each and every one of you to realize that we’ve reached one of the most serious crises the Empire has ever faced. We have the ability to build a bright new future, and we must keep our eyes on that goal. In the short term, we may face rough moments, but perhaps the time has come for a new order. In the coming days, I want each and every one of you to dream about the kind of future you’d like to see. Dream, my friends ... and let’s try and make them all come true.” -

  The holo flashed the jessant-de-lis on its blue background again.

  “How quaint!” Professor Adam smirked. “Dream, he says. What a delightful defense against the Sassans!”

  The group broke up into somber conversations. Anatolia barely felt Vet’s hand on her shoulder. “Hey, Ana, you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. “

  “Fine,” she whispered, and turned away. Heedless of Vet’s questioning stare, she walked back to her desk and pulled out the slides Adam wanted her to catalog. As the volume of the talk rose behind her, she reached a key out of her desk and carefully locked the drawer that held the printouts of her 7355 file.

  “How’d I do?” Sinklar asked as he pushed back in the squeaky chair in the LC command center.

  Mhitshul gave him a broad smile. “Wonderfully, sir. If you could have addressed the Targan rebels like that, the war would have been over before it started.”

  Sinklar gave his aide a skeptical look. “Uh-huh. You didn’t used to be so full of crap. “

  “Yes, sir, but I guess things have been so frantic I’ll take any opportunity to balance the bad with the good. “

  Sinklar reached up and slapped him reassuringly on the armor. In the meantime, his comm had begun to light up with messages.

  Sinklar accessed the call he knew to be Mac’s. His blond-haired second stared out from Gyton’s bridge and gave him a cavalier smile, a twinkle in those blue eyes. “Nice speech, Sink. After that, I’d say you were a shoe in for a Ministerial post.”

  “How are things?”

  “We’re spacing. Rysta and I have made a truce. We both know the score ... and we’re going to make sure the noisemakers on Terguz understand it, too. We haven’t quite solved our little problem yet.” Mac spread his hands wide. “Guess we’ll worry about one thing at a time. “

  Sinklar nodded uneasily. “Mac, 1.

  MacRuder’s smile warmed. “I know, Sink. You’re starting to suffer from too much guilt these days. If you’d done that back at the pass when the Second Section deployed, we’d all be dead now and Ily would have the whole thing. Cut it out and go to work. We’ve all got a job to do. “

  Sinklar took a deep breath. “We do, don’t we?” “You remember that talk we had just before the assault on Makarta? I warned you about Ily. I want you to think about that. Talk to Mayz, if you need to. She’s canny.”

  ri “Gretta told me to promote her. Gretta was always ght, you know.”

  Mac watched him soberly. “By the time we get back, I hope to see you in different quarters. Go rent an apartment while we’re gone.”

  “First thing.” Sinklar chuckled. “By the way, with all the top brass killed off, I wonder who pays us. “ “Scratch that. Find an apartment second thing. First

  thing, find out who pays us. If it’s Ily, screw her. We’ll just keep comm and the Imperial bank and give ourselves all the bogus credit we need.”

  “Anything else, Mac?”

  MacRuder gave him a warm look and shook his head. “No. Just remember, we’re all counting on you. Whatever you have to do, well, we’re all soldiers, Sink. Do what you have to.”

  “You, too, Mac. Good spacing ... and the Blessed Gods keep you.”

  “See you,soon.” Then MacRuder cut the connection. Sinklar chewed his lip and stared pensively at the COMM.

  “He’s not just going to Terguz, is he?” Mhitshul asked softly.

  “No. But I guess it’s all right now. Well, maybe I can sleep better at night. On that note, we’d best get to work. “

  “Beg your pardon? What else do you call these twenty-hour days?”

  Sinklar gave him a hard grin. “Fooling around, Mhitshul, what else.”

  “Yes, sir. Uh, sir, just where are we going to find a place to stay? Mac’s right. You can’t just run an empire out of an LC. “

  Sinklar scratched his ear and frowned. “You know, for the first time in my life, I don’t have the slightest idea.

  Ily Takka pressed the button that released the transparent hood on the aircar and stepped out on the gritty roof of the Power Authority. She nodded to her driver, and waved as her car rose into the morning sky and sailed off in the direction of her headquarters.

  Ily took a deep breath and studied the grubby LC that sat perched on the rooftop. Around her, the skyline of the capital stretched in every direction, looking oddly clean after last night’s rain. The pink light of dawn had just begun to firm into a harder yellow as the sun’s rays slanted across the city.

  Ily walked to the rear of the LC and punched the control that lowered the access ramp. Nothing happened. With growing anger, she tried it again, and finally ripped open the manual override box and studied the contents
. At that moment, the ramp dropped with a thud that spattered her with puddled rainwater.

  “Oh, it’s you,” Mhitshul called with barely controlled civility.

  “Yes, indeed, it is me.” Ily gave the man the look she reserved for the condemned and strode purposefully up the ramp. “Where’s Lord Fist?”

  Mhitshul stiffened as she entered and stabbed the control that closed the heavy door. For long moments they eyed each other with a crackling malignance.

  “The First is asleep, Minister,” Mhitshul told her in precise tones.

  “Then he Rotted well better get up.”

  “This is the first real rest he’s had in.... Hey, you can’t go back there!”

  “I suppose you’re the one who’s failed to answer my calls?”

  “I said he was asleep!”

  Ily spun on her heel, poking a hard finger into Mhitshul’s breast as she glared into his indignant eyes. “Maybe we had better straighten something out here and now. We’re running an-entire empire. If I need to talk to Sinklar, I Rotted well will.” Ily lowered her voice to a deadly hiss. “And you’ll stay out of my way, you little maggot!”

  With that she stormed down the aisle that ran between the assault ‘benches and ducked through the hatch into the cramped command center.

  Sinklar lay curled on the hard bench, knees drawn up, one arm outstretched in what had to be a cursedly uncomfortable position.

  “By all that’s Blessed, what’s going on here?” She turned to fix a flushing Mhitshul with a hot glare. “No wonder he falls asleep! How do you expect him to get any rest in this rat hole?”

  “Well, there wasn’t....

  “Rotted Gods,” Sinklar growled, pulling himself upright. “What is it? What’s wrong now?” He blinked redly at Ily as he shook the arm he’d been sleeping on.

  Ily reached for the dispenser and punched the button for a cup of stassa. Sinklar watched her worriedly as he took the cup.

  “I’ve been trying to get hold of you for two hours now.” She shot a hard glance at Mhitshul. “Had it been an emergency, the Sassans could have burned us all to plasma in the interim. Fortunately, my people noticed your LC up here.”