Relic of Empire

by W. Michael Gear

  “I plan to do just that.” Sinklar leaned forward, his gaze boring into one after another of the officers. “Further, I expect your Divisions to be trained and field capable within four weeks which-“

  “Impossible!” cried First Lute of the Ninth Vermilion Assault Division. He reminded Sink of a bloated raven-the kind that guards corpses. Beside him DeGamba, of the Second Ashtan, nodded in agreement.

  Sinklar waited until the hubbub died down and replied succinctly, “You will be field capable ... or someone else will be in charge of your Divisions.”

  DeGamba shot to his feet, a thin man with pale skin and silky white hair. “I’ll accept no such thing! If you think that I’m about to put up with your foolery, boy, you’ve another thought coming! My family has served the Emperor for-“

  “Then you will be relieved of your command, escorted to the next transport, and sent home. I believe you currently have estates on Riparious? Perhaps you would serve the people better by tending your fields.”

  DeGamba grinned wickedly, a frigid look in his icy blue eyes. “And just how will you accomplish this? Have Ily’s agents try and arrest us?”

  Sinklar shook his head, eyes never leaving DeGarnba’s. “I can do it here and now. Today you got your taste of a Division which has been formed from what was left of the five Divisions Tybalt dropped on us at Targa. Within ten minutes, I can have the Second Targan here-veterans who’ve refined the tactics you just experienced. When they arrive, I promise you, they won’t come carrying training lasers.”

  “You’d precipitate civil war?” Axel asked, glancing around nervously.

  Sinklar clasped his hands behind him. “No. Even if your Divisions rose against me, my Targans would have the situation under control within hours, and all of you would be dead for violating the Command Code, executed for failure to obey a direct order from your commanding officer.

  “I made my bargain with you during our first meeting. I gave you my word, and took yours that I would get my chance. To date, I haven’t lost. I told you then that I would enforce the Command Code until I was proven wrong. I keep my word. This is a military, not a social club. Getting back to the point, within each of your Divisions are smart professionals, men and women who’ve made it to the rank of Sergeant First, or Corporal ... people who’ve risen as far as their station will allow. I’ll be bluntly honest. Most of those combat veterans are better equipped to command than you are. “

  “I will not sit here and be insulted by a wet-assed little imp!” Lute bellowed and got to his feet, stomping for the door.

  Sinklar pointed at Lute’s retreating back. “First Mayz, that man is in violation of orders, attend to him. “

  Mayz had stood through most of the meeting with arms crossed and an angry glower on her hard features. She straightened, coolly pulled her pistol, and shot Lute in the back of the head. The Riparian’s body thumped loosely onto the carpet as the pink puff of atomized blood, bone, and brain settled around him.

  Sinklar cataloged the ashen faces at the table before him as he leaned down and braced himself on stiff arms. “You are here because I can’t waste talent, and I’m willing to give you a chance. Within motiths, we’re going to war. Sassa is mounting an attack. I’m sure His Holiness sees Tybalt’s assassination as the perfect opportunity to strike us. People, this is deadly serious. A pompous ass like First Lute could kill his entire command through pride, arrogance, and stubbornness. Firsthand, I witnessed Mykroft do exactly that to his Second Targan. I won’t have that. The people under your command are your responsibility. See that you take care of them wisely.”

  A shrilling rose and fell as several LCs passed overhead and settled beyond the mansion.

  Sinklar considered the people before him, thoughts racing. Rotted Gods, the situation is worse than I thought. Sink, you’ve got to make them understand. But how? I don’t have Targa here to winnow......Ladies and gentlemen, this military will be field capable utilizing my tactics. We’re going to go to work, starting now. We’ll run this morning’s exercise again, and again, and again. As soon as we get it right, we’ll run the same operation against fresh Divisions as they arrive. If we have to run war games across the entire planet, we will. You might inform your families that you’ll be missing dinner tonight-and for some time in the future. Until you are given permission otherwise, you will billet on the ground with your troops.”

  “Ridiculous!” DeGamba cried. “Live with ... with those animals! “

  Sinklar ignored him. “These are your orders: Kap and Mayz will detail their Section and Group Firsts to your Divisions. Your Firsts will report to the Third and Fourth Targan Divisions. Exchanging command structure will be the quickest method to expose rank and file to our tactics. Division Second Horn, you will assume temporary command of the Ninth Vermilion. If you perform efficiently, you may retain the position. If not, you will be replaced by the most competent person within the ranks.”

  Sinklar paused as he noted their aghast expressions. “I suggest you take this very seriously. From what I’ve seen today, I don’t expect many of you to be in command by sunset tonight. Post your orders, and find your new commands. The operation begins at 13:00. Dismissed. “

  In shocked silence, they stood and glanced almost fearfully at Sink, then at his Firsts who glared back. As they filed silently out, each stepped wide around Lute’s bloody corpse.

  “Shik, keep an eye on them,” Sink jerked his head at the door. Shiksta nodded and left.

  Sinklar gave his Firsts a weary smile. “Any odds on who makes the grade?”

  Ayms rubbed his hands as if washing them. “They’d have been blaster fodder in minutes back on the pass in Targa. No takers, Sink.”

  Sinklar settled himself on the corner of the table. “Any questions about the changed schedule?” “We’re gonna be dragging ass,” Kap replied. “The troops are going to hate you.“

  “Won’t be the first time. Honestly, I thought the Regulars would be better. How did the Empire win any wars? These guys can’t be that incompetentthey’d have been demobilized. “

  Mayz gave him a level stare. “Maybe it’s because the Star Butcher is that good. He did most of the real fighting. Regan troops dropped for the mop-up after the defenses were broken. “

  “As of today,” Sinklar promised, “that’s changing. If you see anyone with talent, promote him on the spot. We’re all going to be dragging and bleary before this is over, so let’s prepare for the long haul. Go to work, people.

  Deep within Itreata, Staffa walked down the long corridor and studied the patterns in the rock. Mining lasers had cut the round bore, leaving a mirror polish on the stone which exposed the veins and folded strata of the ancient moon’s interior. Periodic light panels sent a gleam off the surface. Kaylla had wanted it this way. Here, she lived at a safe distance from the Companions, separated from them by nearly a kilometer of forbidding rock and accessible only through this tunnel which she monitored with her own security.

  Staffa had decided to walk, not only for the exercise, but to remember. Images jostled: Kaylla in tattered brown rags, muscles sliding under tanned skin as she leaned against the weight of the tow rope in the Etarian desert; the weary glint in her tan eyes as she fought for Makarta Mountain; tenderness and aching sorrow as she talked about her family-and their murder on Maika. She’d huddled against his side that time as they waited for death in a buried pipe in the Etarian desert. He recalled the defeat and despair that had possessed her after the slave, Brots, had raped and beaten her. And for that, I killed him. Just as I killed Anglo. A sourness twisted in his gut. He, himself, was the only one of Kaylla’s tormentors he hadn’t killed-and he’d tried that once, in a sialon shipping crate bound for Targa.

  “You are a coward.” Her glare had cut like flint, a sneer of disgust on her lips. “Live for me, Staffa. Show me you’re worthy of respect. If not, kill yourself sometime when I don’t have to look at your polluted corpse. “

  Staffa curled his fingers into fists. They h
ad been locked together, tormentor and tormented, the roles changing back and forth. In a universe four paces across, Kaylla Dawn had given him the means to find himself, and perhaps a way to atone. The woman he’d destroyed on Maika had become his salvation and his punishment. Ironic justice had been meted. The dance of the quanta, the fingerprint of God.

  Staffa approached the huge doors and waved at the security comm. The heavy ceramic portals slipped back on superconducting tracks to let him into a small pressure lock. From there he passed into a spacious reception area. Nyklos sat at the main desk surrounded on three sides by walls of monitors. He gave Staffa a cool inspection and his bushy mustache twitched. “Magister Dawn is waiting in the conference room, Lord Commander.”

  “Very good. I’ll be accessing some data through the link. You’ll probably want to run copies for Kaylla’s records.”

  “I’ll do so. Thank you.” Nyklos labored to sound civil.

  Rot it all, the hostility between them would never end. As Staffa stared into Nyklos’ brown eyes, he remembered the first time they’d met-with Staffa shoving a blaster into the Seddi agent’s gut. Still want to kill me, don’t you, Nyklos? The old Seddi training lies deep within the brain, and when you had your opportunity, orders restrained you. And Nyklos loved Skyla Lyma desperately.

  “No matter what the species, male dogs bristle at each other in the same way,” Kaylla called in her amused contralto.

  Staffa couldn’t help but crack a smile as he turned his attention to her. She stood in the doorway, brown hair falling to her collar bones in a fashion that framed her square-jawed face. Her gaze met his with the penetrating acumen of a woman for whom life had no more surprises, a woman with a wordly competence beyond her years.

  She wore the thin white robe of a Seddi Magister, belted about her slender waist with a rope. Trim sandals were tied to her feet.

  “Kaylla, you’re looking fit. I take it they’ve been giving you the treatment?”

  One eyebrow arched. “I’ve been stuck, bled, scanned, radiographed, resonated, and analyzed until no molecule remains inviolate in my body.” A pause. “I take it that Divine Sassa didn’t jump at the chance to lay down his arms and welcome us into his embrace?”

  “If you’d ever seen him in person, you wouldn’t want anything to do with his embrace.”

  “Actually most men fit into that category.” She paused, the hesitation just long enough to remind him of what had passed between them. “Come tell me about it. Nyklos? Hold my calls.”

  “Yes, Magister.”

  Kaylla turned and walked away with an athletic poise that demanded attention. More than any woman he’d ever known, she exuded an innate grace and composure, no matter what her circumstance. Staffa followed her down a carpeted hallway paneled in white. The place smelled new. “How is the reorganization proceeding?”

  “Slowly. Without the Mag Comm we’re having to build from scratch. Your technicians have been invaluable. We’ve mastered a great deal of your technology-and for once we don’t have to fear it. When it comes to the reorganization, Wilm has become my right hand. He has a genius for flowcharts and systems theories.” She gestured into the conference room. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

  Staffa entered and drew himself a cup of stassa before seating himself at the table. He accessed his personal net through the Seddi interface and watched as the monitor rose from the desk.

  Kaylla entered and closed the door, dropping a series of data cubes on the desktop. She studied him closely as she seated herself. “How bad is it?”

  “Bad enough. Fat old Sassa has come to the conclusion that with Tybalt’s assassination, he can take Rega—even without the help or approval of the Companions.”

  Her lips pinched. “And the data we provided?” “That’s another problem stemming from the Mag Comm. The machine used such complex data manipulations that the Sassan computers can barely make heads or tails of it. Before we send the same material to Sinklar, we might want to simplify both the data and statistical manipulations into something they can work with. But we did make one very significant conversion. The Legate believes us.”

  “Roma?” She stared pensively at the desktop. “How far will he go?”

  “All the way, I think. You might say that he, too, has become aware. I’m loading the records into your system. Review them at your leisure.” He input the sequence and continued, “Which brings me to the next topic. Myles will provide cover to get more Seddi into Imperial Sassa. I think we ought to place someone talented in his office. Maybe Nyklos, or someone of his caliber.”

  “What is it between the two of you?”

  “We didn’t exactly meet as the best of friends, you’ll recall. All of his life he trained to kill me.” “So did a lot of our people.”

  Staffa drummed his fingertips while she watched him with those knowing eyes. “I guess after living for weeks in that crate, there really aren’t many secrets between us, are there?”

  “I know you better than any other human being alive, Staffa. Perhaps better than you know yourself.” He shrugged. “Nyklos fell in love with Skyla. She never took him seriously. I don’t know how much credence to put in such things, but I think it goads him. Then, too, we’re just the sort of men who grate on each other. Blame it on testosterone. If you’re really concerned about it and smell trouble, call Andray Sornsen in psych and run a profile on both of US.,

  “You’d allow that?”

  “For you, yes. I have too much respect for your intuition. “

  A slight frown etched her forehead. “You still surprise me. I know how difficult it is for you to trust, to open yourself. Tell me, is it really my intuition that concerns you ... or are you looking for another way to ease the guilt?”

  “Pus-Rotted Gods, how do I know if it’s partly tinged with guilt? I’ve got enough to go around for everybody, as you well know. On the other hand, I want to avoid any conflict with Nyklos. You never know when we might have to rely on each other.”

  She gave him a sharp nod. “Very well, let me think about it. In the meantime, we’ve had developments of our own. You should probably know that Tyklat was ordered to Rega, allegedly for promotion and reassignment. I think I told you that he’d been expecting Ily to make some sort of inquiry as to his involvement in the Etarian fiasco. Tyklat had cut many of his communications-working exclusively through Nyklos, by the way. Ily’s order triggered Tyklat’s premonition of trouble. He was going to report in as soon as he had some feeling for his safety.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “We got a cryptic message through an irregular channel that Ily had broken his cover and he was on the run. Tyklat is no one’s fool. A Regan cruiser was stolen a couple of days later by a man matching Tyklat’s description. The Regan orbital terminal silstained some damage and their security batteries damaged the vessel before it made its escape. “

  “Orbital Defense didn’t space a CV after him immediately?”

  Kaylla grabbed one of the data cubes, tossing it up and catching it. “No. Should they have?”

  “That’s standard operating procedure.” Staffa tapped the table to emphasize his point. “Why didn’t they?”

  “Before we get too carried away, the head of Orbital Defense, one Bryn Hack, was found murdered -in his rooms after he let Sinklar slip in unannounced.” “Damn! He was a good man.”

  “Today he’s good and dead. Rumor has it that Ily used an assassin to take him out. But back to Tyklat. Most of their military vessels are currently being grouped around Rega for refitting and resupply as part of TybalVs original buildup for a strike against Sassa. That schedule has been maintained despite the assassination. Staffa, they’re short on ships and apparently in a command crisis. They might not have had a CV ready to chase Tyklat down. Not only that, but Sinklar has been running military training exercises, and a lot of Division Firsts are raising hell about his methods. I don’t think we can count Tyklat out yet. All the breaks may have gone in his direction on this one.”
<
br />   Staffa made a noncommittal gesture. “Nevertheless, if he surfaces, be very, very careful. I’m sure you remember just how good Ily is.”

  “I do, indeed. Before he sets foot inside this complex, he’ll have to undergo a complete psych-analysis. I’ll want him wrung out under drugs, a worry-cap, and anything else your security might know that we don’t. If he’s clean, he’ll understand and submit.”

  Staffa squinted as he considered that, and finally he nodded. “All right. Let me know if you decide to bring him in. What have you learned about the exercises?”. Sinklar is running.

  She laughed and told him, “He’s your son, all right. The report that came in this evening is that his Targan Divisions have made idiots out of the Regan regulars. He had a Division First, some fellow named Lute, shot for disobeying orders.”

  “Good for him. Lute always was an arrogant scumsucker. “

  “He’s probably not going to be the last, either. Sinklar has pulled all the privileges from the old guardeven has them sleeping on the ground with their troops. More than one has been sacked, sent home in disgrace. Sinklar is implementing a program of perpetual military exercise. Apparently he has stated that he’ll use the entire planet if he has to, but he wants his troops ready to tackle Sassa within six months.”

  “Don’t believe it. That’s propaganda for Divine Sassa’s ears. Sinklar wants to move inside of four months, probably more like three. He’s got to have something cooking to handle that Sassan strike force outfitting to hit him. Who are his commanders in these exercises?”

  Kaylla slipped a cube into the comm. She tapped a couple of keys and turned it to face him. Staffa bent forward, reading: “Mayz, Kap, Shiksta, Ayms, Buchman.” He leaned back, stroking his chin. “But no

  MacRuder. Where in Rotted hell did Mac disappear to?”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea. I can have our people there check. “

  “Do it! Wait.” He held up a palm, racking his brain. “Is Gyton still in orbit?”

  Kaylla pulled the data cube out and inserted another. The keys rattled under her fingers as she sifted through intelligence reports and cross-referenced. “We have a record of Gyton arriving and Sinklar’s people taking the planet. But after that ... nothing. At least, no reported change of orbital status. I assume she’s still in orbit.”