Relic of Empire

by W. Michael Gear

  Skyla had clamped her jaws, and the frigid knot in her guts had begun to ache in earnest. “She’ll only think of me as her rival if I can get my hands on hercollar or no collar, Arta.”

  A predatory gleam grew in Arta’s eyes. “You’re better than I thought you’d be. I’m going to let you up now.” She raised her wrist, showing Skyla the collar control. “It’s matched to my brain waves. Do you want me to demonstrate?”

  “No,” Skyla answered hoarsely, “I know how the cursed thing works. You give a mental command, and the bracelet transmits to the collar. The collar generates a force field through my neck, shorting the nerves, stopping the blood flow through the arteries and veins. You hold the order for a minute or so and I suffer brain damage, maybe a stroke. Sometimes the heart doesn’t start again when the collar is released. Embolisms can form, sometimes blood clots.”

  :’And you know that it recharges?”

  ‘From my body heat-yeah, I know. I’ll be a good girl. “

  The focus in Arta’s eyes changed and her voice dropped. “Yes, Skyla, that’s exactly what I’m counting on. As long as you’re good, it will take a long time to get back to Ily and her drugs and mind probes. I don’t think you want to sit in her little room under the Ministry.”

  “No, Arta, I don’t have the slightest desire to end up in Ily’s little room,” Skyla croaked. And I Rotted well don’t want to be locked up with a mental disaster like you, either!

  Arta ran caressing fingers over Skyla’s quivering flesh again, retracing the scars. Skyla went rigid as Arta’s exploring fingers wound through her pale pubic hair. To stifle her fear, she bit her lip.

  “I’m sorry,” Arta reached up and deactivated the EM restraints. “I guess you’re not ready for that. We’ll have time. Just you and me, Skyla. We have many things to share.”

  Skyla rolled off the bed and into a crouch, heart pounding. For a brief instant, she considered striking, perhaps taking a chance on the collar, but Arta watched her closely with feral eyes.

  Ily rolled off her sleeping platform, pulling back the long silken strands of her hair. The lights rose immediately to bathe her bedroom in soft illumination. She blinked, rubbed her eyes, and called, “Yes, what is it?”

  “Message, Lord Minister. The Lord Commander of Companions is on subspace. He desires to speak with you. I believe he is most upset.”

  Staffa? Ily squinted at her reflection, not liking what she saw. “Tell him it’s the middle of the night here and I’ll be with him in a couple of minutes.”

  “Yes, ma’am. “

  Ily composed her thoughts as she washed her face and touched up her eyelashes. She ran a comb through her hair and fluffed it before walking over to the comm, wrapping a gauzy robe over one shoulder and settling herself.

  “Comm, connect me with the Lord Commander.” “Yes, ma’am.”

  Seconds passed, then Staffa’s hard face formed in the monitor. Ily smiled in satisfaction. Look at the throttled anger. Yes, Staffa, you know, don’t you? “Greetings, Lord Commander, it’s a delight to see you again. You’re looking so very fit. I’d hoped-“

  “You have two options, and only two options. You will return Skyla to me-unharmed, untouched—or I will be coming to Rega, and when I do, there will be nothing left, Ily. Not a single Rotted stone will stand atop another after I’m through blasting your planet to slag. Return Skyla ... now!”

  “Staffa, you’re bein a little….”The comm had gone dead. Ily tapped a finger on the side of her jaw, considering the ramifications. Then she laughed. “Oh, yes, Staffa, you’ve just confirmed what I hoped. And not only that, you’ve forced the issue.”

  She allowed the robe to slip from her shoulders and shook her head to leave her hair disheveled. “Comm, connect me with Lord Fist in the palace.”

  She waited, her heartbeat increasing with the excitement of the moment. Her cheeks flushed as that adrenaline thrill rushed in her veins. Where the Rotted hell was Sinklar?

  Finally the monitor image formed up, Mhitshul’s face staring disdainfully out at hers. The man looked half-asleep. “Yes, Minister?”

  “I would like to talk to Sinklar. Something has just come-“

  He’s not here.” ‘Not there?”

  Mhitshul seemed to snap awake, worry building. “No, Minister. I assumed you’d lured ... I mean, that he was with you.”

  “One day, Mhitshul, you and I will have a long discussion about manners—one you’ll never forget.”

  “Is there anything else, Minister?”

  “Where is Sinklar?”

  ‘I don’t know. I’ll have him contact you as soon as he arrives. “

  Ily cursed and killed the connection. “Comm, connect me with Sinklar’s LC. Now!”

  She fumed, glaring angrily at the pickup. Long moments passed before Sinklar’s face appeared, haggard, hair sticking up at all angles. “Yes, Ily?”

  She hesitated. What was that tone of voice? Rebellion again? “I’ve just had a call from Staffa kar Therma. I’m patching it through.” Ily pressed the stud that would send the message she’d recorded. She ran her tongue over her teeth as she watched Sinklar’s deepening frown. When he looked up thoughtfully, she added, “I believe the Empire might be at risk.”

  Sinklar’s odd eyes glittered. “Do you have Skyla Lyma? Ily, don’t play games with me. Do you have her?”

  “Sinklar, settle down. This isn’t a time for emotional outbursts, it’s a time for calm reflection.” ‘Oh, yes, that it is,” Sinklar agreed seriously. “In

  less than an hour, I’ve got a major exercise to conduct. The reason I’m conducting it is to train my military in tactics that will enable me to crush the Sassan Empire. Then ... and only then, will I be able to draw Staffa out and destroy him. If you’ve gone and pushed the timetable up by abducting the Wing Commander, you may have condemned us all. What did you do, Ily?”

  “Perhaps we should discuss this face-to-face-and after you’ve had a good night’s sleep. You look like you haven’t slept since you left here.”

  “You took Skyla Lyma, didn’t you? The ruse to get Tyklat’aboard Vega and out of the Empire was the cover, wasn’t it? You never planned on slipping Tyklat into Itreata, did you?”

  A growing rage replaced her excitement. “I think you’re tired, Lord Fist. I think you’d better run your little war game and we’ll talk about this later, when you’ve had time to reflect, not only upon the situation, but upon your best interests.”

  Ily killed the connection, allowing her anger to run wild, to power her, to stimulate the recesses of her mind. She settled back on the sleeping platform.

  Think, Ily. What’s happening? How can you use it? Has the time come to put Sinklar in his place? Do you want to move on him yet? Impossible, she needed him for the Sassan invasion. Once launched, however, wars generated their own momentum. And Mykroft could take over.

  “No, I can’t dispense with him yet. But the time has come to begin the process of strangling him.” She leaned her head back, enjoying the feel of her hair as it rolled down her back. “I make a terrible enemy, Sinklar.

  The pliable white fabric felt smooth, providing hardly any resistance as Staffa stroked his fingers down Skyla’s empty suit of armor. He sat on the edge of his gravchair, head bowed, aware of her things all around him, left exactly as they had been. Would this become his new means of self-torture? If he lost her, would he never change this room? Never allow it to be cleaned lest it remove traces of her?

  Comm buzzed. :’Yes?”

  ‘Staffa? Tap Amurka - here. Countermeasures is spacing. We’ve finished the final stat check. All systems green and functional.” A pause. “Is there anything special you want to do?”

  “No. Thank you, Tap. Give my thanks to everyone concerned. “

  Another pause, then: “Staffa? You all right? I mean, we’re all on the verge of killing someone. You know that. But, well, I’m headed down to my place. Gonna drink some of the last Myklenian Scotch I got. You want to ... well, you know, com
e down and bend elbows? Maybe talk?”

  “Thank you, Tap. No. I’ve got too much on my Comm here.”

  “Offer’s open any time, Staffa. You know that.” The Comm went dead.

  Staffa stared sightlessly into the distance, remembering her smile as his fingers continued to play lightly over the glossy white fabric of her armor.

  The entire shuttle shook as the grapples captured it with a ringing clank. The large monitor that filled the forward bulkhead now displayed a view of the underside of Gyton’s irregular hull-a patchwork of plating, ductwork, inspection hatches, and the base of a Comm dish mounting nacelle.

  Mac got to his feet as the “all clear” sounded and made it to the hatch as the lock cycled green. Behind him, Boyz walked with an air of satisfaction. Perhaps the woman had a penchant for piracy? Now that all the loose ends were wrapped up, the Markelos capture would read as a classic military maneuver—except for the two thirds of Mac’s troops who’d stared at the lightspeed warping of time-space and frozen solid.

  But next time-if there is a next time-we’ll practice that beforehand, overcome the fear, show them they can do it, Mac promised as he stepped into Rysta’s warship and saluted the marine at the hatch. Memories of Staffa’s flagship, the Chrysla, lingered in his brain. The Companions didn’t enter a cramped dullpainted niche in the side of the ship like this one. Theirs was spacious and brightly painted, and led out into open hallways.

  He moved swiftly down the long curving passageway, thinking that Markelos, freighter though it might be, had turned out to be a relief with its white corridors and spacious quarters.

  Mac palmed the lock plate on the conference room and waved Boyz in before he followed. Rysta sat at the head of the long conference table, staring at a huge, holographically generated globe: the planet of Imperial Sassa. She ran her tongue around her mouth before smacking her lips and shooting Mac a quick glance. “So, you didn’t shoot your mutineers?”

  “It wasn’t mutiny. The ramps dropped-and what they saw paralyzed them. When I finally got the chance to peel out of my armor, you can bet my crotch was soaking wet, too.” Mac took the chair next to Rysta’s while Boyz sat beside him. He clasped his hands together and finished: “They’re going to be better soldiers next time they have to do the impossible.”

  “Or they’ll figure they can sit back and let others do it without risking their Rotted asses.”

  “Bet me.”

  Rysta waved it away. “They’re your people. Do with them as you wish. You said you’ve got an idea for dealing with Imperial Sassa. So do 1. Want to hear it?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Rysta muttered something into her comm and lights gleamed brightly in orbit around the holo. “What you see here are the orbital defenses. Much the same as Rega, Sassa structures its planetary defenses like an onion from low planetary orbit, to geosynchronous orbit where the big platforms are. Then, beyond that, they maintain ever decreasing radii of targeting and detection stations at various Lagrange points for each of the planetary bodies in the system. Finally, they have probes that carry the EWS, or Early Warning System, in the cometary halo at the system fringes. We’re within that belt incidentally, and since they’re active detectors, we’ve got each one spotted-just as they’ve seen us. At the hail, we responded with the codes the Markelos’ captain surrendered under interrogation. “

  Mac studied the swarm of lights around Sassa. Rotted Gods, he’d had no idea there would be so many. “This is our route of entry to the system,” Rysta explained as a thin red line curved into Sassan space, looped around the planet, and ended at an orbital docking station hanging in synchronous orbit over the capital city.

  “Our target, the Sassan fleet, lies here, directly across the planet from the Imperial capital, and immediately above the main Sassan military reserve.”

  “Why’d they put it clear across their planet?” Boyz asked, a frown marring her broad forehead.

  Rysta gave the Section First her traditional sour look. “Mostly for the protection of their civilian and industrial centers. If a hit is made on Imperial Sassalike we’re about to do-that’s where the most damage will occur. They’re betting on their defenses to minimize it and deflect it, but all those surrounding agricultural areas will be affected by blaster bolts, raining debris, and a host of other things. While such a disaster would be bad enough, think about the complications if your largest population center suffered that kind of disruption. Hospitals would be overwhelmed, comm and power would go out, water supplies would be fractured---civil chaos on top of a major strategic ba:ttle being fought.”

  “But they have bases all around the Imperial city,” Mac reminded.

  “Of course, but most of those are administrative centers, logistical supply, transshipment stations, and support services. You have to figure that if you make it to the point where you can actually hit dirt, you’ve penetrated their defenses in depth. Which is what we’re hoping to do with our little charade.”

  “And once we get in?” Mac asked.

  “Assuming we make it that far, I’d like to explode the -Markelos right over the capital. If we overload her matterIantimatter reactors, she’ll go up like a fireball. The dazzling EMP ought to blind their targeting and communications. In that amount of time, we circle the planet, blast hell out of their resupplying warships, and we’ve accomplished the mission.”

  Mac watched the holo display as it enacted the operation, a strobe of light flashing over the capital as the thin red line representing Gyton shot around the planet and encountered the orbiting station refitting the fleet.

  Mac chewed his lip for a moment, and nodded. “I say we go for it-if you don’t like my idea.”

  I The wrinkle pattern of Rysta’s parchment skin shifted. “Let’s hear it, boy.”

  Mac stood, pointing at the Sassan base. “This is how we’re coming in-just like you demonstratedbut instead of circling the planet, I say we drive Markelos straight into the main Sassan military base. She’ll be 4coming in with an incredible velocity.”

  ‘And they’ll shoot her apart the moment she deviates from course,” Rysta countered. “What makes you think their security people will be asleep? This is an insystem traffic pattern we’re talking about here. The moment a ship veers off course, a thousand alarms go off everywhere.”

  Mac nodded, “Of course they do, but how often does that happen? A couple of times a week? I’ve always heard that the reason they make so many traffic regulations is because it’s essentially a revenue base for the government. The other factor I’m counting on is that Markelos will be accelerating at her full twenty gravities. She’s a big ship, Commander.”

  " And easy to hit as a result,” Rysta countered. “But why in septic Rot do you want to run her straight in? You’ll take out their entire base, sure, but you’ll-“

  “”The targeting comm,” Mac said quietly. “Your plan is excellent, Commander. I have no doubts that we’ll get in under the confusion of the Markelos explosion, but after that? Their command control will still be intact. Their targeting comm will be able to pinpoint us even if we’re pulling fifty gravities trying to get out of here. After that it’s a simple matter of algebra, trig, and geometry to’determine vector, and blast us to plasma.”

  Rysta narrowed her eyes as she studied the course plot. “And if they blast enough of Markelos so she breaks up?”

  “Know what her cargo is?”

  Rysta shook her head. “Stuff from Myklene, right? Spoils of war?”

  “She’s carrying the equipment for two entire Armored Shock Divisions. That’s why she dropped out so far back. That’s why she was shaking and groaning when we boarded. When we kick her over and accelerate her full-bore into Imperial Sassa’s gravity, well, she’ll be headed down with an incredible mass. If they hit her, so much the better. The mass area will widen with each shot. Not only that, those armored vehicles in her belly are ablative coated, they’ll take a lot of beating. When those babies hit the ground, there’s gonna be a big t
hud and people are going to wish they were on Sylene, cutting blocks of ammonia ice for a living. “

  “Rotted Gods,” Rysta whispered. “And we could ride down on her coattails, target the fleet station, and have a first-rate chance of getting out alive.” She slapped the table with her palm. “You know, it’s so outlandish, they’d never expect it. Where did you ever come up with his idea?”

  Mac spread his hands.. “I asked myself what Sinklar would do if he were here.

  The answer was, he’d achieve his objective-namely, destroy the Sassan strike capability. But Sink always thinks ahead. He’d want to neutralize their military potential by inflicting the maximum amount of damage possible, and eliminate or reduce the threat to his evacuation of the combat area.”

  Rysta vented a heavy sigh. “I’m starting to feel old, boy. Real old. All right, let’s do it. I’ll get my people started ‘on the programming for Markelos’ comm. What do you want to do with your prisoners? Send them down as more mass?”

  Mac shook his head. “I think we can dump them in orbit in one of the shuttles. We can deactivate their communications and let them get home in their own good time. Even if they could pirate parts and cobble together something to broadcast with, it would be over before they could put it together.”

  Rysta gave him a grin. “You know, if you and Sinklar weren’t talking about turning my entire way of life on its ear, I could enjoy working with you.”

  Mac shot her a sly smile. “Maybe old dogs and young pups can teach each other a thing or two.” Rysta looked speculatively at the holographic world.

  “Assuming they don’t catch on in the next day or so, we’re going to deal Sassa a blow that I’ve trained all of my life for. You know, don’t you, that it will be very difficult for them to recover.”

  Mac stared pensively at the planet. “I think Sinklar is counting on that.”

  Word had spread throughout Itreata. Ily Takkathe Regan bitch had abducted the Wing Commander of the Companions. The vast workshops seemed to have muted. Talk had dropped to serious discussions around welders, epitaxic vats, and high temperature alloy smelters. Among the Companions-the warriors of Itreata-a grim purpose had possessed them overnight. The pride of a thousand victories fueled their anger. A new urgency rippled through the asteroid moon with electric intensity. Combat training, a routine to keep nerves and muscles in tone, had become deadly serious.