Imperium: Revelation: Book Two in the Imperium Trilogy

by Paul M Calvert

  Fredrick looked around the room as glasses were raised to match his, making a mental note to have anyone who looked worried or nervous watched carefully. Now was not the time for the faint-hearted; not with an Empire to win over. All of the thirty-five co-conspirators currently seated around the table could, in the fullness of time, expect to become the new nobility. The current Dukes and Duchesses who were part of the conspiracy didn’t know it yet, but they too would be replaced once the rebellion was complete.

  Frederick chuckled inwardly, still amazed at how easy it had been to fool them all. “After all,” he told himself, “Do they really expect me to trust them when they and their parents have betrayed their oaths once already? Only a fool trusts a proven traitor, especially when the habit runs deep in their family.”

  He let the fiery smooth liquid roll around his tongue, tingling as he swallowed, feeling it travel down his throat and settle warmly in his stomach. Satisfied he was now the centre of everyone’s attention, he began by asking for updates from each of those present, starting with his High Constable, Brendan Brook, seated to the left. Frederick intended to let the reports wash over him, so sat back in the thickly padded chair, relying on the Palace AI to spot inconsistencies or factual errors and point them out to him. It felt good, the long years of waiting and planning now just waypoints on the long journey to get to this point.

  “My father would have appreciated this moment, but I’m glad it’s me and not him that is alive to savour it,” he thought, looking back across more than a century to when he had been first made aware of his family’s desire for the throne. After his father’s death, he’d taken over the conspiracy, only far more successfully, easily manipulating the previous Emperor’s brother into doing his bidding. Marcus had been a bitter Prince, unable to accept that it was Thomas who was the Emperor and not him. It had been so easy for Frederick, with only a few words here and there, to fan his resentment into treasonous thoughts.

  “Of course,” Frederick thought, “Had the fool listened to me he would have succeeded, but no, he had to strike early, leaving Alexander alive and well, hidden somewhere. I would have enjoyed seeing the look on Marcus’ face had he been successful in becoming Emperor, only to have me replace him once he’d outlived his usefulness.”

  Fredericks good humour was soured for a moment as he recalled what had happened after the Emperor’s death.

  “Where did that bookworm Alexander ever find the backbone to fight back?” he thought, recalling the young Alexander, an earnest man who hadn’t been seen for three years, apparently living as a bookish hermit with no interest in becoming Emperor, only to return a month after the assassinations, fighting alongside Duke Gallagher. “And where too did he find that Valkyrie of a wife, who fought alongside him and his personal Weapons Master, the poisoned dwarf, Hiro?” Barely able to hide his involvement in the death of Alexander’s family from the suspicious Gallagher, fighting for control of the Empire had eventually ended here, in this system, where Kiyami itself had narrowly avoided destruction as the two opposing fleets met in a gigantic final battle. Traumatised by the experience, Frederick had spared no expense in fortifying his home planet, turning it into the most highly defended system in the Empire.

  “Regrets are for fools and amateurs,” he told himself, dismissing his thoughts.

  He took another drink, annoyed he’d let these old regrets spoil this moment. The AI warned him Brook was about to reach the part of his presentation where he would talk about his consolidation plans, so he brought himself fully back to the present. Brook, a capable but humourless man, was also Commander of the tenth fleet in addition to his duties as High Constable, conducting himself with ruthless efficiency. Frederick watched and listened as Brook set out his plan to consolidate his hold on sector ten once Duke Vincent had outlived his usefulness. Frederick respected Brook’s capabilities and ambition but didn’t trust the man’s unsettling religious fervour which came out in his utter disregard towards those he deemed not worthy. Now that sector nine was secure, Brook’s plan was to take part of the ninth fleet, along with elements of Admiral Ferris’s and take over sector eleven, currently being managed by the Crown until Duke James came of age. Only twelve years of age and relatively untrained in statecraft, the young Duke and his minders would provide little resistance to the combined force.

  Brooks finally finished and his neighbour, Commander Mehl, had just started to make his report when the Palace AI interrupted proceedings by announcing it had received the initial carrier wave from the nearest Jump Station, a precursor to the awaited battle report from DU-499. The room fell silent, with more than a few taking another drink to steady their nerves before the message finally came through. Above the table, the holographic representation of the Empire faded away, replaced with the triumphant face of Admiral Ferris, standing on the bridge of his flagship. The silence in the huge room was total as everyone waited for Ferris to begin speaking.

  Admiral Ferris had known that the two-hour time delay in his message reaching Kiyami meant that no-one present would be able to interrupt or question him, so before speaking he made the most of this opportunity to impress, by looking around at those he knew would be assembled.

  “As you can see from the attached report, as planned our forces had them trapped them at the destabilised Jump Point and began the assault. A screening battleship’s engines catastrophically failed, resulting in a rare total conversion cascade which engulfed all the defending ships. Dauntless was caught up in the expanding wave and completely consumed.”

  The image of Ferris paused for effect for a few moments, then began again, certain it had everyone’s full attention.

  “Despite exhaustive searching, we could find no evidence of anything having escaped the conversion wave, other than a number of message buoys which sensors confirmed held nothing organic. The Jump Point itself remained destabilised for a number of hours after the battle, again confirming Dauntless could not have escaped. My fleet has made the Jump to your system and is taking station here at the Jump Point awaiting your orders. Emperor Frederick, I would like to be the first to congratulate you on your great victory.”

  The image of Admiral Ferris nodded, then faded. All those assembled turned away from the fading image and looked down the table at Frederick, searching for a sign from him which would determine their own response. Impassive, he did nothing for a few moments, before smiling broadly.

  “As I predicted, so it has come to pass,” he began, “Now we move to consolidate our position and await the counter-attack from Duke Gallagher and his supporters, assuming he escapes the little traps we have arranged for him.”

  He reached for his glass and stood up, everyone following his example, the room silent except for the sound of scraping chairs.

  “I give you the Second Empire.”

  Scene 10, Planet Wayland, Duke Gallagher’s home planet.

  Tired, but thoroughly enjoying himself, Duke Patrick Gallagher watched the dozen or so youngest children of his extended family run around the lawn, screaming and shouting at the top of their voices, playing some kind of chase game. Despite having been away for over six months, none of them had forgotten him and, to his amazement, he found their noise surprisingly satisfying after spending almost a week alone on a private yacht, travelling home from Kiyami. He somewhat envied them their innocence and wondered what it would be like to be so carefree again, barely remembering his own youth, so long ago.

  Patrick was doing his level best to put behind him the tragedy on Heaven, where over one hundred of the Emperor’s bodyguard and over a dozen of his fellow diplomats had been killed, but he felt more than a little responsible and it weighed heavily on him whenever he thought of it. He’d used the journey time home to compose letters of condolence to their families and although it was something he’d had to do countless times before, in some way he was gratified to find it hadn’t become any easier. No matter how many times he went over his actions and findings, he couldn’t have called the f
inal decision to allow the planet to ascend into the Empire any differently, however, it didn’t make the subsequent debacle any easier for him to accept.

  A particularly loud scream coming from the garden made him look up to see what was going on and check if any of the children had finally managed to kill themselves somehow. Satisfied they would all live to torment him when they tired of running around, he sent a thought to Carmen, his Palace AI, checking whether dinner was ready.

  “Another thirty minutes and everything will be ready, Patrick,” came the reply, her voice still sounding happy to have him back. “Your three times great granddaughter Francesca is trying to circumvent the Palace’s entertainment system to alter the parental controls and her brother Martin has almost cracked through the first level of house security. Apparently, he is looking for ways to turn on the lawn sprinklers and soak everybody.”

  “Warn me before he turns them on, Carmen, as I don’t want to get wet. Let Francesca’s mother know what she is up to, then only let the little horror into educational programmes for the rest of the day. That’ll teach her a lesson.”

  Satisfied he’d managed to annoy at least one of his family, Patrick took another sip of his drink, a non-alcoholic mix of freshly squeezed lime juice and ginger beer in a long glass, topped off with crushed ice.

  Yesterday, Patrick had called the family altogether from across the planet, feeling the need to see everyone. His eldest son and heir, Thomas, Vice-Admiral of his Home Fleet, was away on manoeuvres near this system’s only viable Jump Point. On arriving back from Kiyami, he’d immediately sent his son a message, updating him on the attempt against Alexander on Heaven and his narrow escape, telling him to ensure the fleet was brought up to battle readiness. As with the planet Capital, this system, Wayland, only had one viable Jump Point. In the early days of the Empire’s expansion, it was deemed prudent to populate those systems with only one Jump Point as this made them much easier to defend from attack. As Patrick went over the preparations his son was making, he fondly recalled his old friend, the late Emperor, who had been pleased and flattered to have Thomas named after him, insisting he had to be his Godparent. As always, whenever he thought back to those times, Gallagher ended up sighing deeply and today was no exception.

  Another shout from the garden, deeper and louder this time, made him look up. Thirty yards away he saw one of his Generals running after three of the children who’d apparently crept up behind him and stolen his hat, running off with it towards the trees. He chuckled out loud, then shouted out encouragement, not too sure whose side he was on.

  He looked around for Lt. Collinson, his aide, surprised he’d not been the one picked on by the children as they had taken a liking to him and tended to tag along behind wherever we went for a walk in the gardens. Despite still being a bit of a stuffed shirt, he had a way with children which they responded to. A quick check with Carmen confirmed he’d gone below into the main command area.

  “Probably gone there to get some peace and quiet. Collinson hasn't done too badly, all things considered,” he mused, “he’s managed to avoid getting entangled with my nieces, or, at least, any that I’m aware of,” he told himself, impressed either way. “Now, how can I stress test him?”

  Patrick closed his eyes and settled back into the recliner, allowing its subtle harmonics to soothe away a little of his tiredness, but still keeping himself aware of the sounds coming from the garden, trying to think of a suitable test. Overhead, noticing Patrick close his eyes and relax, Carmen adjusted the amount of light coming through the force shields covering the Palace and grounds so that he was kept in the shade. Performing trillions of tasks every second, Carmen devoted only a relatively small amount of her processing power to look after the smooth running of the Palace and Patrick’s needs, whilst the remainder was focused on running the economy of Wayland.

  An urgent incoming carrier wave and message caught her attention, immediately followed by a priority one alert coming from the Jump Point with dire news of the Emperor’s reported death and Duke Frederick’s action in claiming the throne. Following protocols for such an event, Carmen automatically began triggering additional shielding around the Palace and vital buildings, instructing them to fully harden. That done, she turned the focus of her attention away from routine tasks to the message, allowing other AI’s to take over the load, then sent a precis of it to Patrick, who sat bolt upright in his recliner, the crystal glass resting on his chest flying off and shattering on the limestone patio. At the same time, all around the garden adults began gathering up their protesting children, as the severity of the message was transmitted to them via their own implants a few seconds later.

  Suddenly, the sky directly above became a painful glare, which almost immediately dimmed as the defensive shields dissipated and absorbed the impact energy. Looking upwards, his lenses darkening to compensate, Gallagher could see circles of plasma and flame expanding around a still intensely violet core. As he watched the light show, several deep rumbles could be felt as the air beneath the screens resonated to the impact strikes and the sound waves finally reached the ground. Messages immediately came through from Carmen, warning him to get to cover. A number of freighters in low orbit had accelerated at high-G towards the Palace, obviously trying to punch their way through the shields and detonate on the Palace itself.

  Not wishing to scare his family by running, Patrick walked swiftly to his personal elevator, covering the ground quickly. Only seconds away from it, he watched half a dozen of his Palace bodyguard emerge from the entrance, having just surfaced from the military complex below. Unlike Alexander’s Imperial Palace on Capital, where the Barracks were many miles away and located in a dense forest, Patrick preferred to have his close by and had rebuilt his new Palace on top of the Barracks, buried deep underground in the planet’s mantle. The Sergeant Major saluted, then handed him his ubiquitous briefcase, which on being passed over, began to morph and flow around and up Patrick's arm, travelling down across his chest and legs, forming a battle suit. Patrick watched as it flowed down into the floor of the elevator and began to draw additional smart-metal through it to bulk up the suit into full combat readiness.

  By the time the lift had reached their destination, many miles below the Palace, the suit had completely formed into his personal battle armour, with only the helmet retracted to show his face. A message had also come in from his son, close behind the first one, confirming an attack had been successfully repelled by the Jump Station and his fleet was moving at speed to reinforce it, arriving in a little under six hours. Gallagher set off towards the War Room, where he would await the arrival of his planetary nobles, now coming in from across the globe by vacuum tube. Carmen was currently replaying recordings of the attacks on both the planet and Jump Station through the vision of his left eye, leaving his right clear for updates on planetary readiness and to look where he was going.

  He reached the War Room, entered and sat down at his usual place around the circular table which dominated the room. He’d already played the recordings through twice and had a bad feeling about the whole affair. Something else was going to happen, he was sure of it.

  The Jump Station, already on alert as a precaution after the attempt on Alexander, had also been assaulted by a number of small freighters which had tried to move closer to the Station after Jumping in from Sector twelve. Suspicions had been raised by their failure to observe post-Jump Protocol and await scanning. Apparently, the attacker's plan had been to move the freighters inside the Jump Station’s wall shields, then detonate their matter conversion engines. Suspicions raised, the Station had fortunately held them in place, using unbreakable planes of force generated by its formidable defences. Unable to move and about to be scanned, the ships detonated early, uselessly expending their energies against the shields, causing minimal damage to the Station but vapourising and seriously damaging a dozen nearby ships simply going about their normal business who had been waiting patiently to be scanned.

  Ca
rmen interrupted the replays, replacing them with an urgent message from the Station. The Jump Point had somehow stopped working, effectively stopping all incoming and outgoing transmissions, but not before intercepting another transmission from Duke Frederick announcing the death of Alexander and Adam and his stepping in to run the Empire.

  Shocked to his core, Gallagher sat still, his mind racing through various possibilities.

  “Carmen,” he said out loud, “project my son’s fleet disposition relative to Wayland and the Jump Point, together with all inbound and outbound ships. Expand scale as required.”

  Immediately a holographic representation appeared, growing larger as data from numerous sources began populating it. Anticipating his next question, Carmen spoke, “Inbound in red, outbound in blue; fleet in Imperial orange. No unusual patterns identified inbound.”

  Patrick considered the scene for a moment, then spoke.

  “Instruct planetary defences to place all inbound ships into a holding pattern around the moon. Any that refuse or deviate are to be considered hostile and terminated with extreme prejudice, even if they are hospital or school ships. Impress on our Commanders the importance of nothing getting close to Wayland without a thorough inspection. Those behind this are sneaky bastards and liable to try anything.”

  “Instructing now, Patrick, acknowledgements coming in. Several Baron’s have arrived and the rest are expected within the hour, I’m updating their AI’s with developments now. Several other of your key nobles were also targeted, fortunately again with minimal damage.”

  Gallagher nodded, knowing Carmen would recognise the gesture without the need for him to say or think anything, his mind still running over possibilities.

  “What would I have done?” he asked himself, “Just trying to take out the Jump Point is pointless, so why do that unless it was simply a diversion?” He thought hard, then, speaking out loud, gave Carmen more instructions, “I want all freighters and ships who are still in orbit more than one day after loading or unloading cargo to be moved into a higher orbit, but I want planetary defences to have them targeted before they are told to move, just in case.”