Five Empires: An Epic Space Opera

by Steven J Shelley

  “Nah, you’re not that bad,” Jake said quietly. “I’ve just made it my business to know you.”

  Fusar looked at Jake. He was a physical juggernaut. Also a gifted cybomancer. A horrible thought occurred to her - had he been manipulating her all along?

  “Can’t be too hard for a Nostroma,” she said.

  “No,” Jake said firmly, his face clouding over. “Nothing like that. Never.”

  Fusar believed it. In fact, she’d been drawn to Jake’s sense of honor right from the start.

  “Okay,” Jake murmured, a smile playing on his lips. “To stave off sleep, I’ll play along. What happens if you miraculously pass a Clan Trial?”

  “You know what happens next,” Fusar said, too tired to play games. “We make another challenge. Except one of us will be the Champion. Maybe Mandie is the best option.”

  Jake didn’t speak for a moment.

  “Let’s get one thing straight,” he said. “If anyone is going to act as your Champion, it’s gonna be me. I will not let Mandie fight against that thing.”

  The duellist spoke with uncharacteristic passion. For a moment Fusar thought it was just an emotional reaction to what they’d just seen. But then she noticed the anger in his eyes and realized she’d hurt him.

  “You’re in love with her,” Fusar said miserably. It wasn’t a question at all.

  Jake took her hand. “Fusar, I’d follow you to the ends of the galaxy. You know that. But I’m old enough to be your father. Stop driving a wedge between Mandie and me. It won’t help any of us.”

  Fusar framed a suitable reply, but found she had none. All she felt was humiliation. Fighting back tears, she moved away from Jake, to an empty row of seats. There, she held her face in her hands and let her anguish free. She cried for most the journey back to Dunsilade. Far from being an imposition, her grief was long overdue. Her flight from Tranda, the attack on the Caravan of Light, her incarceration on Bullhead. Everything had taken a toll. When she finally raised her head, Jake was lounging back in the next seat. He rubbed her back softly.

  “You don’t get rid of me that easily,” he said with his most charming smile.

  “Damn you,” she said, choked up. “Why did it have to be you?”

  “Being me isn’t easy.”

  The pair sat in silence as the cruiser began its descent over Dunsilade. Fusar’s tears weren’t really noticed in the general air of shock and disappointment.

  “I’m sorry, Jake,” she said, looking at him through puffy eyes. “I didn’t mean to set Mandie against me. She’s a good person.”

  “It’s okay,” Jake said. “Nothing that can’t be healed.”

  Fusar sighed, seeing clearly for the first time in a while.

  “There’s gonna be more blood before this is over, Jake.”

  “The way I see it, we have two options. You can risk your life joining the Barras Clan, allowing me the wondrous opportunity to face Gyra in the Pit.”

  Fusar smiled at that - she needed some of Jake’s patented dryness right now.

  “Or we can try something different,” he continued. “Take a ship out to Anscha, the military moon. Maybe we can convince one of the generals to go to war.”

  Fusar had to admit it was tempting, particularly if it meant neither of them had to undertake their various Trials. But she knew deep down it was doomed for failure.

  “We need unilateral support,” she said, accepting once and for all what needed to be done. “Removing Silvius from the throne is the only way.”

  “It’s the quickest way,” Jake said stubbornly. “But I agree it’s probably all we have.”

  He bowed his head, deep in thought.

  “Have you considered what will happen, Fusar?” he asked in a quiet voice. “If we somehow pull this off?”

  Fusar nodded quickly. “It’s occurred to me,” she said. “I’d prefer not to think about that. All I’m interested in doing is issue an executive order to mobilize the paladins.”

  “Agreed,” Jake said. “But for fuck’s sake, try and stay alive.”

  “Ditto.”

  65

  Fusar held Jake’s hand as they landed on the platform at Dunsilade. The Senator rose tiredly.

  “I want to thank all of you,” he said in a defeated tone. “I can’t pretend to know what will happen now, but I do know that you need to look out for yourselves. As of today I consider all our business arrangements null and void. You are free to offer your services to anyone who will take you. That is all.”

  “Not so fast,” Fusar said, standing beside the Senator before she realized what she was doing. “I plan to take an endorsed Clan Trial first thing in the morning. Once I have succeeded in joining Barras Clan, I will submit my own challenge for the Emperor’s throne.”

  Dead silence reigned. The Senator looked at Fusar as if she was completely mad.

  “But … that would mean …”

  “I’d need to be head of the Clan, yes,” Fusar said with more confidence than she felt. “With all due respect, Senator, it is my understanding that your political influence is now extremely diminished.”

  Barras rose to his full height in a painful show of dignity.

  “I have always done what is right for the Clan,” he said. “But what you propose, girl, is utter madness. A second failure in the Pit would destroy this Clan forever.”

  Several murmurs of agreement greeted the Senator’s words. Barras held his hand aloft to indicate he hadn’t finished.

  “However, unlike many of my colleagues in the Senate, I am a keen student of geopolitics. I for one recognize the threat posed by the Cava05 and the mysterious Norgaardi, who float like wraiths on the edge of our galaxy. Our Clan’s future prospects are of little import if our common enemies are allowed to invade.”

  More grunts of agreement, only these were louder.

  “No,” Barras said, warming to the task. “These are desperate times. I will secure an official endorsement for this girl to undertake a Clan Trial. Should she prove successful, we will not waste time launching another challenge!”

  For Fusar, the roars of approval were both unexpected and moving. She almost forgot about Jake breaking her heart. Almost.

  As the Senator’s entourage filed down the aft ramp with renewed hope, Barras took Fusar into a quiet alcove.

  “I admire your courage, farlen, but I’m not sure you know what’s ahead of you.”

  “Then enlighten me, Senator,” Fusar said. “Is it something I can do by noon tomorrow?”

  “You’ll have to,” Barras said. “The Emperor’s troops will be at my door at that point.”

  “Will I need to travel far?”

  Barras looked at Fusar thoughtfully. “There’s an old version of the Clan Trial which I think might be appropriate. At least, it’s something you have a hope in hell of surviving.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence. I’m listening.”

  “As you know, we keep several mega fauna species here on Ebessa.The veldt south east of Dunsilade is particularly rugged and isolated. If I can negotiate a fair Trial with my neighboring Clan, that’s where you’ll be headed. In the meantime, get some sleep. Try and relax. My staff remain at your disposal.”

  “Thanks, Yerto,” Fusar said with genuine appreciation. “The next few days might well change the course of war.”

  “We can only hope so. I’ll brief you in the morning. Oh, and Fusar? I assume Mr Le Sondre is to be your Champion?”

  Fusar nodded somewhat defiantly.

  “Be prepared to lose him.”

  The Senator turned to attend to other matters. Troubled, Fusar found Jake and Mandie outside and together they headed to their rooms. Fusar made an effort to be civil to Mandie in an attempt to melt the ice between them. The mercenary seemed to appreciate the turnaround.

  “You were unbelievable back at the Palace,” Mandie said. “If it wasn’t for you, Jake and I would be trophies on the Emperor’s wall.”

  “To be honest, I was disappointed
there were only four paladins,” Fusar said with a straight face. Mandie chuckled out loud and the pair seemed to recover a brick of their friendship.

  The women sat with Jake and discussed what might happen on the morrow. They also touched on the apparent invulnerability of Gyra Fashiel. Fusar had a wave of anxiety whenever she imagined Jake fighting her, but there was no point fretting about future events. Better to stick to practical matters.

  “The Clan Trial will a hunting trial, that much we know,” Jake said. “All we can do now is catch up on sleep and see the gamekeeper in the morning.”

  “Agreed,” Fusar said, bidding her friends goodnight. Her heart ached a little when she realized Jake and Mandie were about to sleep together, but something told her that tomorrow’s Trial would be the perfect cauterizing agent. She padded to her room, ensuring that a closed door separated her from Jake’s chamber. Knowing Mandie was in there was one thing; hearing her would be too much to take.

  Despite all the myriad concerns bouncing around in her head, Fusar slept soundly and woke to the distant braying of zorses on the edge of the Barras estate. Fusar dressed quickly, eager to get moving.

  Wrex the gamekeeper was sitting with an elderly Jaj woman outside his hut. A stiff breeze rolled in off the plains as Fusar approached the couple.

  “Ah, now there’s the young woman I was talking about,” Wrex said, offering Fusar a spare seat. “Fusar - this is my wife Anjalan.”

  Fusar tried to mask her shock as she gripped the woman’s forearm in a traditional Jaj greeting. XX-toxin had clearly ravaged Anjalan’s body.

  “I think I aged two years abandoning my protein bath at Janissa,” Anjalan said with a wide grin. “But I can categorically say its already been worth it. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Fusar.”

  Fusar turned away bashfully, but held Anjalan’s wrinkled hand.

  “I want you to know that I’m here to effect change,” she said seriously. “I’ve been chained up in a pit for most of my life. This is where I’m supposed to be, even if I can’t yet call it home.”

  Fusar didn’t know where her little speech had come from, but suspected it had something to do with finally meeting a woman of her own kind. The encounter triggered something within her, crystallizing her objectives.

  “Thank you, Fusar,” Anjalan said. “You don’t know what this will mean for everyone at Janissa. We lose a few women every day but your arrival is a beacon of hope.”

  “I wish I could visit,” Fusar said with a grim smile. “Right now I’ll settle on being alive at noon.”

  “Yerto has briefed me,” Wrex said, consulting his wrist pad. “He sends his apologies, but he’s busy keeping the Imperials at bay.”

  A wry grin appeared on the gamekeeper’s haggard face. Anti-Imperial fervor was strong here at Dunsilade.

  “We’ve secured an endorsement from the Franle Clan,” Wrex went on. “They own much of the heath you’ll be venturing through this morning. Mischa Franle will be here shortly to blood-sign your Clan Trial. We are bound by the old traditions.”

  “What’s my task?” Fusar asked in a tight voice. Part of her didn’t want to know.

  “These lands support a vibrant ecosystem,” Wrex said. “All levels are represented, including apex predators. Many of these are … large.”

  “What this stuffy old gamekeeper is trying to say is you have a choice of three trophies,” Anjalan said, her eyes twinkling. “Bring back the head of a pardernine, a manticore or a fen snake.”

  Fusar thought the latter two sounded simple enough, but couldn’t really frame a scale of difficulty. Judging from Wrex’s expression, she was in for a torrid time.

  “I understand you’ve already encounted a pardernine,” he said. “They’re extremely difficult for a lone hunter to bring down.”

  “Which leaves the manticore,” Fusar said quickly.

  “Not overly comfortable with snakes?” Anjalan asked mildly. “I don’t blame you for a second. Filthy things, fen snakes.”

  “Manticores are no easy mark,” Wrex observed. “They’re quick, powerful and incredibly aggressive.”

  Fusar leaned back in her chair and sighed. Anjalan scooped a pile of what looked like porridge onto her plate. It smelled enticing.

  “Semela,” the older female said. “Steamed wood oats infused with honey, rhubarb and local beka leaf.”

  Realizing she was famished, Fusar attacked her food with relish.

  “That should last all day,” Wrex said. “All good hunter fill their bellies with semela.”

  Fusar demolished her plate and shyly asked for seconds. Laughing, Anjalan obliged.

  A swarthy old Jaj carrying a pulse rifle emerged from the veldt. Wrex approached him warmly, arm extended.

  “Mischa, welcome,” he said. “I trust your early trek was worthwhile.”

  The hunter tapped a brace of thick, eel-like creatures slung over his shoulder.

  “Pinned these in the Sendain Pools,” he said proudly.

  “I’ll put them on the smoker,” Wrex said, taking the oily animals and disappearing round the back of the hut.

  “You must be Fusar,” Mischa said, taking a seat at the table. “May I be permitted to access your wrist pad?”

  Fusar nodded. The hunter consulted his own wrist pad for several moments.

  “Damned things,” he said. “Much prefer looking at real people.”

  It was true for most Jaj. They were as technologically advanced as they needed to be in order to maintain a certain lifestyle, no more. Compared to the Cava05, they were positively backward. It was one of the things she liked best about her people.

  “I wish you well, young one,” Mischa said. “The Great Clans are watching on with interest.”

  “That’s it?” Fusar asked. “I’m free to begin?”

  “I just needed to verify and endorse the Trial,” the hunter said. “You must also deactivate your wrist pad, please.”

  He looked at the sky and cast an eye over the veldt. The gently undulating plain to the southeast looked hauntingly beautiful.

  “Cloud cover,” he observed. “A touch of humidity. You’ll see animals alright, Fusar. I wish I could help you.”

  Fusar got the impression that she was about to attempt something beyond the skills of even these hardened plains folk.

  Anjalan scooped the rest of the semela into an airtight container and slotted it into a lattice of straps laid out on the ground.

  “Gear frame,” she explained. “Wrex will give you what you need and Mischa will authorize it.”

  Wrex returned with his arms full of hunting items. He slotted them into the gear frame one by one.

  “Depth sounder, for the fens,” he said. “Micro-compass, calibrated to these plains. Canteen. Bug repellent. Hunter’s broad-rimmed hat - you need to keep those braids protected. Binoculars. Bait cannisters. Meat, grain, seaweed, sugar, shrimp. Combat knife. Six inches. Skinning knife. Seven inches. Trophy bag.”

  Silence as Wrex filled the gear frame. No one made eye contact with Fusar. They clearly believed they were sending her out to die. There was no gun, trident, trap or anything that might assist her in her quest. She was required to bring down an apex predator the old way - through guile, sweat and grit.

  “Lend me your rifle?” Fusar asked Mischa with a weak grin.

  “I’d gladly hand it over if it was up to me,” the hunter said with a trace of sadness. “I hate to see a young woman like yourself heading out there alone.”

  “If there’s any other way …” Anjalan said wistfully.

  Fusar could understand the pain in their eyes. The XX-toxin had wrought havoc at all levels of Jaj society. Countless families had been splintered and destroyed. To meet a healthy young woman was inspiring for these people. To see that same precious resource throw her life away in the name of archaic Jaj tradition must’ve been galling to say the least.

  “I’ll be back at noon,” Fusar said, strapping on her gear frame. “And I’ll be hungry.”

  Anja
lan smiled as Wrex helped with the various straps. The gear frame was expertly fitted to her slender build. If she was going to be clambering across deceptively uneven terrain, her weight distribution needed to be spot on. Fusar was ready for the hunt.

  “We’ll be waiting for you,” Wrex said. “Do us proud, Fusar.”

  Fusar nodded. “Any advice?”

  “Conserve your strength,” Mischa said. “And try and stay in the shade if you can. The ambient UV radiation is strong in these parts.”

  “Once you’ve baited, you’d better have a place to hide,” Wrex said. “Those beasts will take anything they see.”

  “We’ll start a bonfire,” Anjalan said. “The smoke plume will act as a reference point.”

  “I won’t forget this,” Fusar said, taking her first steps into the wilderness.

  66

  She got a glimpse of Jake and Mandie standing in the villa courtyard. She felt a little guilty for not saying goodbye, but she felt like she needed some distance from Jake. Not just him, both of them. They’d been her guardian angels up till now, and she would always be grateful for that. But she needed space to grow into herself.

  She wasn’t even sure who that person was. Being chained in a pit for most of her formative years wasn’t the best start a young Jaj girl could ask for. At the very least she knew she was resilient. If she could come out the other side of that with her mental faculties somewhat intact, she could do anything.

  Fusar held the positive thought close as she trudged through the sharp tussocks. The Renquar Plains may have looked as smooth as marble from the air, but they were uneven up close. She walked at a steady pace, looking to cover ground but remain vigilant to danger.

  Like Wrex had foreshadowed, there seemed to be plenty of activity. There must’ve been thousands of small, rabbit-like creatures on these plains. Fusar grew accustomed to seeing them scatter as she approached. She walked for well over an hour before taking her first sip of water.

  The extra humidity seemed to encourage all manner of insects to take flight. Fusar applied bug-repellent to her hands and face, keen to avoid unknown toxins. At length she reached an undulating valley. Dunsilade disappeared below her rear horizon. By this stage Anjalan had started her bonfire - Fusar took comfort from the charcoal smudge against the lighter grey of the clouds.