Quill’s expression was apologetic. “I am truly, truly sorry about what happened to your homeworld. I never thought even the Lysandrans were capable of such savagery.”
“They were after twelve years of war,” Victor said.
“Evidently,” Quill said. “Which is why Mustang and the Free Worlds in general must be ready to oppose the Lysandran Empire when they finally get around to invading us. Otherwise the Free Worlds risk suffering the same fate as Savannah.”
Victor’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps they deserve it. My brother visited most of the Free World asking for help. All he got was a public execution.”
Quill pointed at Victor. “Don’t condemn all the Free Worlds for the actions of one despot.”
“I’m not. Just for their inaction,” Victor said. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll take my money and go.” Victor stood, his arms falling to his sides.
Quill gave Victor a smile, cold as ice. “I don’t think it’s money you’re interested in.”
“And why do you think that?”
Quill chuckled. “Because I’m good at reading people. What you experienced, what you lost, that does not inspire greed. That inspires vengeance. Something I can give to you.”
Victor crossed his arms again. “How?”
“Help me put together an alliance of Free Worlds strong enough to not only to oppose the Lysandran Empire but defeat them, drive them back to their homeworld. Then I’ll give you Magnus Lacano to do with as you wish.”
A hunger rose within Victor. He saw the path laid out before him. He nodded slowly. “All right. But there’s just one more thing I need before I agree to help you.”
Quill smiled in triumph, resting his back against his chair. “Name it.”
“I need a ship.”
Part II
Blackhand
Two Years Later
Chapter 12
The first months after his return to Lysander had been triumphant for Magnus. The people screamed, “Emperor Magnus!” as confetti rained down from the tall towers of New Pergamum. Similar scenes had awaited him on the vassal worlds during his victory tour of his empire.
Then, precisely six months after Magnus had burned Savannah to a cinder, the Imperial economy collapsed due to a combination of the heavy debt burden the empire had taken on during the war and the near annihilation of its merchant fleet by Savannan commerce raiders.
Magnus was as angry now as he had been the day he gave orders for Savannah to burn. Even in death, the wretched planet and the dregs of its people were still the scourge of his empire. Three-quarters of Magnus’ fleet were now in storage. Tens of millions of unemployed soldiers, sailors, and marines flooded the empire’s depressed job market, driving the unemployment rate above 30 percent in some areas.
The days spent planning battles were instead spent listening to the bleatings of nobles and businessmen.
Lord Taylor Daelus, a short middle-aged man with mouse-brown hair, currently spoke. He was the head of the Imperial Chamber of Commerce. “Your Majesty, you have thousands of warships sitting in mothballs doing nothing while I have goods gathering dust in warehouses waiting for freighters that never come. I propose that some of those warships be refitted as freighters and placed in service with the Imperial Merchant Marine. They would replace many of the merchant vessels lost during the war.”
Magnus fought the urge to roll his eyes as he looked down from his throne. “Lord Taylor, your proposal has the same problem as simply building new freighters has. It requires money the empire does not have at the moment.”
“This would be less expensive, Your Majesty,” Daelus said.
“But not free, and further it would be depriving our forces of warships they may need in the future, thus hurting the security of the empire,” Magnus said. He glanced to his left, noting Lysandra’s empty seat. It was not unheard of for the Imperial heir to be late for court, but, thus far, she had not showed up at all. Where is that girl?
“Your Majesty, the empire is at peace. Do we really need so many warships?” asked Daelus.
“Peace is simply the break between wars, Lord Taylor. When the next war comes, I intend for my empire to be ready for it,” Magnus said. He waved his hand. “You are dismissed.”
Daelus moved his mouth, as if to protest, but wisely bowed instead. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Magnus nodded and rose to leave. The herald cried out that court had now ended.
Exiting through a side door, Magnus removed the Imperial crown, a simple circlet of interwoven white gold wires and blue sapphires, the colors of House Lacano, and placed it on a pillow held by a servant.
He then went to his private study, depositing himself in the thick leather seat behind the old hardwood desk that had been with his family since the Fall.
He opened a drawer, and pulled out a cigar and lighter. He lit the cigar and took a long drag from it, exhaling the rich tobacco smoke in a prolonged sigh. It had been an unending day.
A knock came at the door.
“What is it?” asked Magnus, irritated at the intrusion.
“General Solari is here with your intelligence briefing, Your Majesty,” the guard said.
Magnus had forgotten. “Send him in.” He took another pull from his cigar as the rotund man in the black uniform of the Imperial Marines walked in.
Uther Solari was short and bald as an egg. It was hard to imagine that, many years ago, he had served as an infantryman. Now he was the head of Imperial Intelligence.
Solari bowed. “Your Majesty.”
“Uther, welcome. Do you have something interesting for me today?” asked Magnus, drawing circles in the air with the smoking tip of his cigar.
“Why, yes, Your Majesty,” Solari said. He walked up and set his tablet on the desk. “We found him.”
Solari could be speaking of only one him. “Where?”
“Mustang, Your Majesty. Apparently Captain Selan has had remarkable success as a mercenary in the Free Worlds,” Solari said.
“Hrmm.” Magnus leaned back into the cushions of his seat and took another long pull of his cigar as he thought. The lifepod he had placed Selan in had disappeared from its orbit over the sterilized cider of Savannah. The ships he had left to stand watch over Selan didn’t detect any vessels picking up the pod. It had simply vanished. Now it appeared Savannah’s last son had somehow made his way to the wealthiest of the Free Worlds.
Magnus exhaled the cigar smoke. “What exactly has he been doing?”
“Working for High Councilor Holace Quill, helping him build alliances among the Free Worlds. No doubt to resist us,” General Solari said.
“You think Selan wants revenge then?”
Solari nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty. He’s never said anything publicly about Savannah. He’s not even using his surname. But his actions make it pretty clear that he means to hurt our empire.”
Magnus grimaced. “It seems I made a mistake letting that one go. He was supposed to warn the other worlds of my resolve.”
“As often is the case, Your Majesty, men will respond to punishment by hurting those who judged them,” Solari said.
“What is your recommendation then, Uther?” asked Magnus.
“He is a threat to the empire,” Solari said. “He should be eliminated.”
“How do you plan on doing that?” asked Magnus.
“It will not be easy. Selan spends most of his time on his ship, doing one job or another for High Councilor Quill. But he does still need to return to port at some point or another. It should be easy enough to have a kill-team waiting for him when he returns.”
Magnus scratched his beard. “Holace Quill won’t like it if we kill one of his agents on Mustang.”
“The kill-team will carry evidence linking them with the Kingdom of Mohawk, Your Majesty,” Solari said. “No way can Mustang’s government connect the assassination to our empire.”
“Very well then”—Magnus waved his cigar—“send the kill-team. I think it’s past
time Victor Selan joined the rest of his world.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I’ll send the orders immediately.”
***
After sending a kill-team for the last defender of a dead world, Magnus had just one task left for that day: to speak with his daughter.
Her apartment was adjacent to his own in the royal palace.
Two of her bodyguards flanked the door leading into her apartment. They saluted as he approached.
“I take it my daughter is in there?” he asked.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” one of the bodyguards said. “And the princess is not alone.”
Magnus grimaced. “I know.” He walked to the door and opened it while the bodyguards remained still as statues.
Closing the door, he looked around the main living area. The remains of a roast rested on the main table, along with a couple bottles of wine taken from his own wine cellar.
Someone was taking a shower; the sound of falling water filled the apartment.
He walked to the hallway leading to the bedroom, where the entrance to the apartment’s bathroom was. He noticed two sets of women’s clothing littered the floor of the hallway, forming a trail leading to the bedroom.
Lysandra’s guest was still here, it seemed.
The shower stopped. Seconds later the door opened, and a naked woman walked out. She was a short, attractive woman with an hourglass figure and long blond hair hanging down to her hips.
Magnus suppressed a smile. Lysandra had good taste in women, at least.
Lysandra’s guest noticed him, and her green eyes opened wide. She covered herself and bowed. “Your Majesty!” she squeaked.
“Yes,” Magnus said. “And who might you be?”
“Lady Mari Daelus,” the naked woman said.
“Daelus? You’re Lord Taylor’s daughter, correct?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” she said.
“Your father wanted me to turn some of my warships into freighters to carry his goods,” Magnus said.
She shook her head. “I’m afraid I know little of my father’s dealings, Your Majesty.”
“Hrmm. Yes. It seems you’ve had other things to keep your attention,” Magnus said. “Be a dear and tell my daughter I am here. Then you may leave.”
“Shall I get dressed first?” she asked.
“I don’t care, Lady Daelus,” Magnus said.
Mari swallowed and bowed, then headed to the bedroom, collecting her clothes as she went.
Moments later she reappeared, fumbling with her dress as she passed the emperor. She stopped just long enough to bow and say, “Your Majesty,” as she scampered to the exit.
Magnus allowed himself an amused smile before turning to walk to Lysandra’s bedroom.
He paused just outside the open door and knocked on the door frame.
“I’m dressed, Father. You may come in,” Lysandra said.
Magnus entered and found his daughter sitting at the vanity, wearing a violet robe, brushing her long black hair.
“I missed you at court,” he said.
Lysandra set down her brush and looked at her father through the mirror. Her eyes were the same brilliant blue as his. “I had better things to do than sit around listening to petitioners bleat at you.”
“At some point it will be you those petitioners will be bleating at,” Magnus said.
Lysandra rolled her eyes and stood, turning to face her father. “I don’t have to be your heir, you know. Plenty of concubines in your harem are more than willing to carry another child for you.”
Magnus’ shoulders slumped, and he sighed. “I’d rather not have more children if I don’t have to, Lysandra. You know that.”
Lysandra’s expression became contrite. “I’m sorry, Father. I know their deaths weigh heavily on you.”
Magnus nodded. The destruction of Savannah felt like he had scratched an itch. But, after the exultation of victory, the same familiar pain had returned. Only now he no longer had an object to direct that pain at. Everyone even tangentially responsible for the deaths of Cisar, Rinald, and Landis were now all dead. Except, that is, for the son of the man most responsible, but Magnus had already set in motion the solution to that particular problem. Still, if he were honest with himself, he doubted the death of Victor Selan would bring much peace. It would just eliminate a potential nuisance.
Magnus took a deep breath and sighed, then composed himself. “Nothing will bring them back. But I still have you, Lysandra. Which is why I need you to participate in court. The empire will be yours one day.”
Lysandra shook her head and looked away from her father. “You know I don’t wish to be empress, Father. I grew up watching the war with the Savannans wear away at you.” She looked back to him. “I don’t want to have that happen to me.”
“Lysandra, the Savannans are gone,” Magnus said.
“That’s not what I mean, Father! Ruling the empire means I’ll have to spend my life fighting wars, like you and your father and your father’s mother did,” Lysandra said.
“Lysandra,” Magnus said, “the empire must continue to expand. It is our burden to reunite the galaxy.”
“Why? Why must it be us?” she demanded.
“Our ancestors were soldiers in service to the First Civilization, Lysandra. You know this. They swore to protect the First Civilization. After the gates closed and everything fell apart, they swore to rebuild it. That is the burden you must carry. It is something bigger than both of us.”
Lysandra stared at him for a moment. “Why did you kill them all, Father?”
“You know why, Lysandra. And not just to avenge your brothers. Savannah resisted us for twelve years, using every dirty trick they could to cripple the empire. They committed atrocities that left millions of our citizens dead. And we still have not recovered. I will not allow another world to become an obstacle to our goals like that again.”
“So you’d destroy other worlds?” she asked.
“If I must, yes. But I think what happened to Savannah will serve as an effective deterrent to such intransigence,” Magnus said.
Lysandra chuckled without mirth. “I didn’t realize resisting invasion was considered intransigence.”
“Don’t be flip with me, Lysandra. It is not becoming of a future empress,” Magnus said. “You are meant for greater things than spending your days bedding the daughters of nobility.”
Lysandra smiled. “Please, Father. I don’t limit myself to just the daughters of the nobility.”
Magnus couldn’t help but smile back. “I know.” She was so much like he was when he was young.
“Father, you’re just past ninety. You’ll still be on the throne sixty years from now,” Lysandra said. “I’ll be close to your age by the time I take the throne.”
“Only if you’re lucky, Lysandra. The fact is, you’re just one beating heart away from becoming empress,” Magnus said. “I was only forty when I took the throne from my father, remember? You must be ready to take the throne now, lest some accident leads you there before you are ready. And, while you’re at it, you should start having children of your own.”
“Children? I’m not even thirty yet, Father! And if you expect me to marry—”
Magnus interrupted with an upraised hand. “I don’t care who you marry, so long as it’s someone who can contribute to the dynasty. But I do want you to have children. Unless you want to risk the throne passing to one of your uncles or cousins.” The ones he hadn’t killed yet anyway.
Lysandra rolled her eyes. “Yes, fine. Continuation of the family line and all that. Shall I go to the doctors now and have them implant one of my eggs?”
Magnus sighed. “I’d be fine if you start regularly attending court. That means, showing up on time and not leaving until I do.”
Lysandra grimaced very slightly. “So I can die from boredom? I thought you wanted grandchildren?”
“That’s enough, Lysandra.” He walked up and laid a hand on her shoulder. “I promise to make it worth your while
if you do as I ask.”
She arched an eyebrow. “A bribe is it? And what would that be?”
Magnus pulled the variblade from his belt. “This.”
Lysandra’s sapphire-blue eyes went wide at the sight. “That looks like an original! Where did you get it?”
“It used to belong to one of our enemies. I claimed it as a war prize,” Magnus said.
“A war prize? This belonged to a Savannan?” she asked.
He held out the weapon for Lysandra to take it. “Yes, and now it is yours.”
Lysandra took the variblade, holding it by her fingertips as if it were made of crystal. “Has this blade been reset?”
“Yes,” Magnus said.
Lysandra outstretched her arm and squinted with concentration. The morphmetal immediately formed into curved blade. She let out a breath. “This is a First Civilization variblade! None of the reproductions I have will form this fast.”
Magnus nodded. “I take it you like it?”
She nodded. “I love it.”
“So, now that I’ve bribed you, can I expect you at court tomorrow and in the days to come?” he asked.
Lysandra retracted the variblade and looked him in the eyes. “Yes.”
Chapter 13
From Victor’s seat on the bridge of the Alexander, the ship given to him by High Councilor Quill, the planet Tabor glittered the way all heavily urbanized worlds did from orbit. From an altitude of one thousand kilometers, it was impossible to tell that the system was in the middle of a severe depression. Victor, however, was quite aware of it. He was partly responsible for Tabor’s current economic difficulties.
In his former life as captain of the Osprey, Victor had flown a hundred patrols across the long, vulnerable trade route between the Savannan Empire and Tabor. He alone had destroyed several hundred million tons of shipping in the three years prior to the end of the war. He and other Savannan commerce raiders had not been discriminate. Any ship found on the trade route was a target. As a result, Tabor’s merchant fleet suffered almost as many loses as the Lysandrans did. Consequently Daniel had skipped Tabor during his tour of the Free Worlds to find help.
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