Empire's Birth (Empire Rising Book 9)

by D. J. Holmes

  “Attack Jaranna? It would take months for us to assemble a fleet and send it there. And we would have to sneak through the Karacknids’ defensive lines,” Ellian responded.

  “It would take us months,” Becket agreed, “but not a force sent from Earth. If they left today, they could make it there in eight weeks.”

  “There’s no way your people could have the forces to launch such a campaign,” Jourm said, “Could they?” he asked as a small sliver of hope filled his voice.

  “Honestly, I do not know,” Becket answered. “I do not know how the repair and overhaul of what ships survived the Battle of Earth is going. But with Commodore Flew’s squadron there it may be a possibility. We can at least ask. If the fate of Cria hangs in the balance, I know my people will do whatever they can to help.”

  “It would give us a chance,” Ya’sia said with a strength she hadn’t shown throughout the debriefing. “The Karacknids are far from Jaranna. We know it is their main supply depot. And, if we know it’s going to be hit, we could make matters worse for them. We could combine what ships we have here and at Cria and launch multiple probes against Kalesh. We would not have to fight, only skirmish with the Karacknids. Force them to use more missiles and fuel.”

  “We could even carry out a more general counteroffensive,” Jourm said. “If we raid their border systems and force what garrisons they have left there to chase and engage us, we would make the situation even worse.” He nodded. “It’s a possibility. We certainly need to ask. Of course, it may be a moot point if the Karacknids strike before we are ready. But it gives us a chance. There is still hope.”

  Becket allowed herself to smile at the look on Jorum’s face. It could all come to nothing, but she was pleased she had ignited a fire in the leadership of the Alliance fleet. It was still very likely that Cria would fall and that the war would be lost. But it was not over yet. There was hope.

  Chapter 28

  The Coronation of a new Emperor or Empress is always a momentous event in the calendar of the Empire. For weeks surrounding it, almost everything on Earth is brought to a standstill. Representatives from every colonial world are invited; the entirety of the three houses of government are present and more military officers than can be counted provide a guard of honor. On behalf of our entire race, all swear allegiance to the new Sovereign. Parties and feasting occurs on every Imperial world. Though some in our day continue to campaign for a republic, most understand what the Emperors have done for our species over the last six centuries.

  -Excerpt from Empire Rising, 3002 AD.

  Badminton House, Beaufort Estate, England, 18th February 2482 AD.

  “It’s time,” Andréa said as she poked her head into James’ office.

  When James looked up at her he couldn’t miss her grin. It made him grimace. “I look ridiculous,” he complained.

  Andréa shook her head. “Not ridiculous, distinguished. Everyone will be able to see you, even from afar.”

  “That’s not normally something I count as a good thing,” James countered.

  “Well, after today that’s going to have to change isn’t it? A man of your position is meant to be seen, not just heard.”

  “At least it’s only temporary,” James replied. “A necessary evil.” Andréa nodded knowingly. She had heard the same phrase from him several times. “All right let’s be about it,” he sighed. Standing, he glanced at himself in the mirror again and shook his head. He just about tolerated wearing his dress uniform. He thought it too flamboyant. What he had on now was downright comical in comparison. The design dated back a full six hundred years. Though it was a navy tradition, it was not one he appreciated.

  “Just think of all those who have been similarly dressed,” Andréa said as James continued to stare in the mirror. “You’re in good company.”

  James turned to her and smiled. “You’ve always been a glass half-full kind of person. Think of all the bad company I’m about to join.”

  Andréa waved a hand over her shoulder. “That’s irrelevant. You know you are not them.”

  “I’m sure they didn’t think they were like that either,” James rebuffed.

  “Well, whatever the truth of it. I have complete confidence in you Admiral. You will make a fine King. Now, enough dillydallying about, your ride awaits.”

  “Is that how a loyal subject is meant to address their Sovereign?” James asked as he turned away from the mirror and marched past Andréa.

  “A sovereign that needs a kick up the backside to get to their own coronation? Yes, as a matter of fact, that’s exactly how are your loyal subjects should talk.”

  James looked down at her as she fell in step beside him. “You know as King I will have a few more powers than I do now. How would you like to find yourself banished? Or worse, put in charge of restoring the monarchy’s financial records?”

  Andréa’s eyes widened and she feigned terror. “No Sire, anything but that.” With the destruction of Buckingham Palace and so many other parts of London, it was almost impossible to know the specifics of what and where the British Crown had holdings and interests. Many documents and contracts that were hundreds of years old had never been digitized.

  James chuckled, “Just be thankful I’m only doing this so I can nominate and support our new Emperor.”

  “You say that now,” Andréa replied with a wink. “But once you get a taste for power, who knows…?”

  “What is that?” James asked, distracted from coming up with a smart quip when he caught sight of the shuttle that had landed outside his ancestral home.

  “I believe that is your coronation shuttle,” Andréa answered as her eyes twinkled in delight. Though James suspected it was a standard British shuttle, it was hard to be sure at first glance. The entire shuttle had been painted red and blue with gold livery. There were also lions, eagles and dragons painted around it. Like his uniform, he thought it needlessly comical. “Wait till you see your actual carriage,” Andréa warned him.

  “He hasn’t, has he?” James didn’t need to hear Andréa’s answer, he saw it on her face. He groaned. He had known that putting Fairfax in charge of organizing the coronation would come back to bite him but he had done it anyway. Fairfax had insisted and he had had too many other things on his mind to bother arguing. Now he regretted it. He hated pomp and ceremony. So why are you letting them make you King? he asked himself for the umpteenth time. Just grin and bear it, he whispered. Just grin and bear it. It’s only one day.

  Moving ahead of him, Andréa opened one of Badminton House’s rear doors. She then stepped aside to let James precede her. He rolled his eyes at her and moved past anyway. When he got to the shuttle, he wasn’t in the least surprised to see both pilots were in full dress uniform and that six marines suddenly appeared to provide a royal guard. Stopping to salute them, he then went in and took his seat. Andréa slipped in beside him and the shuttle took off.

  Five minutes later a large wave of tents that stretched for as far as the eye could see came into view. Though they represented the loss and devastation that had overcome his country, James still smiled at the sight of them. They represented his one victory of the day. Fairfax had wanted his coronation to take place in Winchester or Lincoln Abbey. With London destroyed, the usual landmarks that played their roles in the coordination of British monarchs were no more. Both Abbeys had witnessed the coronation of one British monarch in the past and they had some historical precedent. James had refused. If he was going to be crowned King of the British Star Kingdom, he wanted to be crowned among his people. The refugees from London, Manchester and Edinburgh would witness his coronation procession.

  “There it is,” Andréa pointed when a clearing in the tents came into view. A horse-drawn carriage with six large white Windsor Greys sat stationary, waiting for its occupant to arrive. “That’s not the original is it?” James asked. He hadn’t thought to check, he had just assumed it had been destroyed.

  Andréa shook her head. “Not as far as I know. Th
ough Fairfax had it built to the exact measurements. Even the gold leaf is real.”

  In formation behind the carriage were a number of naval officers in the ancient uniform of the British Navy similar to what James wore. A nice touch, he thought. It was customary for a monarch who served in a branch of the military to wear the uniform on the day of their coronation. It seemed his carriage was going to get an honor guard of British officers as well.

  When the shuttle touched down and he stepped off, a large orchestral band he hadn’t noticed suddenly struck up the national anthem. Though the music startled him, James couldn’t help but smile when he saw the faces of the officers behind his carriage. Scott and many other British officers who he had served with over the years were all there. Some had just been junior lieutenants with him for a short time, others he knew very well. Even Gupta was there. Fairfax must have asked her to come back from the Beta system just for the occasion. Stopping before the carriage, he offered them a salute. They all returned the gesture, smiling. James couldn’t help but think of all those who were not there. He would have loved to have seen his uncle there, or his two mentors, Admiral Jensen and Cunningham, or Romanov or Mallory. Other names and faces fluttered through his mind as he turned to his carriage. Over the years he had lost many friends and comrades. And now it is my duty to see that their sacrifices are not wasted, James told himself as the significance of what he was about to do truly dawned on him. With a final nod to Gupta and Scott, he stepped up into the carriage. Andréa quickly got in beside him.

  At least Emilie and Becket are only missing because I sent them away, James told himself. He still had not heard any follow-up reports from Emilie, but he was expecting a message from Commodore Becket. Just yesterday the first FTL COM message had been sent to Varanni Prime. The Kulreans had built their tachyon array far quicker than even they had expected. A reply was expected within the next ten hours. As soon as the carriage began to move, cheers erupted in the distance. James forgot about Becket as he looked at Andréa in surprise.

  His Chief of Staff rolled her eyes. “Oh come on. What were you expecting? These are the people you saved from London, Manchester and Edinburgh. Did you think they were just going to let you go by in silence?”

  James couldn’t help but lean out the carriage window and look down the twisting road through the tents. Here and there refugees were waving at him, but in the distance the number of people lining the carriage’s route seemed much thicker. As the carriage drew closer, the noise only increased and soon James found himself looking out at groups of people four and five deep as the carriage passed.

  “I think this is where you wave to your admiring people,” Andréa prompted. “I think it goes something like this,” she added as she held up a hand and twisted her wrist round and round.

  I’m not a pansy, James thought as he screwed up his forehead watching Andréa’s wave. Leaning out his carriage window again, James pulled off his hat and waved it back and forth instead. His actions brought an immediate increase in the cheering from those nearest him. Smiling at them, he continued for several seconds and then sat back down in the carriage.

  “You know they’ll not be happy with just one wave,” Andréa said as she tilted her head downwards while still staring at him.

  James sighed. For the next ten minutes he did as he was told and periodically leant out to smile and wave at the crowds. By the time the carriage came to a halt in front of the large tent Fairfax had set up, the crowds were fifteen and twenty people deep. From the attire many of them were in, James suspected they weren’t refugees but had travelled to the camp for the coronation.

  Stepping off the carriage, James found Fairfax standing waiting for him. The former British Prime Minister bowed deeply from his waist as James approached. His action brought more cheers from the surrounding crowds. “Where did you find this thing?” James asked as he stared up at the tent. Perhaps tent was a little unfair, he thought, pavilion or marquee was probably a better description. It was easily three stories high and had six large wooden poles poking through its roof holding the superstructure up.

  Fairfax winked at him as he straightened. “You’d be surprised at what you can find when you’re trying to put together a coronation. Would you believe it was rented to us for free? The publicity was payment enough. Think of how many people will want to hire out the marquee the King of the British Star Kingdom was crowned in. But… Enough of that, everyone is waiting,” Fairfax said as he turned and gestured towards the pavilion’s entrance. It was lined by two ranks of British marines, their plasma rifles held pointed outwards at the ready.

  Taking a deep breath, James nodded to Fairfax and walked through the honor guard. As he passed each marine, they snapped their rifle against their shoulder and held a salute. Before crossing the threshold of the pavilion, James turned and saluted the marines. It brought another rambunctious cheer from the crowd. Then he spun and entered the pavilion. On either side of the central walkway, there were at least fifty rows of seats. Each row looked to be fifteen or so seats long. It was immediately clear that he had entered a different social class from the crowds outside. The men were all in uniform or wore finely tailored suits and tuxedos. The women on the other hand were far more brightly decorated. Just looking at the headdresses alone made James feel like he was visiting a tropical garden. Every color of the rainbow shone brightly from amongst the crowd. Crossing the threshold made another orchestral band begin playing the theme of the national anthem. Slowly, in time with the beat, James stepped forward.

  As he approached each row of seats, their occupants turned to watch him pass. James allowed himself a few glances but for the most part he stared straight ahead. He needed to keep his mind on what he had come to do. Ahead of him, the Archbishop of Canterbury stood waiting. When James locked eyes with him. He felt a flood in his stomach. He had been nervous for the past few days, but now, when the moment was before him, his stomach started to do somersaults. It took all his effort to keep his body rigid and face straight. He might feel like a nervous wreck on the inside, but he didn’t want anyone else to see.

  When he got to the position marked with a small X just in front of the Archbishop, James stopped and turned to face the gathered audience. His eyes were immediately drawn to the front row where the members of the Emergency Council sat. Christine smiled and winked at him. Koroylov merely nodded while Senator Nicholls and most of the others made one gesture or another to great him. Only Bernard showed no positive emotion. James wasn’t surprised, when he had made it known he intended to press his claim to the crown, Bernard had lost it. Of course, James had understood his reaction and expected it. Having the Chairman of the Emergency Council also be the King of the British Star Kingdom put far too much power in his hands. Bernard hadn’t been the only one who had been uncomfortable with the revelation. Luckily, James had appeased them by offering to recuse himself from all future votes of the Council. As chairman, he would no longer have the deciding vote in a tie. The council had already begun to look for someone to replace him. Even so, James knew Bernard was not happy. Well, he’ll just have to live with it, James thought as his eyes passed over Bernard to take in more of the audience. There was nothing he could do to prevent it now.

  “It is time,” the Archbishop of Canterbury whispered from behind James. Seconds later, the orchestra ceased. Taking another deep breath, James kneeled before the audience. From behind him the Archbishop approached and placed a large, thick velvety red cloak around his shoulders and then attached it in place by linking the two ends of the golden chain around James’ neck.

  “Who has come here today seeking to lift the crown of the British Star Kingdom?” the Archbishop’s voice boomed throughout the marquee.

  “I do,” James responded as he tried his best to project his voice. “James Somerville, Duke of Beaufort, Admiral of the Red, closest living heir to King William VI.”

  “Your claim is found worthy,” the Archbishop responded. “With what oath do you presume to
ascend to this highest of thrones?”

  As he opened his mouth, the somersaults in James’ stomach went into overdrive. The oath sworn by every new monarch had been the same for three hundred years. He had been memorizing it for days, but the pressure of the situation almost had his mind drawing a blank. Hesitantly at first, he began.

  “I, James Somerville, Duke of Beaufort, Admiral of the Red, do solemnly swear to defend the honor and glory of the British Star Kingdom; I will uphold its constitution and values; I will champion its goals and aspirations; and I will guard its people with my life and death. I commit myself to the service of the British people… and,” James continued as he added to the historical oath, “I will pursue the freedom of the entire Human race. I will not cease until the Karacknid Empire has been destroyed. I will avenge all those who the Karacknids have taken from us. This I swear as the King of the British Star Kingdom and a servant to our species.”