by Z H Brown
Heronatus slowly ate spoonfuls of stew as he continued to read his article. Heronatus was the chairman of the history department at the University of Xenlong, and after writing a comprehensive history of all the Empire’s species, was invited by the Emperor to personally chronicle his conquests and witness his exploits.
“What are you reading that is so fascinating, Natus?” asked Ranyor, whose own plate was a mix of meat and tough vegetation.
Ranyor was a long-serving member of the Imperial Navy. Getting his start on the cruiser Scaleback, Raynor’s skill and professionalism saw him climb through the ranks. After being assigned to the destroyer Thundercloud, Ranyor took part in the Battle of Nueva 9, where his piloting abilities saved his ship from destruction and made his crew the only Imperial survivors of the battle. His heroism earned him an appointment to the Throneship when the previous helmsman retired.
Tantius groaned. “Thanks, Ranyor. Now we’ll never get to enjoy our meal in peace.”
Tantius had enlisted in the Navy at the minimum allowed age for his people. His career had almost been cut short as the first ship he was assigned to was destroyed in battle with the Imperium. He barely survived, undergoing extensive cybernetic replacement before returning to duty and serving as weapons expert aboard a number of vessels before being chosen to join the Throneship.
Heronatus finished another spoonful of stew before answering. “While we were investigating Angolis, the newest addition to the Empire, the Emperor ordered the downloading of data from their global information network. The data has finally been fully converted, and I’m studying the history of their planet. It’s fascinating. So many singular individuals capable of performing incredible feats! I can’t wait to see how the Emperor puts them to use. Additionally, I believe I’ve already found a half-dozen references to the Seeders!”
The Seeders; an ancient and enigmatic race that traveled through space eons before the Empire. Evidence of their existence could be found by examining startling similarities in early records of religions and myths all across the galaxy. Theories even held that genetic similarities between lifeforms on vastly different worlds could be traced back to the influence of the Seeders. The Emperor was extremely interested in these ancient beings, and anyone who discovered new information about them was held in high regard.
“Speaking of putting something to use, I’m itchin’ to try out the upgraded Throne Lance. The last upgrade added twelve percent more power and shaved eight percent off the recharge time,” said Tantius excitedly, taking a bite of bread covered in a purplish-red sauce.
“Wow, twelve percent more power. I’m surprised the ship can handle such energy levels,” said Ranyor sarcastically. “Tant, what good is a twelve percent power increase?”
“Line up some of those Goldie bastards, and I’ll show you exactly what a marginal increase in power can do; which reminds me: Xior, how long ‘til we’re at the front?”
The navigation officer speared a small, brown morsel from his plate with his long, sharp claws and devoured it before answering.
“Eleven sssstandard dayssss, Tant. The same amount assss when you assssked me thissss morning.”
Xior was one of the few Mantorians to venture off their homeworld, as his people considered most alien species to be little better than prey. As a navigator, Xior had proved his intelligence and dedication to the Empire aboard numerous ships in the fleet before being promoted to Xandarius’ flagship.
Ranyor gave Diamond a questioning look.
“What’s wrong with you, D? You haven’t said anything since our shift ended. You didn’t even grab some nutrient supplements for yourself.”
Diamond had spent most of his military career serving aboard communications ships patrolling the contested areas between the Empire and Imperium. His natural talents led to a marked increase in efficiency on every ship he was stationed on, and it didn’t take the Emperor long to take notice. After his previous ship had finished its tour, he’d been promoted to serve aboard the flagship.
~Do not be concerned, Ranyor. I am merely preoccupied with my thoughts.~
“Well, try not to get too lost in thought, or you might take the wrong turn down a hall and end up mistaking an airlock for a lift.”
This got a laugh from the rest of the table, and the conversation turned to other things.
Diamond, however, did not join in the talk.
He was too busy trying to decipher what the voice in his head was saying.
Chapter VII
A Long Way from Nowhere
Shield Forces are responsible for protecting Imperial space from internal and external threats, as well as conducting rescue and relief missions. However, during times of open war, ships and soldiers from safer and more stable systems may be pulled for use on the frontlines.
--Excerpt from The Newcomer’s Guide to the Empire
The endless expanse of space was suddenly broken by a black and purple void that existed just long enough to eject a damaged silvery-white craft before fading into oblivion. The ship came to a shaky stop as though it was a wounded animal catching its breath, its lights flickering and smoke and debris streaming out behind it.
Things were little better inside the ship. The interior lights flashed unstably while the emergency lights waited to activate, and smoke seeped out from the door that led to the compartment that housed the engines.
Ansaria rubbed her head from where she sat in the central chair. Their rocky flight hadn’t done her ribs any favors, and now she had a pounding headache to boot.
“Sound off, everyone; make sure I know who’s alive.”
She heard grumbles of life and groans of pain from all her crew, so she moved on to the next issue.
“Slog, status report. An accurate one, this time.”
The pilot groaned and rubbed the back of his neck before he began accessing the ship’s computer. As he worked to discern the vessel’s status, Ansaria turned to look back at Alvara. The semi-serpent had been knocked from her seat in the sudden expulsion back into normal space, but a quick thumbs up at her sergeant affirmed her wellbeing.
“Well Sarge, I’ve got bad news, worse news, and good news,” said Slog. “Alright, what’s the bad news?”
“That surprise jump we took into Z-Space, along with the damage the engine took when it was hit, has fried our Z-engine, and according to the computer, we have no means aboard of fixing it.”
That was bad news indeed. Without a Z-engine, they were stuck traveling through normal space, and there was no way they could reach the rendezvous on time with their regular engines. They couldn’t risk an SOS either, as the only way that would reach someone in time was if they broadcasted it over the IIN, and that was out of the question.
“What’s the worse news?”
Slog used his TIG to project an astromap depicting Imperial space.
“The ship has figured out our new position….and it looks like the jump took us in the wrong direction.
A glowing red point appeared on the map, the stellar location of their colony and departure point. A glowing blue dot appeared, indicating their intended destination, lying to the ‘east’ of their starting point. Now the red point disappeared and reappeared to the ‘northwest’, nearly doubling the distance between the two.
Ansaria collapsed back in her chair. Now their situation was even more impossible. How on Xenlong were they supposed to get out of this?
“Slog, if the only good news you have is ‘the air is still on’, then I’m going to strap a rocket pack to you and make you tow us the whole way.”
“Save your fuel, Sarge. The good news is that we emerged near an Imperial colony.” Slog tapped his TIG and a yellow dot appeared next to the red one. The map zoomed in and the yellow dot appeared in a nearby system, easily reachable by the regular engines.
“Now that’s what I like to hear, Slog. Remind me to recommend you for a promotion when this is over,” said Ansaria.
“Sure, assuming we don’t all get thrown i
n prison for this,” grumbled Slog.
“Actually, Slog, I believe at this point our crimes would be grounds for execution,
though, I suppose the Emperor could be fair and grant us both,” corrected Tread matter-of-factly.
“A promotion and an execution in the same day? Sounds exhausting,” chuckled Alvara.
“You guys’re real good at put’n a fella’s mind at ease,” said Slog, shaking his head.
The trip to the colony had been time consuming, but uneventful. Still, to Ansaria, who held the fate of the Empire (quite literally, it seemed) in her hands, each slowly passing moment felt like it was bringing her whole world closer and closer to destruction.
The colony (Myrthal, according to the ship’s database), was a blue-gray planet, arid and mountainous with very little surface water. As they approached the planet, a beeping filled the cabin.
“Incoming message from ground control, sergeant,” said Tread. “I’ll take it on my TIG,” said Ansaria.
The beeping stopped, and a light began flashing on Ansaria’s unit before she activated it.
“This is Myrthal Central Space Control. I’m sorry, but our planet has strict visitation rules, and I cannot allow you to land.”
Well, thought Ansaria, it appeared that they hadn’t flagged the ship as stolen, nor had they suggested that they hold in orbit, which would allow them to be caught in an ambush in their present condition. It seemed that the squad’s reputation had not preceded them.
“This is Sergeant Ansaria of the Imperial Military. My squad and I are on a mission for His Majesty, Emperor Xandarius, and our ship has been critically damaged. We request immediate permission to land.”
The voice on the other end was silent; silent long enough for Ansaria to feel the rest of the crew beginning to get nervous. Before anyone could say something, the voice spoke.
“Permission granted. Landing coordinates are being transmitted.” The line went dead after that.
“Not the most welcoming place is it?” joked Alvara.
As the ship entered the atmosphere and broke through the clouds, the crew could see just how mountainous the planet was. The ground beneath them bristled with jagged peaks towards every horizon. The gray terrain was pockmarked with valleys, craters, and numerous fault cracks that broke up the never-ending expanse of mountains. It was toward one of the larger craters that the ship headed.
As they got closer, they could make out the settlement that had been built. The town still mostly hugged the bottom of a mountain, with a number of individual structures scattered throughout the rest of the flatland. The ship was being directed to one of the installations outside the settlement.
The landing site consisted of a landing pad and a single, large building that looked like a warehouse. The ship landed with a shudder and the crew made their way towards the hatch.
“OK everyone, weapons out, but at ease. We don’t want to look like an invasion force, just like we’re ready for trouble,” commanded Ansaria.
The crew nodded, tried their best to look only semi-threatening, and exited the ship. A trio of Myrthalians awaited them outside. The three were average-looking bipeds, with slightly enlarged and completely smooth heads. Their skin was dark grayish-blue like the stony surface of their planet, and they wore blue uniforms. Ansaria briefly wondered if all the Myrthalians matched their environment as well as these three.
In addition to their stony appearances, the three were stony-faced (which was something that Ansaria had to try not to laugh at) as they waited for the whole crew to exit the ship. When they had, the lead envoy spoke.
“Please follow us.”
With that, he turned and headed toward the building, with the other two close at his heels and the squad trailing along.
They entered the building, and, just as Ansaria thought, it was a warehouse, though one that was currently almost completely empty except for a line of machinery and equipment for loading and unloading materials that sat cold and unmoving along the back wall. The trio was leading them toward a room directly ahead of the entrance. Inside was a simple, white-walled office, with a single occupant: a Myrthalian who looked exactly like the others, though he had a green band on the arm of his uniform. The Myrthalian waited for the squad to file in and their envoy to leave the room before speaking.
“My name is Joyus, and I am the administrator of this facility. It is my job to assist you in repairing your ship so that you may leave our world as soon as possible.”
“We appreciate your aid, Administrator Joyus. My name is Sergeant Ansaria, and this is my squad. I was wondering--”
Ansaria was cut off as Joyus raised his hand. “Your repair needs, please.”
Ansaria turned slightly to look at Alvara, who could only raise an eyebrow in response. Ansaria keyed her TIG and displayed their ship’s damage report. A moment later, the image appeared over Joyus’ TIG. He studied the list before turning off the image.
“I’m sorry, Sergeant, but we do not have the materials necessary to repair your ship at this facility,” said Joyus.
“Oh,” said Ansaria. “Is there another facility in town that does have what we need? Or another colonial outpost on the planet?”
“Myrth is the only inhabited area on Myrthal, and it does not have the materials you need,” said Joyus, never once changing his expression or tone.
Critter suddenly spoke up.
“He’s right, how is it that an Imperial colony, in Imperial space, doesn’t have the means to fix a standard Z-engine?” agreed Slog, whose tone reflected the frustration the whole squad was feeling.
Joyus did not immediately answer, and when he did, his voice carried its own tension and anger.
“The materials you require are strictly controlled by order of the Imperial-appointed governor,” he almost seemed to spit the last part out. “He is the only one who can supply you with what you need.”
Finally, progress.
“Then may we please speak with him so that we can get our ship fixed and be on our way?” asked Ansaria.
For the first time, Joyus stood up.
“I shall contact the governor’s residence and inform him of your situation. However, given the governor’s….busy schedule, it may be a little while before he responds.”
Joyus walked over to the office door and held it open.
“In the meantime, I invite you to visit Myrth and enjoy yourselves. So few Imperials soldiers ever find their way here.”
Ansaria stood unmoving for a few moments before she nodded her head and led her squad out the door. As she passed Joyus, Ansaria gave him a quick glance. Though his face remained relatively blank, she could see the anger in his eyes, and she wasn’t sure just who that anger was for.
The door closed behind the squad with a snap, and they made their way across the warehouse and out the door. The lead envoy was waiting for them outside.
“The administrator has asked me to provide transport for you to Myrth.”
As he said this, a hover vehicle rounded the corner, driven by one of the other two envoys. The vehicle consisted of a single, two-seater cabin with a large, open flatbed.
The vehicle came to a stop and the driver climbed out. Before anyone could say anything, he began walking back towards the warehouse, followed at a brisk pace by the leader. The squad studied the vehicle in silence for a few moments.
“I call passenger seat,” called Alvara quickly.
“Good thing I’m the team driver,” said Slog, who began walking towards the craft with a smug gait.
“On second thought, Slog, I think I’ll handle this one. Don’t want to get rusty behind the wheel, you know?” said Ansaria with a suppressed grin.
Slog grumbled something under his breath.
“What was that, private?” coaxed Ansaria, brows raised.
“Nothing, Sarge, just wishing you a good drive.”
“That’s what I thought you said, now pile in, everybody.”
Ansaria and Alvara climbed into
the cabin, while Slog and Tread clambered into the back. Critter was riding in the front, to spare him the wind chill. Ansaria powered up her craft, and they raced towards the settlement of Myrth.
All the buildings were made of a concrete substance that seemed to be made locally, since they had the same bluish-gray color that permeated the landscape. The town wasn’t very large, and most of the buildings were devoid of advertisements or decorations, just business names and address numbers. The population on the street was overwhelmingly Myrthalian, though a smattering of other races gave testament to the colony’s Imperial connections. Everyone they passed watched the vehicle as it hovered down the street
After passing what appeared to be another drab block, Ansaria’s TIG suddenly pinged. It was Slog.
“What is it, Slog?”
“We just passed a good place to hole up for a bit, Sarge. Two blocks back on the corner.”
Ansaria slowly wheeled the vehicle around back in the direction they came. As they approached the building, the sign identified it as Delight’s Bar. They parked the hover truck and piled out.
The inside was dimly lit and moderately spacious, with only four beings inside. A pair of Myrthalians were playing a tabletop game while a Myrthalian bartender refilled the glass of an bipedal icthyian with a liquid-filled breathing contraption around his neck. All the occupants turned to stare at the squad as they entered, and never took their eyes off them as they made their way towards the bar.
Ansaria sat down first, a couple seats away from the amphibious patron, followed by Alvara, Slog and Tread. Alvara sat Critter down and plopped onto a bar stool. Ansaria looked pointedly at the barkeeper, waiting for him to come over to them. However, the Myrthalians continued to stare at them, while the aquatic customer had turned back to his drink.
“What do you have on tap for some of the Empire’s finest?” asked Ansaria.
It was apparently the wrong thing to say, as the Myrthalians, who had all looked tense since they got there, now looked positively livid.
It was that look that made Ansaria decide that she had had enough. Ever since they’d landed, her squad had been treated with nothing but hostility and dismissive contempt. She didn’t know what the problem was, but she was going to find out. She stood up, towering over everyone else in the bar.