Imperium: Betrayal: Book One in the Imperium Trilogy

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Imperium: Betrayal: Book One in the Imperium Trilogy Page 2

by Paul M Calvert


  “The Emperor is always free to see you Ambassador and will meet you at your convenience in audience room three. No need to knock this time,” referring to another of Gallagher’s foibles. Whilst talking to him, as a courtesy Vimes was also downloading details of the quickest route to the Emperor into Gallagher’s interface.

  Following the directions, Gallagher and his aide arrived at a transit tube and entered the waiting pod, which, following another neural command from the Ambassador, headed off for the flagship’s Imperial quarters and command level. These tubes ran the full length, width and depth of the flagship, ensuring no part of the vessel was more than a few minutes’ travel time away from another. The ships A.I. ensured that, with few exceptions, a travel tube was always available at all of the key access points around the vast ship. It read the personal preferences of the pods occupants and matched acceleration and G-tolerances accordingly. Although not strictly necessary, the walls of the travel tubes indicated the direction of travel by way of lighting that moved along the walls, useful in avoiding disorientation when the direction of travel changed.

  After sixty seconds travel time, the pod arrived and they both exited. For security purposes, they presented neural and physical ID’s to both the human and automated sentries on duty, before passing through into the Imperial suite and command level. Although the travel pod had already checked their identities upon entering the pod and confirming destination, the Imperial Navy always preferred to have human back-ups, especially where security was concerned.

  Turning to his aide and looking him in the eyes, Gallagher spoke, “Get yourself a coffee and wait for me in reception until I call for you. I’m not sure how long this will take so you might as well make yourself comfortable.”

  Gallagher smiled inside as he caught Collinson's’ eyes flitting for a moment to his case before saluting and moving off.

  Dauntless’ AI had routed their travel pod to the exit nearest to the Emperors current location, so it was only a short walk through the brightly lit and vaulted corridor before he reached the door to audience room three. As befitted the Imperial quarters of the flagship, numerous works of art were strategically placed along the corridors, many of them famous or of historical significance. Interspersed amongst the paintings and small sculptures were numerous life-sized statues of famous historical figures, some of whom Gallagher recognised. With access to the finest works of over four thousand planets, the Imperial family had plenty to choose from. Whilst the paintings couldn’t be faulted, he wondered about the Emperors taste and seeming fondness for statuary.

  Although there were no obvious light sources, the corridors and public places were well lit and designed to give the impression of airiness. If requested, private quarters on the flagship could be illuminated according to personal taste, allowing occupants to match the light given off from their home star.

  On reaching the private audience room reserved by the Emperor for his friends or intimate gatherings, Gallagher stood for a moment in front of the door. Lifting his arm to knock, he hesitated for a split second, remembering the comment Vimes had made earlier, then knocked sharply on the door anyway.

  Although he knew Vimes had already detected his approach and had no doubt informed the Emperor of his arrival, Gallagher always preferred to knock and did so this time just to make a point to Vimes. In his many years of Imperial service, he’d had numerous conversations with Vimes and for the second time that day was prepared to stake his Dukedom on the aide being fully sentient.

  The door opened silently and he stepped in. Inside, the clean, fresh smell of the room gently tickled his nose for a moment, reminding him of a summer’s morning at the Capital. As with the lighting, individual areas of the ship could have their atmospheres customised. This could be useful in identifying where you were or as a way of reflecting the personality of the room’s owner. In times of alert, scents could be changed by the AI to provide stimulus or focus minds.

  The audience room was well lit. Décor was simple, currently just an old wood-effect smart-metal desk and several comfortable armchairs set up in a semi-circle against one of the walls. Above them, a large wall screen was currently displaying a life-like, real-time projection of the blue-green planet below.

  Alexander II, Emperor of four thousand and fifty-two worlds, descended from the first Emperor Josef through a direct line of an almost similar number of years, was striding across the room towards him with arms outstretched in greeting. The two old friends embraced warmly, with no hint of formality between them.

  The Emperor was an imposing man, almost six foot six inches tall when barefoot, with the obligatory broad shoulders and slim hips expected of heroic figures. Like the majority of Navy Veterans, his head was shaved close to the skull, but unlike Gallagher, his uniform was plain to the point of being utilitarian, especially as it was currently devoid of any military honours.

  “Good to see you, old friend,” Alexander said with a wide smile, “I really do appreciate your taking the time to personally oversee the Accession arrangements for me. I promise this will be the last time…or at least until the next protected planet develops space flight”.

  Alexander looked at the planet's image. “Once the ceremony is over, as a thank you, I’ll instruct one of my personal yachts to take you back home. It will be significantly faster than your having to wait for one of the regular shuttles or staying around until we get back to Capital”.

  “Thank you, Alex, I appreciate that,” responded Gallagher. “Excluding travel time I’ve been here over three months now making the arrangements, appearing on their information and entertainment channels explaining how the Empire works and the benefits of joining, addressing their world council, smoothing ruffled feathers etc. It’s been quite tiring. Now I just want to get back to see my family. I’m almost an old man I’ll have you know, Alexander,” using the Emperor’s full name which he always did when wishing to make a point to him in private.

  Alexander gestured towards the seats, situated beneath a large wall screen, currently projecting a real-time image of Heaven. The two men walked over to them, each looking for a moment at the image of the planet before sitting, Gallagher waiting a second so Alexander could sit first.

  Before getting down to business, Alexander asked his friend if he would like some refreshment but the offer was declined. He knew Gallagher was going over in his mind how to present the information before beginning the briefing, so he sat quietly and waited for him to start.

  Gallagher looked again at the planet for a moment, collected his thoughts and addressed his friend and Emperor.

  “Everything checks out, Alex. I can find no evidence that they are anything other than what they seem to be and whilst their technological advancement over the past one hundred years has been remarkably rapid, it is within the upper decile of what we have seen on other worlds, and not totally unprecedented. They came to manned space flight late, having first set up a comprehensive network of unmanned satellites, which may indicate a cautious approach to risk. Economically they have a wide variety of trade goods to offer us, mainly works of art and high-end foodstuffs which will sell well in the Empire. Unusually for this stage of development, they already have just one global monotheistic religion and a unified world government, hence our offer of Stage Two membership. There are close ties between the two. Again there are precedents.” He paused for a moment before continuing.

  “Militarily they are very capable, with basic nuclear weapons integrated into a planetary based asteroid defence system. This is unprecedented and worthy of further study by our ethno-biologists. Politically, the governing world council provides effective leadership, in conjunction with their religious leaders. The last global conflict was fought seventy-odd years previously, lasted for eight years and was over religion. Since then they have been at peace.”

  “Physiology?” asked Alexander, interested in how closely they matched humans in the rest of his Empire.

  “They are human to within accep
table norms, obviously lacking most of the genetic improvements we have become familiar with over the millennia. For example, their lifespans are around eighty years, with the final thirty or so deteriorating in quality as they approach death, unlike ourselves where living beyond two hundred isn’t unknown and we remain healthy and capable with few signs of aging until our final year or so.”

  “Our medical assistance should prove popular then,” Alexander replied, “How did they react when told of the Alexander Doctrines?”

  “The conditions of the Doctrine have been accepted and they are, on the face of it, eager to join us with Class Two membership,” said Gallagher.

  “Why did you end with “on the face of it”? Or are you just being political with me?” asked the Emperor, giving his friend a very pointed look. “Out with it Patrick.”

  Before speaking, Gallagher looked down at the floor for a moment, then up and out at the planet. The cyclone had grown larger and the terminator line between night and day was clearly visible now, signalling that morning was due shortly at the signing ceremony scheduled to begin in earnest at first light. Gallagher would be returning there once he had finished his report and final preparations were completed.

  “Two things. Firstly, it’s been almost two hundred years since an accession candidate skipped Class Three and was admitted straight as a Class Two. Whilst I can find nothing untoward, my uneasy “bump” is telling me we need to proceed with caution. Nothing I can pin down, however. Secondly, I don’t think it’s a wise move for both you and the Prince to travel down together for the ceremony. You have never done this before and I question whether it’s worth the risk. The Prince can watch proceedings from here and join us for the after event celebrations which should interest him more, that is assuming that he can be bothered. He’s never shown any interest in Ceremonial duties before and I’m worried that he will say something out of turn. He has inherited his father’s bluntness after all”.

  The Emperor raised his left eyebrow and sighing, gave his old friend a long, hard look before answering.

  “You’re right, of course, Patrick. There is a chance he’ll say something wrong, but both his mother and I agree it’s time for him to start acting like the Crown Prince, rather than some wastrel son of a minor Duke that expects everything on a plate. It’s been difficult these past fifteen years, as we both know. Constant border incursions with the Silures and other emerging human and reptilian empires have meant that I’ve been absent for most of his formative years. Christine has done her best, but those two invariably end up clashing heads despite her best efforts. No, it’s time he started to earn the privileges and take on the responsibilities that come with his position. Starting today, at this ceremony.” He went on, “As for your “uneasy bump,” it’s not always proved accurate and unless you can provide me with something more definitive, the ceremony and Ascension will go ahead today. Do you have anything?”

  “No Alex, I don’t. But be careful anyway.”

  Sensing that his friend and Emperor had already made up his mind and therefore this wasn’t one of those times to argue otherwise, Gallagher kept his peace, moving on to more mundane topics. They sat chatting for some time, covering various items of interest on the planet and how it might benefit the Empire, alongside more personal details of how their respective families were doing.

  After a time, the Emperor finally stood and looked at his friend, extending a hand to signal that the briefing was over.

  “Once you’ve sent your final report I’ll get Vimes to précis the finer detail for me and will make sure the relevant sections are downloaded to all the ground troops we have accompanying us this morning. Now go and freshen up before we leave.”

  He sighed whilst rubbing his head, “Another planet to learn everything about and remember. As if I don’t have enough already”.

  “Rather you than me Alex”, replied Gallagher, smiling, “I’ll see you in the hanger with the Crown Prince before we board”.

  With that, the two men parted, each heading for a separate exit, Gallagher to reception where he would pick up Collinson and the Emperor to deal with other matters of State.

  Once the room was empty, the ever watchful AI closed down the wall screen and switched off the lights.

  Scene 2, Fl. Lt. Harris

  After updating her flight log, Fl. Lt. Harris had only just arrived at her quarters to change and was sitting in her vacuum under-suite, trying unsuccessfully to remove her last boot, when new departure orders were sent to her via the ships AI.

  “Damn,” she said after reading that the instructions were to co-pilot down to the planet one of the three military shuttles that she’d seen being prepped in the main hanger bay. Whilst a little annoyed she would have to put off her down time, Harris was pleased and not a little flattered, to be given the chance of co-piloting one of the large shuttles, perhaps even the one carrying the Emperor himself. Unbidden, an image of the red cloaked Ambassador popped into her mind and she wondered if he’d had anything to do with this new and unexpected assignment.

  Now with not much time before she would need to begin pre-flight inspections, she headed for the shower cubicle, hopping on one foot whilst trying to peel off her leg the skin tight vacuum suit that all pilots wore under their flight uniforms. These light grey customised suits protected the body from vacuum exposure, and would function as an emergency spacesuit. In the event of explosive decompression, the integral smart-metal collars and cuffs would morph into a temporary helmet and gloves, sealing the suit. In such an emergency, the suit would recycle the air and keep her alive for at least an hour.

  She hated being measured for the vacuum suits as they needed to be fitted so they moulded to every part of her body and Harris always found the process too intimate for her liking. To ensure fittings were kept to a minimum, she constantly watched her figure and weight.

  Shuddering slightly as she remembered the touch of the machinery on her naked body she laughed at herself for being so prudish.

  “I suppose that comes from being brought up on a colony world that was very protective of their women,” she thought to herself. Her five years in the egalitarian meritocracy that was the Imperial Navy, which made few concessions towards either sex or beliefs, still hadn’t completely cancelled out her upbringing.

  She caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom’s full-length mirror and couldn’t resist taking stock for an instant. What she saw met with her approval. Regulation short brown hair, coffee coloured skin, a firm, well-muscled body and an attractive face looked back confidently at her from the mirror.

  The shower came on as she stepped in, adjusting itself automatically to her preferences and she spent a few moments luxuriating in the slightly perfumed water before soaping herself vigorously to feel totally human again. She preferred a citrus aroma as it always left her feeling refreshed yet was still feminine enough for her taste.

  Stepping out of the shower and towelling herself dry, she picked up the discarded flight suit, dropped it into the laundry chute and reached for one of the clean ones hanging in her wardrobe. She wriggled into it and ran a diagnostic, then put on a fresh flight uniform, taking only a few minutes. She attached her sidearm, which was coded only for her and automatically disarmed whilst off duty, checked her reflection for any stray lint or other marks and headed out the door, back the way she’d come earlier.

  Next to the main hanger, in a large ready room decorated with friezes and murals of past battles, three hundred of the Emperors Marine bodyguard were assembled, awaiting final orders to embark. Veterans all, they were lightly armoured for the ceremony and dressed more for show than actual combat, reflecting today's ceremonial role. Even so, despite the removal of much of their regular armament, individually they remained very formidable. Their smart metal armour had been changed from the normal dull black to bright gold, with the Imperial Sigel set out boldly on their plastrons. Close quarter combat shields hung on the back of their carapaces. The Marines milled around, looki
ng similar to ancient armoured knights of old, except these moved with both silence and grace.

  The AI had set the room’s gravity and atmosphere to the planetary norm, giving them the chance to acclimatise and calibrate their equipment before embarking. A change in gravitational pull that hadn't been calibrated into their weapons systems invariably meant that the first shot fired would miss before the weapon could compensate.

  Three Master Sergeants each stood at ease at the head of their respective Cohorts, monitoring progress via the telemetry of their command suits. None of the veterans were showing any signs of undue stress, just normal elevated levels of anticipation. Whilst the Sergeants had the option of administering combat drugs remotely should they be required, it wasn't necessary for these troops. Although the armoured suits were self-monitoring and reported any problems both to the wearer and command staff, it remained good practice for the troops to visually check each other's gear, so they milled around checking on their buddies. Relying too much on technology, no matter how good or modern was not something a Marine ever did if they wanted to become a veteran.

  Captain Stuart-Jack, SJ to his friends, sent out a general heads-up and transmitted the latest set of instructions to his assembled troops, with more specific information going directly to the Sergeants. SJ was not a happy man right now. Tall, well-muscled and short, black hair, he had a genetic tendency to portliness that only strenuous workouts in the gym kept at bay. SJ was well aware that the Crown Prince was supposed to have been with them half an hour ago and all enquiries he’d made to the Princes personal AI as to when he would be joining had been politely shunted away, leaving him hoping the Emperors son would make an entrance alongside his father. If not, the fireworks that followed wouldn't be pleasant and potentially embarrassing for the Emperor.

 

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