Empire's End: Episode 4: The Real Sin

by JP Raymond

  “That’s great for you, Jim,” JaQuan nearly shouted. “What about me? What about everyone else aboard? We’re all just trying to make a living here. We didn’t want to be involved in your insane politics.”

  “You think the other people on this ship are innocent?” Brody said with a laugh. “Damn, JaQuan, you’re more naïve than I thought. Kitekh Galesh isn’t apolitical. I’m not here by accident.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “Oh, come on, JaQuan. She’s told me the kidnapping is all over the news. She’s told me they’re branding her as a co-conspirator. If she knows, so do you. Stop walking around with your eyes closed.”

  “Kitekh would never conspire with you. She’d never be a part of a kidnapping scheme, and she’d certainly never involve herself with Manifest Destiny.”

  “Not willingly,” Brody said. “But that doesn’t mean she can’t be useful.”

  JaQuan seethed. He wanted to drop the energy screen, go into the bay, and start beating answers out of Brody.

  “Look,” JaQuan growled. “I’m tired of fucking around with you. I want to know why you decided to condemn everyone aboard this ship. I want to know what this is about.”

  “You know what?” Brody said, standing. He walked to the edge of the energy screen. “Ask her yourself. You won’t believe anything I tell you anyway. Go ask your Graur captain why I’m aboard her ship.

  “There’s a bigger game here, JaQuan. The Emperor’s dead. He was the only one who had the authority to make humans full citizens. I don’t know how they’ll end up replacing him, but you can bet that everyone with a stake in the future of the Empire is going to agitate for a guy who reflects their worldview. We need to make sure whoever succeeds Acquineen III is pro-human.

  “You want to see the human race survive, JaQuan? You want to make sure your kids and grandkids will have some kind of future? You better get involved. You can’t just accept things as they are and hope for the best.”

  JaQuan stared incredulously at him. Was he insane? Was he a simple zealot? Or did he know something JaQuan didn’t? Something important.

  “Why are you here, Jim? Why this ship?”

  Brody crossed his arms. He backed slowly towards his cot, a feral grin spreading across his face. He sat down.

  “Ask Kitekh,” he said.

  Then he lay back on this cot, folding his arms behind his head as before. He stared up at the ceiling and said nothing more.

  JaQuan wanted to throttle him. Brody’s presumption and arrogance infuriated him. JaQuan wanted to beat the smug smile right off his face. Instead, he turned and left.

  “See ya, JaQuan,” Brody called after him. “Nice talking with you.”

  JaQuan mustered enough will to resist the urge to go back and beat the smug bastard within an inch of his life. He had more questions now than when he came.

  Worse, Brody was right. It was time to talk to Kitekh.

  Gwen swore as another asteroid glanced off the cockpit of her ship. Fortunately, that one was small and didn’t even scratch the canopy. But the thunk! it made as it struck was loud enough to scare her half out of her skin.

  She had no time to worry about it further. Another asteroid – this one considerably larger – was bearing straight for her. She tapped controls on her board and pulled on the stick, trying to get above it.

  But it was coming too fast. Proximity alarms screeched at her, warning her of impending impact.

  Gwen held her breath as she furiously tapped further commands and pulled hard on the stick. Desperately, she attempted to roll her ship up to the right to avoid contact.

  The thing missed her by three inches.

  She exhaled and gulped in air, trying to steady her nerves. She swore the asteroids were actually targeting her. No natural field of space rocks moved like this. Those assholes in The Outpost control center must be operating them somehow, probably laughing at her as they tried to smash her into dust.

  God damn you, JaQuan, she thought. When I catch you, you are going to pay for this shit.

  If she caught him. First, she had to survive.

  She saw the next asteroid before her board warned her. Gwen adjusted her heading.

  But the damned thing was moving like a missile, rocketing at her with terrifying speed. It was only the size of the vintage Mazda Miata her brother had owned and adored back on Earth. But if it hit her at the velocity it was coming, it would do serious damage to her hull.

  Gwen adjusted her heading again, weaving between two large asteroids. The small one zigged around, putting her on a collision course .

  “Oh, to hell with you,” she said.

  She powered up her forward weapons and ordered the computer to target the thing.

  As her beamer cannon locked on, though, klaxons began screaming. She checked her board and saw a massive asteroid bearing down on her from above. Unable to resist the instinct, she looked up.

  The new threat was at least five times the size of her ship. If it hit her, it would smash the top of her vessel and send her careening through the belt. If the damage from the impact didn’t kill Gwen, whatever she hit next would.

  Trying hard not to panic, she fired her beamers once and then dove away from the monster at a sixty-degree angle. Her shot was on target. The small asteroid exploded.

  Collision alarms continued to sound. Gwen checked the position of the mammoth space rock. It continued its descent towards her. She increased her speed and steepened her dive. Her board indicated that heading should prevent the giant from hitting her.

  But still the alarms screamed their dire warning. She searched for the source of the danger. All she could see was one tiny rock, maybe the size of her head.

  Too late, she realized it was a fragment of the asteroid she’d blasted. Adjusting her course away from the giant had put her in its path.

  She tried to jink away from it, but there wasn’t enough time. With a terrific bang!, the asteroid sliver smashed into the rear of her ship.

  “Aft deflector screen projector destroyed,” the computer reported.

  Gwen practically vomited in relief. If it had been only a few feet lower, it would have struck her main engine. That could have been devastating. For the most part, she’d been lucky.

  But losing a deflector screen wasn’t good either. That would be difficult to repair without putting into port somewhere.

  At least it was a rear deflector screen. Anywhere else would have made confronting Cataan’s Claw complicated. With one of her rear screens down, she could simply make sure to always give them her face.

  Anger boiled up inside her. She still hadn’t made it out of the Horari Belt, and her ship was taking damage. She feared she might actually not escape.

  Damn you, JaQuan. If you fight me when I find you, I swear to God I am going to kill you.

  Idrib gripped the podium with both hands as he came to the climax of his speech before the Imperial Senate.

  “And so, fellow senators,” he thundered, “we must act. We must seize back control of the Empire before it completely tumbles into chaos. Already, we see the very fabric of our civilization fraying at the edges. The Space Rangers tell us crime has seen an uptick of seventeen percent since the Emperor died. In the farthest reaches of the galaxy, rumors suggest a rebellion is gestating, perhaps authored by the infidels in the Kwin Faan. And here in the heart of the Empire, terrorists are brazen enough to kidnap the children of government officials.”

  Numerous people muttered. What did they expect? Of course he mentioned Haneeta’s kidnapping. They would think him a robot if he had not.

  But he knew not to dwell on it. Emello was right about that. Idrib shifted his stance.

  “This is not who we are, my friends. We are a people of law, of order, of faith. We stand in the light of God’s purpose and bring his will to pass. We are no mob, ruled only by whim and violence. We are the children of the divine and bow to the holy might of our creator.

  “But we were not alway
s thus. There was a time before the Empire – a time of violence and chaos. The Three Races warred on one another, threatening to burn every world with the heat of a thousand stars. Only the emergence of the First Emperor ended this madness. He and his successors pushed back the darkness, preventing it from eclipsing our light from the universe. The Kwin Flaal tell us God demands an emperor to preserve his order on the galaxy. Who are we to argue with the divine will?

  “And so, my friends, this must be done. We must change our law to fill seats on the Council of Nine. With only five members currently, there is no quorum. I need not remind you this means a new emperor cannot be elected. With no emperor to name members of the Council and no quorum on the Council to elect an emperor, we are rudderless – a ship adrift in a storm. We must take charge of our destiny. We, the elected body of the people, must enact legislation that breaks this unique stalemate.

  “I know this proposal is unprecedented. Indeed, I understand only too well how it contradicts the foundation of our government. But I submit to you that these are unprecedented circumstances. If we do not adopt this extraordinary but reasonable legislation, then we have no government at all. Then the Empire has truly fallen. All that is left is chaos. I bid you to think of the needs of the future rather than the dictates of tradition.”

  Idrib fell silent. He cast an imperious gaze around the chamber, daring them to defy him. The traditionalists would, of course. Too entrenched in their need to preserve everything as it had always been, they would not be able to accept a simple solution.

  But the rest of the Senate was malleable. Haneeta’s kidnapping had frightened many of them to the depths of their stomachs. It was they, and those who sought compromise, to whom Idrib appealed.

  “You can’t fool us, Senator Mol,” someone cried. He cast his gaze around the chamber seeking the source. “This is madness, fueled by the unfortunate kidnapping of your daughter.”

  Idrib found a young Graur standing in the back of the room. He didn’t recognize the youth, but he appeared to be the most junior senator in the entire government. It figured. The young saw everything in the simplest of terms.

  A wave of angry reprimands washed towards the Graur senator. Officials from all around the chamber chided him for his brash and insensitive retort.

  Idrib raised a hand and smiled. The chatter quieted.

  “Madness, Senator?” he said.

  “Yes, madness,” the young Graur said. “You yourself note that only the divine wisdom of the Emperor can seat someone on the Council of Nine. Yet you propose we elect people to fill the vacant spots? No emperor they chose would be seen as legitimate.”

  “Hear-hear!” shouted numerous representatives. The young Graur had considerable support.

  Idrib frowned. These fools were going to need a lot of work.

  “Senator – What was your name?” Idrib asked.

  “Shekir,” the Graur said.

  “Senator Shekir,” Idrib said, “I am happy to debate the merits of my bill with you and anyone else who has concerns. But I will thank you to refrain from suggesting my motivation for introducing it is impure. I have served the Empire my entire adult life – first as a Keeper of the Faith and now as a member of the Senate. I will not have a cub impugning my honor.”

  The floor of the Senate chamber burst into shouting. Predictably Shekir snarled at Idrib as allies of both came to their defense. Senate Chancellor Idrak Sum banged his gavel repeatedly, but he was ignored.

  Idrib suppressed a smile. Graur were pathetically easy to bait. Call an adult a cub, and their fur would stand on end while they gnashed their teeth, screaming for a fight. Their honor was so flimsily guarded, so easy to offend. And the vast majority of them lacked the sense to understand it only hurt them socially. Only the most venerable Graur had survived enough of these honor battles to recognize they were stupid and costly. As a whole, the felinoids were a dimwitted race – barely civilized and really only good as soldiers.

  Shekir hurled epithets at Idrib in both Imperial and his native Graul. In less than a minute, everyone but other Graur had abandoned him. Idrib wanted to laugh. Youthful impetuousness and Graur blood were a tragic and ineffectual combination.

  “Please,” Idrib said quietly.

  He spoke into the microphone, so he could be heard, but he kept his tone soft enough that others would have to cease speaking to hear him. Once again, he got the reaction he was looking for. The Senate chamber slowly came to order.

  “Please,” he said again. “Let us not give into our base urges. This is the very chaos our enemies seek to sow. We must resist.”

  The last murmurs died away. Heads bobbed in agreement around the room. Idrib had them.

  “I feel I should answer Senator Shekir’s charge,” Idrib said. “This is not about my daughter. I was already working on this legislation when she was taken. I do not believe the two events are related in any way. Manifest Destiny’s demands for her safe return are for me to cease opposing humanity’s citizenship bid. This legislation has nothing to do with that. Indeed, it could only help humankind. The only person who can declare them the Fourth Race is the Emperor. Thus, until Acquineen III’s successor is named, humanity remains in limbo.

  “But the fear and instability organizations like Manifest Destiny foment cannot stand. It is this evil I oppose, and it is the order that an emperor will bring that I support.

  “My friends, we must have an emperor. Someone must choose whom it will be. Our laws designate a body to perform that task. It is our obligation to see that it can.

  “We are elected representatives of the people of the Empire. They voted for us to make law and be their voice. We must fulfill our oaths and give them the Empire they deserve – one with a strong emperor who will rule justly.”

  Idrib fell silent. He cast his gaze around the chamber again. Senators of all Three Races nodded thoughtfully at his words. Yes. It was going to work.

  “Senator Mol,” someone said.

  He turned to see a Mandran female standing. He knew her at once – Mortiela Boow. His heart sank. Senator Boow was worse than most of her race, over-contemplating even the simplest of things – like the color of the sky. She was going to be trouble.

  “Yes, Senator,” he replied.

  “I concede that something must be done,” she said. “With no emperor and no quorum on the Council of Nine, we have no government. We, the Imperial Senate, can make all the laws we like, but without an emperor to approve and validate them, they have no authority.

  “And that is just the problem here. You propose we pass legislation to fill the vacant seats, but how can the law be instated?

  “Furthermore, even if we were to waive the necessity of the Emperor’s approval to accomplish naming a successor, you propose we elect four people to the Council of Nine. That’s nearly half the Council! How shall these individuals be chosen? What requirements should they fulfill? Must they be from particular worlds? From particular races? What criteria are we to use to determine who best can name an emperor?”

  Another argument swept the chamber. Idrib closed his eyes in frustration. This was what they had been doing for months – arguing over minutiae and pontificating on procedure.

  He needed some greater act to shock them into action. He’d hoped Haneeta’s kidnapping would do it. But they seemed incapable of seeing the danger to themselves in her sacrifice. He’d had them for a moment, had them listening to sense.

  But now they were debating again. The irritating Mandran had eviscerated his master plan. He needed some way to recover. He needed an answer.

  JaQuan found Kitekh on the bridge. She sat in the command chair, reading her board and occasionally tapping commands. Cooressa was bent over the comms station, running reports.

  “Kitekh, we need to talk,” JaQuan said as he entered.

  “I thought you were helping Lanaliel repair the hyperdrive,” she replied without looking up.

  “I installed the Myollnar Crystal. Lanaliel rebooted the drive a
nd is working on bringing all its systems online.”

  “Then what do we need to talk about?” she asked.

  “I want to know what the deal is between you and Senator Mol.”

  Kitekh looked at him for the first time. She said nothing. Her green-eyed gaze crawled over JaQuan, searching for a motive. He crossed his arms and stood implacably before her, refusing to back off his request.

  Cooressa, too, had stopped working. Her hand paused next to her board as she waited to hear what Kitekh would say.

  “That’s none of your business, JaQuan,” the captain said.

  “The hell it ain’t!” JaQuan retorted. “I’ve nearly been killed twice since we left Daxal – once when you ordered us to run from those Imperial battlecruisers and again on Sigba Station when Rorgun’s ‘old friend’ forced us to perform a hit for him in exchange for the crystal I just installed.

  “The news claims you’re involved with Brody’s kidnapping plot because you want revenge on Senator Mol. When I questioned Brody a few minutes ago, he told me to ask you why he chose this ship for his insanity.

  “So, I’m asking, Kitekh. You thought I’d brought Brody aboard to sabotage you. You threatened to kill me. So what the fuck is going on, Kitekh? What’s your damage with Senator Mol. Why is Brody here with the senator’s kidnapped daughter in cryo-storage?”

  She continued to stare at him. Fire burned in her eyes, but JaQuan couldn’t tell if she was angry over what had happened or JaQuan asking about it.

  “I’m the captain of this ship, JaQuan,” she said at last. “I don’t have to explain myself to you or anyone else.”

  “Fuck you, Kitekh!” he shouted. “Don’t feed me that bullshit! Your decisions affect the lives of every one of us. And right now, we’re on the run with no place to go. Everyone aboard is now wanted for a capital crime. No one but Brody had anything to do with the kidnapping, but he chose this ship because of you. Don’t hand me that ‘captain’s privilege’ shit. I want to know why we’re all wanted for terrorism. You owe me an explanation.”