Imperium Chronicles Box Set

by W. H. Mitchell

  The minister pulled at his chin, thinking deeply. After a long pause, he said, “Someone or something is pulling their strings.”

  “Indeed,” Gul replied eagerly. “The K’thonians appear to be thralls of some sort, under the influence of some greater power.”

  “Obviously, the most important question is whether this poses a threat to our interests...”

  “It’s still too soon to tell, Minister.”

  After another pause, “Fine work, Judicator,” the minister said. “You have impressed us yet again. I assure you, the Supremacy has not overlooked your achievements.”

  Gul bowed slightly. “Thank you.”

  “You may go,” the minister said, waving toward the doors that were opening as he spoke.

  The yacht of the Veber family reflected much of Lady Veber’s own aesthetics. Unlike most starships, which featured metal walls and technology on constant display, the yacht’s interior was more like the estate on Lokeren. The walls were painted in shades of white and pale blues. Ceramic tiles, decorated with the family’s scallop motif, lined doorways and corridors. In Lady Veber’s stateroom, where her style was most apparent, bare bulkheads were covered with paintings and lavish tapestries.

  Resting comfortably on a chaise lounge, Lady Veber was deep in thought. With a start, she roused herself, blinking several times.

  “Computer,” she said, “call Lord Maycare’s estate on Aldorus.”

  “Yes, My Lady,” the computer responded.

  One of the walls of the stateroom flickered and the larger-than-life face of Maycare’s butlerbot appeared. Lady Veber wondered why he kept such an old model.

  “My Lady,” Bentley said. “Good to see you again.”

  “I want to talk to Devlin,” Veber replied. “Is he available or has he gone gallivanting off somewhere?”

  “No, he’s here at present. Let me get him for you.”

  After several minutes, Lord Maycare appeared on the screen. His hair looked as if someone had tried, unsuccessfully, to comb a rat’s nest with a rake. Also, an unkempt beard covered much of his face. The gray strands in the beard made him look older than Lady Veber had ever seen him.

  “Good god, man!” she cried. “Have you been kidnapped?”

  Maycare, clearing his throat, tried to mat down his unruly hair. “No.”

  “Are you ill?” Veber asked more calmly.

  “Actually, I’ve been hard at work researching your son’s condition.”

  “Researching? Don’t you have people for that?”

  “Well,” Maycare replied, his eyes lowering, “there’s been some employee turnover...”

  Lady Veber huffed in exasperation.

  “Listen, Devlin,” she said, “Philip is getting worse by the day. I need you to find something — anything — that could help.”

  “I understand.”

  “I’m heading to Aldorus now—”

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” she replied, “I have some unfinished business in Regalis, but I’ll only be there a short time before returning home. It’s important that you’ve made some progress before I do.”

  “Yes, Becca.”

  “I’m counting on you, Devlin!”

  Maycare nodded. “Understood.”

  The screen went blank, returning the stateroom wall to its original appearance. Lady Veber pulled herself off the chaise lounge and left her quarters with a sense of determination in her stride. Taking a lift to a different deck, one less fancy than the one she had left, Veber stopped at a metal door and placed her hand against a palm sensor. The door slid open. Inside, Magnus Black sat on a bed, looking out the window.

  “It’s a better view than a prison cell,” Veber said.

  Lady Nasri found herself eating cookies and drinking tea with Lord Tagus II in his West End estate. The room, with its Victorian style and blazing fireplace, was the same as last time, but the circumstances were vastly different. The old man took a sip and placed his cup on the coffee table in front of the large couch they both shared.

  “This was not exactly what I had in mind,” he said.

  “In what way?” she replied.

  “One doesn’t usually kill the head of a royal household.”

  “I told you,” Nasri insisted, “I had nothing to do with it!”

  One of his bony shoulders, beneath his well-worn, black and yellow tunic, rose in a feeble shrug.

  “You must admit,” he continued, “the timing of his death was not ideal. It has raised a good many questions, most of them shouted rather loudly.”

  “The hysteria of the general public means nothing. The truth remains that I am innocent!”

  “I hope that’s true, Lady Nasri. The consequences otherwise...”

  Sitting in silence, Tagus took another cookie and, taking a bite, chewed laboriously. Hearing the slow, crunching sounds coming from the old man made Nasri cringe. She focused on the flames in the fireplace.

  “On the other hand,” Tagus said finally, “without an heir, the House of Santos is no more and we’re left with six families instead of seven.”

  “Is that a good thing?” Nasri asked.

  “Well,” he replied, “there’s no one to break a tie if the families find themselves evenly split.”

  “I suppose a stalemate is better than losing.”

  “Rightly so.”

  A butlerbot came to the room, apologizing for the intrusion.

  “What is it?” Tagus asked.

  “Lady Veber is here to see you,” the robot said.

  Nasri felt herself turning red, but hoped the dimly lit room would keep her secret.

  “Well, send her in obviously,” Tagus replied.

  Lady Veber swept through the doorway in a well-tailored gown.

  A bit overdressed, Nasri thought.

  “What a pleasure to see you,” Tagus said, standing momentarily until Veber took a seat in the chair across from the couch. “Would you like some tea?”

  “No, thank you,” Veber replied, her mouth in a tight smile.

  “What brings you here?” the old man asked.

  “I wanted to talk to you about the death of Lord Santos,” she replied, glancing at Nasri beside him on the sofa.

  “As I explained to Lord Tagus,” Nasri spoke up, “I don’t know who killed Andre and I’m just as upset as anyone about what happened.”

  “There’s a great many people upset, actually,” Veber said. “VOX News won’t stop talking about it.”

  “It’s troubling,” Tagus agreed, “but what can be done? Do you have any leads as to who might have been involved?”

  “As a matter of fact,” Veber said, leaning in, “I do.”

  From a shadow in the corner of the room, a figure appeared. He was dressed in black with hair shaved close to the scalp. The light from the fire danced along the features of his face.

  Lady Nasri gasped while Lord Tagus merely surveyed him with detached interest.

  “A friend of yours?” Tagus asked, turning to Lady Veber.

  “Not exactly,” Veber replied. “His name is Magnus Black.”

  “He must be very skilled to get past my security undetected,” Tagus remarked.

  Nasri took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure. “What’s this about?”

  “It’s partially about you, my dear,” Veber replied.

  “How? I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

  “Actually, he’s the man who killed Lord Santos,” Veber said.

  “Then arrest him!” Nasri shouted.

  “I was going to,” Veber went on, “but it occurred to me that I might have a different use for him.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that...” Tagus said.

  “You see, with Lord Santos gone,” Veber went on, “the families are evenly divided. As you pointed out, Lady Nasri, with the seven families my own house’s influence was weaker and now with six, that’s even more true.”

  “I’m calling the police,” Nasri said, but as she tr
ied to stand, her legs no longer responded. “What have you done?”

  “If something happened to you, my dear,” Veber said calmly, “My family’s place would return to its former importance.”

  “My hands,” Nasri said. “I can’t feel them.”

  “Mr. Black has been kind enough to poison you,” Veber said.

  “How?” Tagus asked.

  “In the food,” Veber replied.

  “Highly unlikely,” Tagus remarked skeptically. “Everything I eat is carefully scanned.”

  “I used a binary poison in the cookies and the tea,” Magnus spoke for the first time. “Separately they’re completely inert, but combined together they become quite toxic.”

  “Why in heaven’s name would you poison me too?” Tagus asked angrily.

  “I felt that poison would be appropriate,” Veber replied, “since that’s what you gave my son.”

  Lord Tagus coughed, the spittle on his hands a dark red. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

  “On the contrary,” Veber said coldly, glaring at the Tagus patriarch. “It made perfect sense once I realized it. You resented that I broke the tie that made Hector Augustus the new emperor instead of you. Of course, you weren’t foolish enough to attack me directly. Killing the head of a royal household would be too dangerous, so instead you went after my son.”

  “This is madness,” Tagus said. “There must be an antidote...”

  “I’m afraid not,” Magnus replied.

  Turning to Lady Veber, Tagus struggled to raise his hand toward her. “I’ll give you whatever you want, I swear!”

  “Dying will suffice,” Veber replied.

  The old man fell off the couch while Lady Nasri slumped against the cushions. Barely able to keep her head upright, she stared at Lady Veber through a darkening haze. Veber stood, joined by Magnus Black beside her. As she died, Nasri watched them walk away, fading into a blanket of flickering gauze.

  Jessica Doric read the rejection notice on her datapad. Since quitting her job with the Maycare Institute of Xeno Studies, Doric had applied to a number of other institutions, from colleges to private research organizations. She even tried getting her old job back as a professor at the University of Regalis, but the dean felt Doric’s time with Devlin Maycare had tainted her academic credentials. In the back of her mind, she considered the idea of working for Warlock Industries, but quickly discarded the possibility, in part because they had tried to kill her at least twice.

  Just off the hallway to Doric’s bedroom, a pile of dirty clothes was slowly ripening. Unwashed dishes filled the sink while a few others lay about the apartment in strategic locations. Books were also scattered across the living room floor. Doric felt compelled to research the Necronea, her professional and personal curiosity gnawing at her mind at all hours of the night. Sleeping had become a luxury, as well as bathing and most other forms of hygiene. None of the sources available to her, including articles on the nodesphere, could give Doric the detailed answers she was looking for. With bitter irony, she realized the truly useful bits of information were stored in Maycare’s own private library. She could think of at least a dozen books that currently lay out of reach.

  Sitting on the couch, she felt a vibration beneath her. Leaning to one side, she pulled her phone from under her leg and saw Lord Maycare’s picture, framed in dramatic profile, on the screen.

  Shit, she thought.

  Knowing she hadn’t washed her hair in nearly a week, she answered with voice only. “Hello?”

  “Jess!” Maycare shouted, as if not seeing her meant he had to talk louder. “Are you there?”

  “Yes,” Doric replied in a normal tone. “Stop shouting.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “Why aren’t you on vidcam?”

  “I don’t feel like seeing you right now.”

  “Ah, don’t be like that, Jess! I wanted to show you something.”

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  “I’m downstairs,” he replied, “in front of your building.”

  “I’m pretty busy...”

  “Come on!” Maycare pleaded. “Give me a chance...”

  Doric sighed, running her fingers through her hard, brittle hair.

  “Okay,” she said. “Give me a minute.”

  Half an hour later, Doric appeared at the entrance to her apartment building. She was dressed and showered and wore something from the back of her closet, a gray dress with brown street shoes. Outside the main doors, Maycare was standing beside a shiny blue gravcar. Shaved and dapper as usual, he was dressed in a nice suit and tie. She joined him outside.

  “Jess!” he said and waved his hand over the hood of the car. “How do you like it?”

  Doric scrutinized the vehicle doubtfully and then did the same to Maycare. “It’s okay.”

  “It’s brand new!” he went on excitedly.

  “So, you bought another car? Is that what you wanted me to see?”

  “No, Jess,” he shook his head. “I bought you a new car!”

  “What?”

  “I wanted to apologize about how terrible I’ve been acting and beg for your forgiveness.”

  “So, you bought me a car?”

  “Well,” Maycare said, “I wanted to buy you flowers—”

  “I like flowers...”

  “—but Bentley said that would be inappropriate.”

  “Remind me to thank him.”

  “I thought a car would be better anyway. I mean, you could use it for work...”

  “Hold on,” Doric said. “Who said I wanted to go back to working for you?”

  Maycare’s chin, normally square and facing skyward, sank abruptly. Doric’s eyebrows rose.

  “Don’t you like the color?” he asked.

  Blue was her favorite color actually, but she wasn’t about to mention that.

  “I don’t need a car,” she said. “What I want is your respect.”

  “I do respect you!” he said.

  “I don’t believe it.”

  Maycare came out from behind the gravcar and grabbed Doric by the shoulders. She shrunk back, or attempted to, but Maycare’s hold was tight and unrelenting.

  “Of course I respect you,” he said. “I’m lost without you, Jess. I’m just too pigheaded to realize it sometimes!”

  “This is also inappropriate by the way,” she muttered.

  Maycare released her immediately and took a step back. “Sorry.”

  “Alright, Lord Maycare,” she said. “I’ll go back to work for you.”

  “Really? That’s wonderful!” he replied. “What about the gravcar? Should I take it back?”

  “Oh, no,” she said firmly. “I’m keeping the car.”

  Dr. Sprouse followed a corridor through the bowels of Warlock headquarters. She stopped at an unmarked door and knocked. From within, a man’s voice spoke. “Come in!”

  The doctor closed the door behind her once inside a long, narrow room with no windows. At the other end, a man with a hairless, throbbing head leaned over a workbench.

  “Good evening, Dr. Sprouse,” Lars Hatcher said without looking up.

  “It’s morning, actually,” she replied, stopping just behind his chair. On the bench, an ancient book with burned pages lay beside several instruments. “How’s it going?”

  Lars sat up, as if studying the question in his mind. Dr. Sprouse wondered if he was, in fact, studying her mind instead.

  “No,” Lars said. “I’m not reading your mind.”

  “Clearly.”

  “I meant,” Lars admitted, “not at first.”

  The doctor put her hand on the metamind’s shoulder as she leaned past him to get a better view of the tome. “The craftsmanship is amazing. The cover material looks odd though...”

  “It’s someone’s skin.”

  “Anyone I know?”

  “Not unless you knew someone from a hundred thousand years ago.”

  “Hmm,” she murmured. “You’re sure it’s that old?”

  Lars pointed a
t some of the pages, the edges singed to a crisp.

  “Carbon dating shows the latter pages are slightly more recent, but overall,” he said, “it’s a very old book.”

  “Any idea where it came from?” Dr. Sprouse asked.

  “Outside the Imperium. Perhaps beyond the Talion Republic.”

  “How did it get here then?”

  A thick blood vessel in Lars’ head pulsated. The doctor instinctively pulled her hand off his shoulder.

  “Difficult to say,” Lars replied. “Many parts of the Talion Republic were looted by Imperial forces after the end of the last war with the Magna Supremacy. We wanted to punish the Tals for supporting the Magna and apparently, taking their art treasures was part of that. On the other hand, it could have been smugglers.”

  Dr. Sprouse crossed her arms. “Skarlander will want facts, not speculation.”

  Lars, for the first time, turned his eyes to look at her. “I know.”

  As if by magic, a book lifted off a neighboring shelf and floated across the room until landing on the table. Cracking it open, Lars flipped through several pages until finding the spot he was searching for.

  “This is a book in High Dahlvish,” Lars said, pointing to a paragraph of intricate script. “It talks about a psionic ability the Dahl use to travel great distances with only their minds.”

  “Like a transmat?”

  “Not exactly,” Lars said. “They don’t actually travel physically. They project an ethereal image of themselves instead.”

  “Does the other book talk about the same thing?” Dr. Sprouse asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Lars replied. “After piecing together the burnt page fragments, I’m beginning to think the book allows the user to travel, but it’s unclear how. Perhaps using a portal of some sort.”

  “If we could understand the method,” Dr. Sprouse said, “it could revolutionize how we travel between planets...”

  Lars nodded.

  “I’ll need more of these books before that can happen,” he said.

  “Then let’s get you more books,” the doctor replied.

  The Veber family yacht settled into orbit above Lokeren. Standing on the transmat pad aboard her ship, Lady Veber was thankful to be home again. No longer needed, Magnus Black had already left, returning to the Starling.