by Eric Thomson
She stood, imitated by everyone else present, and left the room with Logran and Hecht on her tail.
Once the governor was gone, a tidal wave of voices made hearing any individual almost impossible. Reyes tried to attract Morane’s attention as she pushed her way around the table through the crush of fellow representatives eager to leave, hoping she might intercept Morane. But it proved to be in vain. Major Kayne quickly ushered him, DeCarde and Gwenneth through the nearest door and down the steps where his staff skimmer waited.
As they sped off toward the depot, Kayne asked, “Permission to speak, Captain?”
“Certainly. What’s on your mind?”
“You spoke of merging the colonial militia with the 6th Battalion. May I ask what you mean by that?” He sounded wary, but his eyes showed a spark of curiosity.
“Certainly. If Lyonesse is to create armed services, they’ll need a unified command structure. And under that principle, if Lyonesse is to create a ground defense force, it too will need a unified structure, unified recruiting and training systems, standardized techniques, tactics, and procedures, organization, etcetera. There can’t be a 6th of the 21st existing apart from the Lyonesse Colonial Militia. Don’t you agree?”
Kayne seemed to hesitate before nodding.
“Makes sense.”
“Good. Then perhaps you and Colonel DeCarde can put your Marine Corps heads together and come up with how it should be done. I wouldn’t presume to interfere with matters I barely understand.”
DeCarde and Kayne exchanged glances.
“Will do, sir. How soon would you like proposals?”
“No need to come up with an answer today.” Morane smiled. “Tomorrow will do. Or the day after if you need more time.”
When neither spoke, he said, “I was speaking in jest. Take a few days, sound out your command teams, wargame tables of organization and equipment. That sort of thing.”
“Blank slate?” DeCarde asked.
“Sure. Why not? We won’t see an inspector general from Fleet HQ show up any time soon, or ever. If we can invent a better way of doing things, unhampered by centuries of ossified tradition…”
“So basically,” Kayne dragged out the words as he parsed Morane’s order, “you want the colonel and me to invent our own organizational paradigm.”
DeCarde gave him a broad grin.
“Yep. And please call me Brigid. Since we’re about to be joined at the hip, there’s no point of standing on ceremony. At least not in private.”
Morane studied Kayne for a few heartbeats.
“I’ll go out on a limb here, Matti, since we’ve not yet discussed the whole defense force structure with Governor Yakin, but as senior officer on Lyonesse, I’m promoting you to lieutenant colonel effective immediately. Considering the size of your command, it seems only right.”
Kayne’s eyes went from DeCarde to Morane and back.
“Thanks. I think. Our situation’s convoluted legalities or lack thereof are giving me a headache. A few days ago, I was running a sleepy colonial militia, an ersatz Guards unit with just enough capacity to block landing reivers long enough so civilians could run for the hills. Suddenly, my militia is being brigaded with a genuine Pathfinder battalion to form the nucleus of a proper defense force. All of it with zero authority from either Wyvern or Fleet HQ on Caledonia. Unreal. Just unreal.”
Morane chuckled.
“Hang on tight, Matti. It’s just the beginning. I want to make Lyonesse impregnable, an oasis of civilization able to repel the coming darkness.”
“So,” Kayne gave Morane a speculative look, “does that mean you’re to be our chief of defense staff?”
“If Governor Yakin wants me. And she would be commander-in-chief.”
“I think she probably will, sir. I’ve done my best to organize what I could when the 77th left, but I’m still a command sergeant at heart, an infantry platoon leader. We need someone who graduated from all the right schools to get us organized.”
DeCarde gave him a friendly nudge.
“I’m still an old sergeant at heart too, Matti. But we’re both lieutenant colonels now, each with our own battalion. We will not only make this work but by the time we’re done, it’ll be a thing of beauty, the finest little combat formation in known space.”
Morane gave them a mock blessing, then glanced at Gwenneth, who’d remained silent throughout the assembly.
“You seem rather tired, Sister.”
She lifted a face seamed with fatigue and gave him a wan smile.
“We monastics find crowds wearying. That’s partly why we join the Order, I suppose. You did well in there, Jonas. I should think we will see a groundswell of support build over the next few days as word gets out and people understand the full import of your words. I’d wager even now, transcripts and recordings are already circulating. Soon, everyone on Lyonesse will recognize your face.”
“From your lips to the Almighty’s ear, Sister. Well, perhaps not the recognition thing, but the Almighty is bound to listen more closely when one of his servants speaks.”
“You’d be surprised, Jonas.”
— 4 —
Mykonos
“You called for me, Excellency?”
Jorge Danton, governor general of the Mykonos system, turned away from the transparent aluminum doors leading to the gubernatorial palace’s second-floor balcony. He’d been watching his capital slowly fade into night under a gray sky that matched his mood. All too many parts of Petras remained dark, especially on the western edge, where the worst of the fighting took place before the remnants of the loyalist 91st Imperial Guards Regiment surrendered to his rebel forces.
“I just received orders from Viceroy Custis.”
“Ah. I was wondering why the urgent summons.”
A mocking grin tugged at Danton’s thick lips.
“Are you telling me the communication center’s duty officer didn’t alert you to the grand duke’s missive, Harvey? Standards must be slipping.”
General Harvey Marat waved Danton’s comment aside with an amused air.
“Of course he called and told me about the message. But sensibly, he kept the contents to himself. Offering to read your mail, now that would prove standards are slipping.”
“And you didn’t ask?”
“I knew you’d tell me soon enough, sir. Orders from Yotai always seem to involve my command these days. It’s the nature of the times in which we live.”
Danton studied the Mykonos system’s senior military officer with undisguised, though partially feigned suspicion.
“If I didn’t know better, I might think you were mocking me.”
“Perish the thought, sir. I saw your ruthlessness first hand. It gives me the motivation I need to stay on your good side. I prefer my head on my shoulders rather than on a pike like your predecessor’s.”
“And you’d rather keep enjoying the emoluments of a flag officer.”
“It beats the alternative. What does Yotai want from us now?”
“The late Hachim LeGris’ widow.”
A quizzical expression twisted Marat’s angular, rough-hewn features.
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“The orders say find Marta Norum and send her to Yotai under tight guard.” Danton’s thick lips twisted in a dismissive moue. “Before you ask, our new viceroy didn’t see fit to share why. But I’ve been assured of his displeasure should we fail.”
“We don’t even know whether she’s still alive. No one’s seen Norum or her brats since shortly before we captured LeGris and executed him.”
“Nevertheless, we must find the delightful Marta, and deliver her or evidence of her death to Yotai.”
A grimace replaced Marat’s habitually sardonic expression.
“Why do I think serving Grand Duke Custis could make us long for Dendera’s gentle touch?”
“Keep talking about that feeling, and you might find out, Harvey. N
ot everyone is as tolerant of your quirks as I am because not everyone knows what you did to help me seize Government House. Many in our military forces would love to wear your stars.”
Marat cocked an ironic eyebrow.
“Tell me their names, Excellency, and I shall try to purge them from your administration before any covetous eyes land on your chain of office once they finish ogling my stars.”
“So you can eliminate your competition for my job? Perish the thought. But enough persiflage. I know your troops are keeping an eye out for Lady Marta, but they must take on a more active role in finding her. If she’s still alive, Marta can’t have gone far. Not with two eight-year-olds in tow. And not with that recognizable face of hers.”
“Should I divert my intelligence hunters from tracking down loyalist holdouts who escaped the purge? I ask because the latest reports show there’s enough of them hiding in the wilderness to start a serious insurgency. And that’s not even counting those who don’t love the Crown but aren’t happy a former Guards officer who pledged loyalty to Yotai is now running this star system.”
Danton didn’t immediately reply as he weighed the risks. Until matters were settled, Marat’s intelligence service would be stretched beyond the breaking point. The rebellion and subsequent coup left them with too few trustworthy operatives.
“Divert your resources,” he finally said. “The faster they find Norum or evidence of her death, the sooner they can go back to flushing out enemies of the state.
“As you wish.” Marat sounded dubious but didn’t seem inclined to argue.
“We all bow before a higher authority, Harvey. You to me, and I to Custis. Besides, we might get lucky and she’ll walk right into the cordon you deployed on the far side of the Petras greenbelt to intercept stragglers.”
“It won’t be hermetic since I can’t deploy enough troops. We control the obvious crossing points but the ground between them will only be covered by roving patrols. That still leaves plenty of bypass routes for anyone able to navigate through truly rough terrain.”
“I doubt a courtier such as Lady Marta can do so, Harvey. If she’s fleeing the city on foot, she’ll stumble into one of your checkpoints or patrols. Just make sure she doesn’t slip through because a half-asleep trooper didn’t carry out a proper identity check.”
Marat let out a mirthless bark of laughter.
“With the number of loyalist fighters still unaccounted for, they’ll be thorough, don’t fear. As motivators go, the bounty you put on enemy heads by far surpasses the thrill of killing despised enemies. Might I suggest you put up a substantial sum for Lady Marta? If the grand duke is that eager to see her, he won’t mind you digging into the treasury.”
“Excellent idea.” A quasi-feral smile briefly lit up Danton’s puffy face. “I wonder what the daughter of a marquess is worth.”
“It depends on where you’re selling her, I suppose. She’s a bit old and lacking in skills to fetch a good price on one of the barbarian slave markets.”
Danton snorted.
“To Grand Duke Custis, I mean.”
“Fifty thousand should be enough to motivate anyone without making it seem like you’re plundering the tax account.”
“Done. Pass the word among your troops I’ll pay fifty thousand to whoever finds Lady Marta Norum or ten thousand for her remains. And if she’s alive, we need her unharmed.”
“What about the children?”
“There was no mention of them in the message from Yotai, so I don’t really care.”
“You’re a true humanitarian, sir.” Marat came to attention. “Was there anything else?”
“No.”
Marat snapped off a salute, turned on his heels and left. When he was alone once more, Danton returned to the balcony doors and stared out at the city. His city, now. On his planet, in his star system.
He had a good idea of why Custis might be interested in Marta Norum. She wasn’t merely his predecessor’s widow and the Marquess of Cascadia’s daughter, she was also a direct descendant of Emperor Kal IV. It gave her claim to the crown a veneer of legitimacy the Ruggero line had lost, even if it was mostly false because of the succession rules in Kal’s day.
“What are you up to, Devy?” Danton murmured. “Is Lady Marta your way of establishing a reborn imperial court on Yotai, with her as figurehead empress and you as the true power? And if so, why shouldn’t I consider doing the same thing but build a new empire centered on Mykonos instead?”
— 5 —
“Why is mentioning the dangers of this area after dark funny?” Heloise asked.
A chuckle came from the shadows.
“Because my people and I are extremely dangerous, Sister. But we won’t harm any of you.”
“Then why are we speaking?”
“You may find this hard to believe, but we have a few things in common.”
“And they would be?” Her eyes searched the collapsed veranda.
“Mainly a desire to get away from this shitty star system without suffering further casualties, and it sounds like you might have a ride waiting at the Thera spaceport.”
Vague movement disturbed the darkness as if a ghost was taking shape just beyond the visible spectrum, or so it seemed to Marta Norum’s tired eyes. Then a face, swarthy and angular, appeared when the mysterious speaker removed his helmet.
“My name is Anders Proulx. We’ve been tracking you since your little troop of refugees entered the ruined quarter.”
Though his voice was steady, Proulx’s seamed features struck Norum as those a man on the verge of exhaustion. He had what her Uncle Olav, an Imperial Marine Corps veteran, used to call the thousand light year stare of someone who’s seen too much death.
“Why?” Heloise asked.
“That, Sister, is the second thing we have in common. We’re both on the run from Colonel Danton’s jackbooted thugs. I was curious to see why a group of monastics would risk passing through what has become the refuge of many who found themselves on the losing side, hunted by the new regime. Now I understand.”
Proulx nodded at Norum.
“My respects, Lady Marta, and my sympathies for your husband’s death. The good sister has a valid point. Your face is too well known. If anyone around here other than my troopers and I recognize it, your clerical escort might not live long enough to offer the Almighty a final prayer. Besides, the sisters and friars themselves will face a brutal death if they’re spotted by Danton’s soldiers or betrayed by someone who has a bone to pick with the Order of the Void.”
“The Void giveth, the Void taketh away,” Friar Sandor intoned in a low voice.
A wry grin flashed across Proulx’s face.
“Blessed be the Void. But dying still sucks horse bollocks.”
“You’re a believer?” Heloise asked.
“In a sense. I believe in survival, though not at the cost of my soul since I won’t make war on innocents, especially children, which is why we’re hiding from Danton’s troops and looking for a way off Mykonos.”
Heloise gave him a suspicious glance.
“Care to explain that comment?”
“It’s a long story and time is short, Sister. I refused an order because obeying would have meant committing a crime against humanity. Danton’s savages slaughtered most of my unit in retaliation. We twelve are the sole survivors of almost two hundred men and women. And like you, we face immediate death if captured. I want to offer your party the protection of a dozen highly trained troopers, retired Imperial Marines, in exchange for berths on the ship you intend to take in Thera.”
“Retired Imperial Marines?”
“We’re private military contractors.”
“Mercenaries,” Sandor spat out the word as if it was poison.
“Security specialists, Friar, hired by the Mykonos Merchant Guild to protect their commercial interests when the admirals’ rebellion reached the Coalsack Sector. After Danton seized power, he decreed
that all military forces in the star system were answerable to his government and forced my unit to work alongside his troops. We said no to an illegal order a few days ago, and here we are, running for our lives.”
“Why should I trust you?”
Proulx’s lips twitched with amusement.
“Look into my heart, Sister. You’ll see that while I’m no paragon of virtue, I am honest and wish you no ill. Or is your Order’s reputation for producing adepts capable of searching sinners’ souls vastly overblown?”
Heloise gave the other two sisters, Averyl and Maya, brief glances before saying, “Reputations rarely reflect the truth, Anders Proulx, but I think you’re an honest man, at least according to your own lights. And since we’re not only outnumbered but outgunned, I see little choice other than agreeing to your proposal.”
Proulx’s eyes lost their focus and wandered to one side for a moment, in what Marta recognized as the automatic reaction of someone listening to an invisible earbug. He muttered an almost indecipherable acknowledgment while a grim expression hardened his features. His gaze met Heloise’s again.
“Glad you made the right decision, Sister. One of my troopers just reported movement by a platoon-sized body of armored soldiers three blocks north of here. Either Danton finally decided to flush his remaining enemies from the ruins and string them up, or they caught your spoor. Considering Admiral Zahar wishes to see the Order of the Void extinguished, I doubt Danton will rest until he cleanses Mykonos.
“Either way, it’s time. You mentioned the Port of Tiryns. A good choice. We worked the docks for a few weeks before everything went to hell on this planet. I might still be in good enough odor with a few shipmasters who sail the Boetian Sea to secure us a few bunks behind false bulkheads, no questions asked.”
“Smugglers?”
“Entrepreneurs who live by the motto don’t ask, don’t tell. A few of them owe me for squinting at their load manifest instead of insisting on an inspection.” Proulx smirked when he saw Sandor’s expression. “Don’t worry, Friar. It wasn’t for personal gain. I earn my keep through hard work, not peculation. Once we’re out of danger, I’ll tell you about it. Check the street for moving, rubble-colored lumps. Those would be four of mine.”