Imperial Twilight

by Eric Thomson

  The commodore stared at Morane in silence for a long time, jaw muscles working.

  “I’m not sure how to react, sir,” he finally said.

  “Here’s my proposal. Put your ships in orbit beyond the outer moon, then come down to Lannion with whoever you want. We can talk. I’ll show you around, including the vault, so you know I wasn’t kidding. I’ll introduce you to the governor and leading citizens, let you see what we’re doing. Once you’re satisfied, return to your task force and ask your crews what they think.”

  When he saw Bryner hesitate, Morane added, “I went through the same thing with what was left of the 197th Imperial Battle Group a year ago and a lot of light years away. And I didn’t even have the benefit of being able to show them their new home. Three-quarters joined me. The rest took one of my surviving frigates with the intention of returning to our home port. I suspect most of them fell victim to the fighting since then, if they even made it back in the first place. Give it some thought and call me back.”

  Another moment of hesitation, then a nod.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Morane, out.”

  “I didn’t quite expect you to go down that route,” DeCarde’s voice said from the briefing room’s open door. “But I suppose trying to recruit them beats trying to outshoot them.”

  “Economy of effort is still among our principles of war, Brigid. Besides, normal people experience difficulties ordering the deaths of those they know personally, so I hope that by introducing Bryner to as many of us as possible, it’ll further deter him from doing something awful.”

  “Sneaky.”

  Morane smiled and nodded at Sister Gwenneth.

  “I learned a thing or two about human psychology from my friend here.”

  **

  “Half of my crews are already declaring themselves in favor of staying,” Bryner said after he exchanged salutes with Morane on the Lannion Base tarmac. He gestured at the hulking chief petty officer first class standing at attention beside him. “This is Chief Aaron Kolat, Savage’s coxswain and the task force senior enlisted spacer.”

  “Welcome, Chief.”

  “Sir.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll pair you with Regimental Sergeant Major Bedros Havel of the Lyonesse Rifle Regiment.” Morane indicated the neatly attired non-commissioned officer standing one pace behind him and to his right. “My senior chief is aboard Vanquish, somewhere up there, watching your ships. RSM Havel is a Marine who retired here and became one of the Rifle Regiment’s plank owners.”

  The two grizzled noncoms eyed one another as they shook hands. Morane sensed each liked what he saw in his opposite number because the handshake quickly became a contest of strength which lasted just long enough to produce white knuckles before they let go by unvoiced common accord.

  “RSM, why don’t you and the chief head off? I’ll take good care of Commodore Bryner.”

  As the two noncoms headed for a staff car parked by the cliff side base’s main entrance, Bryner chuckled.

  “I’ve known Kolat for a long time, sir. I think he likes your sergeant major. Otherwise, he wouldn’t bother testing his grip. That’ll count for a lot when it comes time to ask my ratings what they want to do. Kolat’s one of the 160th Battle Group’s wise old men. It was my fortune Zahar gave me Savage as flagship.”

  Morane gestured toward the cliff.

  “Why don’t I show you the vault first?”

  After they’d taken a few steps, he asked, “How bad is it really out there, just between you and me?”

  Bryner grimaced.

  “Some days it feels like the end of times, sir. I’d give anything to go back and stop the rebellion. The empire might have been a corrupt, failing police state, but at least we didn’t massacre each other in job lots.”

  **

  By the time Lyonesse’s sun kissed the western horizon, painting a riot of colors on towering clouds over the Middle Sea, Morane and his guest were talking like two old friends contemplating the future.

  Morane led Bryner to the clifftop observation platform, high above Lannion Base’s tarmac, grabbing a bottle of Carhaix Barnburner and two glasses from the mess along the way. Once there, he poured them each a healthy dram, then set the bottle on a recessed stone shelf.

  “They distill this stuff not far from here. It’s no Glen Arcturus, but as whiskeys go, I’m not complaining.” Morane raised his glass. “May the future be less dire than we fear if it can’t be better than we hope.”

  Bryner took a sip, swirled it around in his mouth, and swallowed.

  “That’s actually better than the Yotai rotgut they distribute to wardrooms and officer’s messes.”

  “Lyonesse isn’t just a pretty place with plenty to live for. What do you think?”

  The commodore’s eyes were drawn to the lights of Lannion, coming to life one at a time, and the distant dark line of the Middle Sea. He inhaled deeply, relishing the faint salt tang in the air.

  After another appreciative sip, he said, “I’d rather serve Governor Yakin than Devy Custis. She has an irresistible innate dignity.”

  “You and me both. What else?”

  “The vault — your project — it stirred something within me. Capturing the best our species produced and preserving it from our worst instincts? I can’t conceive of a nobler endeavor.” A pause. “Forgive me if I sound a little strange. You’ve opened my eyes to so many things today, I’m not sure where to look, but I’m beginning to understand your passion for protecting this place. It’s a nobler undertaking than Regent Custis trying to create his own doomed empire.”

  The sound of footsteps coming up the staircase burned out of the living rock stilled Morane’s reply. Kolat and Havel appeared moments later.

  “Figures we’d find our flag officers having a drink up here. Best damn view for a hundred kilometers.” Havel held up a bottle and two tumblers. “Great minds and all that.”

  “What’s the word, Chief?” Bryner asked once Kolat held a glass filled with amber liquid.

  “Good land, good people, good troops, and no chickenshit. Bedros took me to meet the Lyonesse Abbey’s head sister, Gwenneth, who I knew on Yotai before Zahar murdered most of the Void Brethren and flattened the abbey. She figures we could do much worse than make this our home port, sir, and I believe her. A lot of our people would rather swallow the anchor in a place with a future. And that’s here, not where we came from.”

  Kolat raised his glass and turned to Morane.

  “I say we take the admiral’s offer and don’t look back. Screw Custis, screw Zahar, and screw the whole damn crap show out there. I don’t want to die for sweet fuck-all, and neither does anyone else in the 160th.”

  Bryner gave Morane a wry smile.

  “I think you heard our answer. What’s the drill? Do I genuflect in front of Governor Yakin and swear an oath of fealty?”

  “The plan is to drop nonsense like that when the new constitution comes into force. What I suggest, after a good night’s sleep in our guest quarters, is return to your command and lay it out for your crews. Offer those who don’t want to stay a ship and let them go. I doubt your entire complement is made up of folks without close relatives. If they want to find their way back here after fetching loved ones, they’ll always be welcome.”

  “Maybe we can arrange something a little more formal, like send one of my frigates to retrieve families.”

  “Absolutely. If that’s what you’d like to organize, feel free. In the meantime, I’ll send orders pulling you into a tighter orbit so your ships can rotate their personnel through shore liberty while we work on the logistics of sorting the leavers from the remainers and integrating the latter into the Lyonesse Navy.”

  “A good plan, sir.” Bryner drained his glass. “If there’s more of this divine nectar available, I’d like to raise a toast and seal the deal. What do you think, Chief?”

  “Sounds about right, Commodore. And if we can distri
bute samples to each ship, it’ll help show Lyonesse will make one hell of a better home port than Yotai.”

  “I know you’re only halfway serious, Aaron, but I’ll see that a dozen cases are loaded aboard your shuttle tomorrow morning anyway,” Havel replied with a satisfied smile. “Try not to hoard them.”

  — 51 —

  “Major?”

  Eve Haller glanced over her shoulder, then back at Captain Ryzkov, who was using the operations center conference room as her temporary office while the Defense Force Support Group worked double shifts to integrate Commodore Bryner’s task force with the Lyonesse Navy. Or at least the three ships that stayed behind. One of the frigates had taken those with no interest in remaining back to Yotai, while another was on its way to recover families, accompanied by Dawn Runner.

  “Sorry, sir. Duty calls.”

  “We can pick up the conversation later, Eve.”

  “Sure thing.” Haller returned to the duty officer’s command chair. “What’s up?”

  “Another Galactic Dawn ship just popped through the wormhole terminus. Dawn Seeker. A Captain Bassus is on the subspace link and wishes to speak with someone in authority.”

  “If this keeps up, we’ll have the whole damned Void fleet here. Let me speak with him.”

  As Bassus appeared on the main display, Haller couldn’t help but think Galactic Dawn captains came from the same mold. They all seemed older than the universe, with faces so lined they looked like topographic maps. And the eyes? Intense wasn’t an adequate description.

  “I’m Major Eve Haller, the Lyonesse Defense Force operations officer. Welcome. What can I do for you?”

  He nodded gravely.

  “Bassus, of the Void Brethren, master of Dawn Seeker. Rinne, who has Dawn Trader, told us Lyonesse was my Order’s new home, and so I bring two-hundred-ninety rescued from this damnable war.”

  “They are most welcome. The abbey will be overjoyed. Sister Gwenneth, formerly of Yotai, leads the Brethren here.”

  “So I understand. One of my passengers is not of the Order, and it is on her behalf I speak with you now instead of waiting until we’re on our last leg inbound. Did a Galactic Dawn ship perchance deliver two small children, they would be nine years old by now, along with a party of guards and Brethren from the Mykonos Abbey?”

  A pulse of excitement ran through Haller’s veins.

  “Yes. They arrived aboard Dawn Runner and are in the abbey’s care. Sigrid and Stefan, children of Marta Norum, last seen surrendering to rebel troops on Mykonos. Both are healthy, though they miss her.”

  Bassus’ severe features softened.

  “Marta Norum is aboard my ship, Major. She will be overjoyed beyond words.”

  An idea formed in Haller’s mind.

  “If you’ll delay going FTL for thirty minutes or so, I will send for the children and they can speak to their mother now, instead of waiting another agonizing ten hours.”

  The friar inclined his head.

  “A true kindness, Major. Of course, I shall wait as long as needed.”

  “Then keep this link open. We’ll call back to you once they’re here.”

  “Thank you, Major. I shall ensure Marta is in my day cabin.”

  “Operations, out.”

  Haller turned to Sergeant Rodion Kuryakin, the duty communications tech.

  “Contact the abbey and tell them. If they don’t have a car available, we’ll send the duty runner.”

  “Already done. Sister Averyl is bringing them herself.”

  She gave him a big grin.

  “I knew there was a reason I’ve been keeping you around despite that questionable thing you call a sense of humor.”

  “I aim to please.”

  **

  Marta rapped the bulkhead beside day cabin’s open door with her knuckles.

  “You called for me, Captain?”

  Bassus looked up from his reader and smiled.

  “I did, Marta. Please come in and sit. You too, Jacelyn. I’ve been in contact with Lyonesse.”

  “And the news?” Marta’s heartbeat surged when she met Bassus’ sparkling eyes.

  “See for yourself.”

  He gestured at the main display, which sprang to life as if by magic.

  Two achingly familiar faces replaced the Galactic Dawn logo and Marta felt the universe enter into a spin. Bram grabbed her by the shoulder and kept her from falling into a dead faint.

  “Mom?”

  Tears erupted from Marta’s eyes with unexpected force, veiling her sight. She fought both sobs and an overwhelming urge to laugh with joy and couldn’t get out a single coherent sound.

  “Your mother is fine,” Bram said. “She’s just incredibly happy to see you.”

  But neither Stefan nor Sigrid heard the former aide because they too were crying.

  Bassus and Bram glanced at each other with slightly damp eyes.

  “You should check your environmental systems, Captain. Suddenly, there’s a lot of dust in the air.”

  “Don’t hold back on my account. The Almighty commands us to celebrate joyful occasions.”

  “I prefer to raise a glass, Captain.”

  Marta finally regained a modicum of control and wiped away the worst of the waterworks to clear her sight.

  “My darlings, safe and sound.” Her voice, turned raspy by emotion, nevertheless touched Bram deeply.

  “Our journey wasn’t without its challenges,” a woman’s voice said. Then, another familiar face joined the children. “But I’ve never seen braver little humans than these two.”

  “Averyl!”

  “Lady Marta. All of us made it. Hartwood Cahal asked that I tell you he kept his word. He’s now back in service with the Lyonesse Defense Force, as are his three men.”

  “It’s just plain Marta now.”

  “Understood. And Heloise?” Marta gave Averyl a quick summary of their time together, ending with Heloise’s violent death. “You said she was touching you when she died?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then a spark of what was once her consciousness survives within you.”

  “I know.”

  A small voice piped up.

  “When will you get here, mommy?”

  Marta glanced at Bassus, who said, “We should be on the ground in just under twenty hours.”

  “Did you hear, Stefan?”

  “Yes, mommy. Sister Averyl says we’ll be waiting for you at the spaceport.”

  Another upwelling of tears threatened to overwhelm Marta.

  “I can’t wait.”

  **

  “Minor miracles like this give me hope for the future,” Morane said, watching two little people run into the arms of their mother on the Lannion Spaceport tarmac.

  “We should savor every one of them, Jonas because they’ll likely be far and in between from now on,” Gwenneth replied. “But I agree, joy brings hope, and there’s a lot of joy here today.”

  Both stood on the spaceport terminal’s observation deck, curious to meet the woman who’d seemingly returned from the dead. Based on what little Bassus relayed to Gwenneth after Dawn Seeker dropped out of FTL at the hyperlimit, she’d lived through an extraordinary adventure and was not just a mother reunited with her children in an unpredictable twist of fate.

  “More than I’ve seen in a long time, Sister.”

  “I know you’re keen on hearing her speak about Grand Duke Custis’ court and his plans, but give it a few days, please. Let them enjoy each other’s company undisturbed on the abbey's peaceful grounds.”

  “Of course. I’ll have enough to keep me busy talking with Lieutenant Colonel Bram. She’s not turning into one of you, is she?”

  “The exact opposite of Marta. Not a shred of talent, but according to Bassus, filled with compassion. She should make a good addition to your staff.”

  “Glad to hear it. Otherwise, the Brethren might end up outnumbering the defense fo
rce, and though you’re capable of doing much to protect Lyonesse, sometimes the use of military might is unavoidable.”

  Gwenneth, eyes still on mother and children, now walking toward the terminal, arms around each other, said, “I wonder how history might have turned out if Admiral Zahar had welcomed the Brethren as friends instead of enemies to be destroyed.”

  “Perhaps he did, in a parallel universe, though we’ll never know. And neither will he. Colonel Bram appears to be handy with a gun.”

  A wry expression softened Gwenneth’s severe face.

  “That bit of military might which can’t be avoided? Perhaps, but she made this reunion possible, and I thank the Almighty for guiding her hand.”

  Morane nodded toward the stairs.

  “Shall we welcome Marta Norum?”

  “In a moment.”

  He noticed her hesitation. “What is it?”

  “I’ve been speaking with Bassus and his people since they came out of FTL at the hyperlimit.”

  “And?” Morane gave her a curious look.

  “How can I put this without appearing…?” Gwenneth seemed to search for her words. “Overly esoteric, I suppose.”

  “Try me.”

  “Marta isn’t a consecrated sister, yet she’s one of us, religious rites notwithstanding. Furthermore, she exhibits the most powerful talent in living memory, one developed over an impossibly short period. I don’t understand how, or why, nor does anyone else. But Bassus and I are in agreement. Her arrival here, at this juncture, is no happenstance. She has a role to play in this planet’s future. In the knowledge vault’s future. What that is, no one can tell. Marta is not even aware she might be called to serve a higher purpose.”

  “But you are?”

  “Signs and portents, Jonas. When Kal, first of his name, founded the empire, the head of our Order received a vision, a prophecy if you like. It spoke of a sister with unusual ability appearing out of nowhere shortly after the Four Horsemen begin their apocalyptic ride across the galaxy, a sister charged with protecting the spark that saves humanity from eternal darkness.”