27

 

Vellerik watched the Tarikan ease closer to the Galtaryax. The shuttle was a converted exploration ship that allowed Governor Mennander to visit both space-bound and surface installations. A third the size of the Galtaryax, it was a lot newer and equipped with a state-of-the-art communications array mounted below the cockpit. The high fin above the ship’s body displayed one of the biggest imperial insignias Vellerik had ever seen. He felt certain the Viceroy and the Count would get on well.

“Tarikan?” said Triantaa, whose recovery was continuing well. Like Vellerik, he was in full ceremonial garb. “General, wasn’t he?”

“Indeed,” said Vellerik. “Sotthan campaign, I believe—thirty-third century.”

“To your places.” The order came from Count Talazeer himself, who had grown increasingly insufferable as the visit neared. Vellerik and Triantaa joined him, Administrator Danysaan, and Deputy Rasikaar in front of the accessway.

The imperial anthem began: the full orchestral version, of which Vellerik was not fond. He preferred the original style, which was usually performed by only five players with classical instruments. It had always struck him as rather understated and noble. The new incarnation seemed bloated by grandeur, utterly devoid of subtlety.

The accessway locks thumped into place. Vellerik looked around; Marl was still nowhere to be seen and it occurred to him perhaps Talazeer was wary of alarming the Viceroy. The accessway doors eased apart. First to appear were two bodyguards, both in the black of the Imperial Guard. Judging by their decoration bars, the pair were veterans. Like Vellerik, they carried only holstered sidearms.

As the pair separated, Viceroy Mennander strode forward. He was a small man, with white streaks in his hair, which Vellerik guessed might be artificial. He wore the gray robes of a civilian administrator covered by a long scarlet cloak. Holding it together was a large metallic clasp, again showing the imperial standard, the golden circle surrounded by twelve stars.

Talazeer greeted him politely, and they shook hands. “Viceroy, may I welcome you aboard the Galtaryax and to the imperial territory of Corvos.”

“Count Talazeer, it is a pleasure to see you again.”

“How was the trip?”

“Uneventful, though yesterday we received some troubling news.”

Vellerik couldn’t see Talazeer’s face, but the Viceroy had clearly noted the Count’s alarm.

“Nothing to do with yourself or this operation, rest assured. We will discuss it later.”

Talazeer looked relieved as he turned around. “Viceroy, allow me to introduce my staff.”

 

 

Once they were free of their duties, Lieutenant Triantaa declared he would test out his stamina with a trip to the cargo bay. Vellerik decided to accompany him, and they were not surprised to find it empty. All the troop—the three selected to accompany Vellerik the following day and the others—had been given time off. According to Triantaa, the majority were holed up in Perttiel’s quarters watching the latest clip from home featuring a famous actress.

Vellerik had decided the lieutenant was fit enough to participate: he would travel inside the Tarikan and coordinate the escort.

“I’ll feel better with you there,” he said as they sat down on a cargo container close to the combat shells. “Then I can concentrate on flying.”

It had been agreed that the shells would leave the ship to form the escort as they approached every mine and return when they were a safe distance away.

Vellerik shook his head. “All this effort. And for what? So the Count can put on a show.”

“Sir, I know you said the biggest threat came from flying into each other, but I have identified another.” Triantaa’s expression was grave. “Flocks of birds.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, sir. Kerreslaa told me ships in the northern zone have had the odd problem, and apparently it’s a migratory season. Once I’ve patched into the Tarikan’s array, I’ll see anything that can cause us trouble.”

“Very well.”

The cargo bay was utterly silent. The combat shells had been left close to the main doors. They would be transferred to the Tarikan later on.       

“Maybe they’ll name a ship after you one day, sir.”

Vellerik laughed out loud at that, even though he knew the young lieutenant was being genuine. “I certainly hope not.”

“You wouldn’t consider it an honor, sir?”

Vellerik took a long breath. Count Talazeer had agreed he could depart aboard the Tarikan. In two days, he’d leave Corvos behind. In five days, he’d reach Nexus Eighty. In eleven days, he’d pass the Core Boundary. In twenty days, he’d be reunited with Seevarta.

“Devan.” Vellerik put his hand on Triantaa’s shoulder. He had not used his given name before. “I simply do not care anymore. I am an old man, and I should have listened to myself sooner. I fear I have grown weak.”

“That is the last word I would ever use to describe you, sir.”

Vellerik smiled. “You’re a good officer. You’ll do well. When I was your age, I couldn’t even imagine a time when I would leave. I just did what I needed to: listened, learned, moved up. Nothing else mattered. To make captain, I knew I had to complete every order, go above and beyond. Then when I got there, I realized there was nowhere else to go—not without becoming a glorified administrator. Do you know I am one of the longest serving captains of all time? Not something to be very proud of.”

“I don’t agree, sir.”

Vellerik could see no reason to censor himself now, even with his subordinate. “I’ll tell you something else. I have no idea how many beings I have killed. Not just by the odd one or two, or even five or ten. It could be two hundred, it could be four hundred. I have no idea. I must admit, sometimes the thought of it shames me.”

Triantaa stared down at the floor. “Our enemies, sir. The Domain spreads civilization, advancement. This may sound stupid, but… well… it’s not our fault we are superior.”

“You sound like me. Forty years ago.” Vellerik ran a knuckle down his face. “I don’t think anyone will ever stop us—any people, any race. It is simply in us to do this. Fight. Conquer.” He turned to the younger man. “Just promise me this, Devan—you’ll only kill when you have to.”

 

 

He could not avoid the dinner. It was to be held in a small room specially adapted for the purpose. He arrived as late as possible and found Talazeer and Danysaan anxiously awaiting the Viceroy. Once again Marl was nowhere to be seen. Vellerik continued to speculate: perhaps Talazeer feared talk of the attack on the native girl had somehow reached Mennander, perhaps he thought it best to keep the Drellen out of the way so the subject was never mentioned.

While Talazeer interrogated the ship’s chef and the serving staff, Vellerik took a glass of wine and stood with Danysaan on the far side of a large rectangular table. He nodded at the hangings on the walls: ersatz versions of tapestries showing ancient emperors and classic imperial scenes.

“I didn’t even know we had those.”

“Neither did I. Rasikaar dug them out of storage.”

“Enjoying yourself so far?”

Danysaan made sure he was facing away from the Count when he rolled his eyes and answered, “I envy you, Erasmer.”

“How much longer will you have to stay?”

“I’ve already applied for re-assignment. As Rasikaar is more than happy to do the Count’s bidding, I am surplus to requirements.”

“I still find it hard to believe his methods really made much difference.”

“Increased work hours had an impact,” confided Danysaan. “But we’ve had more illness and missed days as a result—as I predicted.”

Vellerik kept his voice down. “So the figures are false?”

“No. What the Count has brought to this operation can be summed up in one word.”

Fortunately, Talazeer was still deep in discussion with the staff.

Vellerik nodded. “Fear.”

“Precisely. From myself down to the lowliest guard and the workers themselves—nobody dares gives less than their best. It all adds up over time.” Danysaan smirked. “Didn’t manage to have quite the same effect on you, did he?”

Vellerik took a hefty swig of wine. “What is this?”

“Red Eldar. Strong.”

“Good. Spoken to the Viceroy?”

“A little.”

“And?”

“As I have noted on previous occasions, his reputation for direct speaking is well deserved. My advice—watch your step.”

Shortly afterward, the chef disappeared and the Viceroy arrived. One of the attendants hung up his cloak for him while another poured more drinks. At Talazeer’s invitation, the four of them sat down. Neither the Count nor Danysaan appeared keen to face the Viceroy, so Vellerik was forced to sit opposite him.

Mennander sipped his drink with mannered precision. “Excellent. Red Keccbar—a fine choice, Talazeer.”

No one corrected him. Vellerik was more interested in the fact Mennander used the Count’s name instead of his title. He doubted Talazeer would make an issue of that either.

“I hope you feel refreshed, sir,” said the Count, after an adjustment to his uniform.

“Indeed, I do. The ship seems to be run very smoothly. I’m sure I’ll be similarly impressed by the tour of the installations tomorrow. Captain Vellerik, I understand your trip will be a little less comfort-able than ours?”

“A little, sir.”

“Must be quite enjoyable, zipping about in those shells?”

“Some might say I’m a bit old for it, sir.” Only now did Vellerik consider the fact he had a few years even on the Viceroy.

“Not at all. I know General Eddekal is sorry to be losing you.”

Vellerik gave an appreciative nod.

The two attendants returned, carrying plates with the first course. Mennander spoke as the four men picked up their cutlery. “To be honest, I’m afraid you may well find yourself recalled before long.”

“Sir?”

“As I was telling the Count earlier, there have been some worrying developments in the ninth quadrant: an escalation in the conflict with the Red Regent. It’s just as well that operations like this one are providing the Fleet with the resources they need. But if the situation worsens, every branch of the armed forces will be affected.”

“An escalation, sir?”

Mennander glanced at Talazeer. “I did not disclose the full details earlier, but I know this will not leave the room. Eight ships—a double patrol—were ambushed close to the Great Nebula. Four were destroyed, two crippled.”

“Cruisers, sir?” asked Vellerik.

Mennander chewed his food before answering. “All but one.”

Vellerik lowered his fork. Cruisers were the second most powerful designation in the fleet, each with a crew of almost four hundred. The Vitaari hadn’t sustained losses like this for a generation.

“Enemy losses?”

“Twelve, but the ships are comparatively small. Apparently, the attack showed considerable tactical progression in comparison to earlier strikes.”

Danysaan weighed in. “There are no notable systems in that area. Do we know the motivation for the attack?”

Mennander had clearly heard the administrator but ate for some time before answering. “That is a point causing considerable speculation. Some—myself included—believe it is retaliation for our actions on Yera III.”

Vellerik was unaware there was still an imperial presence on Yera III. The primitive planet had been colonized decades earlier. Other than the fact it hosted a usefully positioned supply depot, the whole system was a forgotten backwater. It was also situated a long way from the Great Nebula. In fact, it wasn’t that far from Nexus Eighty, where he would soon meet his connecting flight.

Noting the confused looks, the Viceroy continued. “Recently, we have become aware of… infiltrators on some of our less well protected territories. We don’t know a great deal yet, but there is some evidence they are part of the Regent’s efforts against us. These agents equip the locals with armaments and encourage them to conduct guerilla operations.”

“Drag in our men and material so we’ve less to face their conventional forces,” observed Vellerik.

“Precisely,” said Mennander. He seemed more interested in his wine than continuing his explanation.

Vellerik forced himself to wait. “You mentioned ‘our actions,’ sir?”

“Yes, well, a group of these guerillas somehow got inside the depot on Yera III and did a lot of damage. No fatalities, but an explosion took out most of the fuel, which meant Prince Telerrion found himself stranded—his ship was due to re-supply there. Anyway, he missed the birth of his first child—you know how long they’ve been trying. So on his way back, he took charge of the reprisals himself.”

Vellerik put down the forkful of food and leaned back in his chair.

“Quite imaginative, really,” said Mennander. “They used one of the black ghosts.”

“I didn’t know there were any left,” said Talazeer.

Administrator Danysaan frowned. “What are they?”

Vellerik answered. “They were found in some kind of temple in the mountains of the Ossarr home world. They can manipulate the minds of others; at first only their own kind, but our scientists eventually got them to the stage where they could affect most other humanoids.”

Mennander seemed to have quite an appetite for a small man. He ate a large chunk of bread before continuing. “In any case, our forces on Yera III purposefully let the captured rebels escape. The ghost then took control of them and sent them first to eliminate their leaders, then their allies, then their families. Over two hundred.”

“And then themselves, I imagine,” said Vellerik.

“When the ghost let them go? Yes, probably.”

For a while, no one spoke.

Vellerik knew he would not eat anything else. Telerrion had always had a nasty streak, but this was beyond viciousness.

“That was stupid. A commensurate response would have sent a strong enough message. Now every man on that planet will want our blood. The Red Regent will have allies flocking to her.”

“Captain.” Talazeer’s warning came through gritted teeth.

Danysaan’s wine glass stopped halfway to his mouth.

The Viceroy sat up straight and stared across the table. “I do hope I didn’t just hear you insult a member of one of the twelve clans.”

Vellerik knew he had no choice but to act immediately. He could hardly believe the words had come out of his mouth. “Please forgive me, all of you, a poor choice of words. I meant merely that—”

“I think you have said enough,” snapped the Viceroy. He took a deep breath in through his nose and rubbed his hands together. “Captain, I am tempted to say that I will not have you aboard my ship. That your presence might offend me. But I think it is best you leave this place—and end your term of service.”

The words struck Vellerik like a blow. Though he already dis-liked the Viceroy almost as much as the Count, he had gone too far. Whatever his private thoughts, he had dishonored himself and his uniform by criticizing the prince. He would just have to hope Mennander didn’t report him; he could face charges, even after retirement.

“Will you excuse me?”

Talazeer gestured at the door without looking at him.

Despite his shame, Vellerik couldn’t bring himself to apologize to Talazeer. He stood up and walked around the table to the Viceroy. “I am truly sorry, sir. Rest assured I will fulfill my duties to the best of my ability until they are complete.”

He was relieved to see the Viceroy offer a nod.

The wait for the door to open seemed endless.