| |
“All of you, hold your positions!” said Dane into his comm link. The fleet of Quantar troop carriers had deposited Dane and his ten squads of twenty men each in the foothills of the Hakkar mountains, then moved off into holding positions in low orbit. They had hiked five kilometers to get into position, on a thousand foot rock ridge just above the North Palace. Below, Devin and Axel were in flanking positions in equal strength, shrouded by night, snow, and the forested lands beyond the North Palace’s back gardens. All looked quiet as Dane peered down with night field glasses on his former family summer home, presumably still an outpost of the enemy. Beyond, to the south, the city of KendalFalk lay in near darkness, winter’s harshness nearly blotting it from view.
“Devin, are you in position?” he said into the comm.
“Yes, Sire. Half a kilometer from the back gates,” came the scratchy reply. “I can see troops there, perhaps a squad of twenty or so, not well armed, most of them wearing Quantar blue and orange, if that means anything.”
“They could be Bennis’ men, or they could be ours. Axel, what is your report?” said Dane.
“Uncertain. Some of them are not wearing military uniforms. They look like they could be civilian or militia. Either volunteers from the city, loyal to our cause, or traitors. In any case, I would say not regulars. Certainly not elite troops,” her voice crackled over the wireless link.
Dane peered through the field glasses again. “Agreed. Not regulars. And from the looks of them, not Imperial either.”
All the troops in the squads waited for him to act. They had spent three days traversing the jumpoints from Earth to Quantar, leaving immediately after the destruction of the Vixis. They were tired, angry, and ready for a fight. But Dane was unsure whether that would be necessary now. They had encountered no signs of opposition since their arrival in Quantar space ten hours earlier. Dane had a dozen Lightships in orbit, and ten more were patrolling the star system. They had found nothing but some faint ion trails, indicative of a swift evacuation. The major cities were silent, no activity at all it seemed, either from starvation, abandonment, or fear that their oppressors remained. The relief ships from Earth, led by Rijkard, would arrive in twenty-eight standard hours. Dane had to act soon.
“Squads one through ten. Assemble for paradrop. Short chutes. I’ll lead squad one,” said Dane into the link.
“Sire, I object!” said Devin.
“As do I!” chimed in Axel. “You’re putting yourself in danger!”
“Colonel, I don’t think now is the time to lecture me on danger. I’ve made up my mind. And if it’s any consolation, I’ll let Brake go first,” the mercenary smiled at Dane as he crouched next to him.
“Damn you Dane!” said Axel.
“Colonel, consider yourself on report. Now pay attention,” he said. “Once we’re deployed we’ll scale the garden walls and dig in. Then I want flares in the air from each of you. And close down those flanks. Nothing gets out, understood?”
“Aye, sir,” said Axel.
“Aye, Sire,” said Devin. Dane turned to Brake and nodded toward the ridge. “Go!” Brake backed up a dozen meters, the broke into a run and leapt from the ridge, deploying his chute instantly. Dane watched him descend with the night glasses, then saw him signal for the next man. Dane packed his glasses and walked back to the same spot Brake had started from.
“One man every five seconds after me,” he said into the link, then ran from the ridge himself.
Once grounded he saw the squads come down swiftly and silently, faint lights from the palace the only thing illuminating an otherwise gloomy night. Dane looked skyward at the falling snow, and thought it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.
The squads quickly assembled and scaled the garden walls, advancing halfway to the summer patio, where the small guard shuffled in the cold winter night, trying to stay warm, oblivious to the approaching troops. Dane gave the hand signal and his squads spread out, then dug into position in his mother’s gardens. Dane noted that they were unkempt and filled with brambles. Had she been here to see them, she would not have been pleased.
“Axel, Devin, in position?” he whispered. “Aye,” came the responses in near unison.
“One hour ‘till, dawn, Sire,” whispered Brake. Dane nodded.
“Now,” he said into the comm link. In seconds the night sky was ablaze with the red glow of a dozen flares, all rising above the troops on the patio, lighting them for Dane’s men to see and obscuring their vision of his troops. The men on the patio panicked, rushing for any sort of cover, but not firing. After a few moments a voice called out from the patio at them.
“Who goes there?” shouted a man from behind a marble balustrade. Dane signaled for quiet. “I say again, who goes there?” said the man. “We open fire in ten seconds if you don’t call yourselves out!” Dane sensed fear in the man’s voice. His intuition spoke to him again. He dropped his coil rifle, stood up, and began walking forward towards the man.
“My Lord!” shouted Brake, “Come back!”
“Hold your positions!” shouted Dane to his men. As he did all weapons from the patio pointed his way. Dane approached with his hands up, palms open.
“Who goes there?” said the leader again.
“Please, no violence,” said Dane. “You are surrounded by a superior force which could take you all out in a moment. I ask you to put down your weapons.”
The man hesitated. “I could still shoot you! Stop! Stop right there!” he said. Dane stopped his advance.
“Your accent. You’re from the Caderlands aren’t you?” said Dane. “My father used to take me there to hunt wild quarterboar. You’re not with the imperial troops, are you?”
“No,” said the man. “They all left last night. But how do I know you’re not with them?”
“I’m not.”
“To get in here you’ll have to prove that, to me. No more violations of our world. We won’t allow it.”
Dane sighed heavily, emotion rising in him. “I agree, we won’t,” he said. Then he removed his field glasses, hat and left glove. He raised his ring to the man. The guns on the patio began to drop.
“What is your name?” asked Dane.
“Walther. Faranc Walther. I was a rancher by trade, years ago...” his voice began to fade. “In the Caderlands.”
“You asked ‘who goes there?’” said Dane as he walked up the broad stairs. “I am Sire Dane Cochrane of Quantar. Your Lord and Director, and master of this house. I ask your permission to enter, and take possession of her,” said Dane. The man began to weep.
“The underground. They said you were dead...”
“No.”
“Or a traitor.”
“Never.”
The man dropped his gun and collapsed to his knees, hands to his face, weeping uncontrollably. At this the others on the patio too dropped their weapons, arms held above their heads in surrender. Dane went to Walther, and lifted him from his knees, supporting his full weight. The man was thin and bony, obviously malnourished. After a few moments, Walther began to calm. Dane called to the other men.
“Pick up your weapons, all of you. Never again will the men of Quantar surrender to anyone. I name you all now as deputies in my personal palace guard. If you accept.”
“We do,” said Walther, his composure returning. “Our commander is inside the palace now, Sire. I’ll make way for you.”
“Thank you,” said Dane. “Axel, Devin, move in now,” he said into the comm link. “Take up positions around the palace. And call in the regiments. I want garrisons in all the major cities by noon.”
“Aye, Sire,” came the replies.
* * *
“SIRE! I AM SURPRISED to see you, as you may well understand,” Dane was addressing the makeshift captain of the palace guard, whose name was Gollonbeck.
“I do understand. My men will take over the palace guard now, if you agree to relinquish?”
“I do.”
“Good.” Dane hesitated before asking the next question, not sure he wanted to know the answer. “What news is there of my father?” Gollonbeck looked to Devin and Axel, then back to Dane and shook his head.
“None, I’m afraid. We’ve not had time to look much as of yet. It’s been a long time since he was last heard from. I wouldn’t hold out much hope-”
Dane cut him off. “Thank you. Devin, Axel, you’ll see to it. Give it your highest priority.” They both hesitated a moment. “Now,” ordered Dane. Axel and Devin left without another word. He turned back to the guard captain. “Gollonbeck, I want your men to begin an assessment of the damage here, structurally and—aesthetically. Find out how much they took.”
“Aye Sire.”
* * *
DANE SPENT THE NEXT two hours going from room to room in the palace. What wasn’t looted had been vandalized in some way, nearly all of it. It filled him with outrage. The search helped quell his nerves, but when the comm link chimed in his heart began racing again. It was Axel.
“Dane,” there was a long pause, filled only by static. “I think you should come to the cellars in the north wing.”
He put the comm to his mouth. “On my way.”
** *
AXEL STOOD AT THE TOP of the stone steps leading to his father’s liquor cellars with three men of the makeshift palace guard. Devin stood off to one side, his face a blank mask. Dane looked to Axel, but she would not return his gaze. She bit her lip, then took a step that placed her between him and the cellar doors.
“Dane,” she said quietly, “You don’t have to do this.”
He shook his head. “Yes, Axel, I do. Go now, and take the guard with you.” He nodded to Devin, who silently rounded up the guard detail and proceeded down the hallway. Axel looked up at him a moment, then kissed him gently on the mouth. She stood aside then, but her posture let him know she would not be far away. Dane licked the taste of her from his lips as he passed through the doors. Inside of his soul, he feared it would be their last kiss.
He descended slowly down the cold stone steps, the click of his boot heels echoing through the chamber. At the bottom of the stairs he saw it, cold and hollow, a dull gray metal tube, transformed into a sarcophagus. He walked slowly towards it, dying a little inside with each step, his soul receding to the background of his consciousness, growing as cold as the damp walls around him.
The glass had been melted away. Inside, the bones of his father lay still, jaw slacked in death, flesh burned from his skeleton like chaff in a harvest fire. The royal orange sash of Quantar lay across the body, with his family crest in the center, obviously placed there after death had come, but enough to make the message clear. This is what the Corporate Empire of Man thought of Nathan Cochrane, Director of Quantar.
Dane let his grief wash through him, a sudden and cleansing flow. Behind it came the hardening of ice as his soul withdrew from a pain it could not bear. With all of his remaining will he allowed them to come, the tears he knew he must cry, this one last time. They streamed down his face as he spoke aloud in a weak and tired voice.
“Only for you, father, do I cry these tears. And I will not rest until I taste this Emperor’s blood, and the blood of my brother.”
Then he fell to the floor alone, his cries echoing through the cellar.
* * *
DANE ENTERED THE EAST Room at Government House in full dress uniform, family crest gleaming gold at his breast in the refection of the klieg lights. He walked across the marble floor of the ornate hall, boot heels clicking quietly as he passed. He stopped as he came to the flag-draped coffin containing his father’s remains, lying in state for one final day. Fine red velvet draped around the casket from the high ceiling to the floor. Fresh flowers kept the scent of a spring still far off hanging in the air, but he failed to notice any of these details, his mind elsewhere. His hand went to his military cap as he saluted the casket in silence for a long moment. Then he stepped up to the casket and removed the Orange Sash of Office he had taken off of his father’s corpse and draped it across his own shoulder, pinning it at his waist. This simple act ended a month of official mourning for his father. A month in which he had not set foot in a single government building, nor made a single official proclamation.
The vidlink cameras were then turned off, allowing Dane and his inner circle, his only remaining family, privacy in these moments. Dane turned now to face his friends. They stood in the reception area at the opposite end of the huge room, the place where Cochrane Directors of the last two centuries had greeted the rich and the powerful.
He walked towards them without really looking at any of them.
Marble columns supported the exterior walls and chandeliers of ancient crystal lit the room in soft gold tones from above. Multi-paned glass doors lined the right side of the hall leading to a balcony which overlooked the rapidly filling St. Joseph’s Square. He noticed none of it as he walked the last painful steps to his chosen fate.
Dane settled uncomfortably into a wingback chair that seemed large enough to swallow him. He looked to Devin, fully outfitted in a fresh General’s dress uniform. He was busy at the ornate Director’s desk, sifting through reports of food supplies, hard currency, and energy reserves that Dane had chosen to let lie. Devin opened his mouth once to speak to Dane, but the look Dane gave him told him unequivocally that there were far more serious matters to attend to. Dane sat back as Devin acknowledged his Director’s unspoken command and stopped his shuffling, waiting for him to speak what could only be unwelcome news.
Axel and Rijkard were in full dress uniform and priest’s purple robes respectively, standing near the windowed doors adjacent to the third floor balcony, from which Dane would soon be speaking to the murmuring crowd gathering below.
“The square is nearly full,” said Axel, looking out upon St. Joseph’s Square from behind a curtain. She crossed from the balcony doors to Dane, who was fidgeting with the sash. Dane had chosen to let the mottled stains of his father’s blood remain on it, as a reminder. He consciously conveyed a cold distance to Axel, for her own good. His decisions were now firmly made, the course of both of their futures set. What remained now was only the pain of revelation.
Axel stopped her approach at his side, her loving and gentle tone with him made maintaining his coldness to her that much more difficult. He tried to feign disinterest in her approach, protecting her as much as he could. It did not deter her in the slightest.
“Do you know what you are going to say to the crowd?” she asked.
He kept his tone direct and businesslike. “Yes.”
“And what is that?”
He looked at her, then to Devin and Rijkard in turn. “That I will soon be leaving Quantar.”
A look of shock crossed her face. It was Devin who protested first.
“Sire! The people need you here, to lead them!”
Axel followed Devin’s lead, her voice ragged with emotion. “But we’ve only just returned! We’ve just won-”
“No,” Dane rose from the chair, shaking his head, “We’ve won nothing!” He looked to each of them in turn; his friend, his ally, his lover. They all felt lost to him now. And no recourse for him but the solitary path he had already chosen to take. “You don’t understand, any of you! Quantar is weak. We must forge alliances, rebuild our strength, or we’ll not survive the battles to come.”
Dane took a step towards Axel. He felt detached from her now, emotions encased inside him. “The Empire did this, Axel. They will come for us again, and we must be ready for them. Three months on Quantar, that’s all I was given. Then I must go or all could be lost.”
“Three months...” Axel’s voice trailed off weakly. She turned away from Dane, then walked slowly to Rijkard. Dane watched as the older man put his arms around her. What’s this? he thought.
Rijkard’s voice was gentle but firm. “You must tell him.” Axel looked to Devin for support, tears forming in her eyes. But he turned away, staring blankly at the papers on the desk. She steadied herself, wiped a tear, then approached Dane again.
“I carry your child, Dane. Our baby will need his father here, when he is born.”
When he is born! The words cut through Dane. I have a son!
Dane bowed his head and leaned hard on the desk. The ice in his soul crushed his emotions in a vice, the terrible purpose of his cold will threatening to wipe out any hope of happiness.
“I cannot stay, Axel, I must-“
“Defend Quantar?” interrupted Rijkard, his tone angry. “Yes, you must. But you can’t defend her from a position of weakness. You feel guilt, because of your father’s death. You feel you should have been here to save him. But you couldn’t have been. It was impossible. So you punish yourself for your own perceived sins. Should your son also pay that price?”
Rijkard took Axel by one hand, and reached out to Dane with the other.
“Here is the strength you seek. Here, in the arms of the woman you love, in the child that bonds you together.” Now Devin put a reassuring hand to Dane’s shoulder. Dane wiped his eyes, then stood and looked at Axel.
Once he saw her face, the ice inside him cracked and splintered, and melted away. She rushed into his arms. Devin and Rijkard departed to a far corner of the room.
Dane held her close and tight and they both cried, then he pulled back and touched her belly.
“We’re going to have a son,” he said quietly. She kissed his cheek.
“I think Nathan would be an appropriate name,” she said to him. Dane looked down at the floor.
“Axel, I’m not sure I can marry you now. Alliances-“
“I can wait, Dane,” she said. “Wait for the day I can be your wife. Just don’t make me wait alone.” He smiled now and kissed her passionately. They broke their embrace as Devin and Rijkard returned. Dane sighed deeply.
“There are hospitals to rebuild, schools, the industry. We need to feed our people and prepare them for battle. I must travel and make the necessary alliances to ensure our survival. Can we four do all that together?”
“We can,” said Devin.
“We must,” said Rijkard. Axel looked into Dane’s eyes.
“We will,” she said.
Dane nodded. “Then we are agreed.”
He took Axel by the hand and walked deliberately towards the balcony, Devin and Rijkard trailing behind. Axel wiped her face once with her hand, her tears ended.
“It’s finally over then,” she said. Dane looked to her and shook his head.
“Over?” he said, parting the balcony curtains to step through.
“It hasn’t even begun.”