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— 29 —

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The demand caught Torma, with whom no one ever dared negotiate, by surprise and Crimple’s smile widened at his blank expression.

“What I know is obviously of great value to you, Mister Torma, otherwise you wouldn’t have come all the way from your homeworld to speak with me. I’m a trader. I trade items of value for other items of value.”

“What did the others offer you?” Ardrix asked, mental fingers brushing Crimple’s mind with thoughts of trust and friendship.

“That too is information, Sister. But let me tell you this for free. You sure as hell don’t dress like the Brethren who were here yesterday. They didn’t look like soldiers.”

“Brethren? From the old Order of the Void?”

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Torma heard genuine surprise in Ardrix’s voice.

Crimple tapped the side of his nose with an extended index finger and winked at her.

“They didn’t seem old to me. And if your boss makes me a friendly offer, I can tell you more.”

“You might want to back off on that, Crimple,” Keter said in a somewhat strangled tone. “These two know ways of making people talk no one should experience. Tell Colonel Torma what he wants, and he’ll leave without giving you an indelible memory of things that should stay deeply buried.”

“Are you speaking from firsthand knowledge?”

Keter nodded nervously.

“The Colonel’s people arrested and interrogated me not long after I landed back home. They do things to your mind in his organization, terrible things, the sort that make sure you tell him everything.”

Crimple turned his eyes back on Torma and Ardrix, and the latter nodded.

“We’d rather not use those techniques, but if you won’t cooperate...”

After a moment of thought, Torma reached into one of his combat harness pouches, pulled out a pair of compact ration packs, the sort landing parties carry in case, and placed them on the counter.

“Food that will last for years. The only thing you need is water, and not even potable at that. It includes a filter capable of removing any contaminant. They’re convenient in an emergency.” He glanced at Ardrix and eyed her pouch. She retrieved her ration packs and placed them next to Torma’s. “Four packs. That should buy us answers.”

Crimple picked one up and turned it in his hand, studying the markings.

“I guess it’s like what the others gave me, something I need to take on trust. What else can you offer?”

Ardrix reached into his mind and projected an image of Crimple writhing in agony. The man took a step back, fear writ large on his face.

“What the—”

“I suggest you accept our offer, Mister Crimple. This is as good as it gets.”

Her voice was so soft, so gentle, so at odds with her words that Crimple’s confusion grew. She reached in again and smoothed the ripples of his disturbed thoughts, leaving him with nothing but the faint echo of a sensation he might have imagined.

“Besides, you’re giving something intangible, which has no value for anyone other than us, and receiving items you can use or sell. I see no downside for you.”

“Okay, okay. That’s what the other Void Brethren said as well. You must learn the same negotiating techniques in school,” he replied in a querulous tone to cover his confusion and recounted everything he’d told Rianne and Horam the previous day.

When he fell silent, Ardrix said, in a tone of wonder, “So there’s an old Order priory in Thebes, Brethren we’d thought lost these two hundred years. And they come from a world called Lyonesse?”

Crimple nodded. “That’s what the Theban ship captains say.”

She turned to Torma. “The name Lyonesse would explain the second letter L in the abbey mark on the surgical instruments, but I’ve never heard of the planet.”

“I’ll tell you what, though,” Crimple said, “that Order mission in the Thebes archipelago has to be a beachhead. The Brethren are spreading advanced medicines and technology for free, to the point where merchant captains simply sell it off in Aksum ports, knowing they’ll get more. The Sister in charge of yesterday’s delegation gave me antibiotics in exchange for information and several medicines for the merchandise from Keter I couldn’t sell. Anyone with a bit of cunning will tell you that’s what sneaky invaders do. Make you dependent on them. As they say in the back alleys, the first taste is free.”

“And this delegation you saw yesterday, where did it go?”

He shrugged.

“I presume they went home, back to Thebes. Captain Fenrir didn’t offer trade goods, which means he likely came here in ballast, for the Brethrens’ sake.”

“In an ocean-going ship, I presume?” Torma asked.

“Yes. A three-masted barquentine by the name Aswan Trader. She’s a fine ship, with a Stirling engine to power and propel her as necessary. The damn Thebans will end up owning the planet thanks to those off-world Void people.”

“Can you show us the medication they traded?”

A scowl briefly darkened Crimple’s face.

“You’ll not steal them, will you?”

Ardrix reached into a harness pouch and pulled out a small case.

“These are field tools. I offer the kit for one dose of each medication.”

She placed the case on the counter and waited as Crimple picked it up, figured out the opening mechanism, and examined the contents.

“Done.” He produced the vials, opened them one at a time, and placed a single capsule in front of the Sister. “We’ll make a trader out of you yet. Your colonel, maybe not so much.”

“What direction did their ship take?” Torma asked after Ardrix retrieved the medication samples.

“They were heading north-north-east at sunset, but that doesn’t signify. Theban ships use the Central Passage through the Saqqara Islands, and it’s slightly to the south of here. Using the North Passage adds at least five days. If you’re after Aswan Trader, the Central Passage is your best bet.”

“Can you show us on a map?”

Crimple let out a bark of laughter.

“I can’t read a damn map to save my life. The only thing I know is that you’ll find the Central Passage approximately two days’ sailing from here. More than that, you’ll need to see for yourself.”

Torma turned his head toward Ardrix.

“Anything else we should ask Mister Crimple?”

“No. He told us what we needed. The old Order Brethren should be the subjects of our next investigation.”

“In that case, Mister Crimple, enjoy the rest of your day and thank you.” Torma inclined his head, then turned on his heels and headed for the door.

Major Vinh, waiting just outside, asked, “What’s next, sir?”

“Back to the shuttles. I need a secure link with the commodore. We face a few hard and probably delicate decisions.”

“Yes, sir. In that case, please climb back into your car.” Once they’d done so, he raised his right arm, index finger extended, and twirled it in a circular motion. “Mount up.”

Thirty minutes later, Torma sat in the dropship flight deck's jump seat and waited as Petty Officer Klaasen established a link with Repulse. He faced a situation beyond his experience and training and was far from sure of what should happen next. That his mission succeeded beyond anyone’s wildest dreams didn’t even register. The biggest question concerned next steps, both to deal with the information that a star system called Lyonesse established an old Order of the Void priory on Hatshepsut and what might happen once this Lyonesse discovers the existence of the Wyvern Hegemony.

When Watanabe’s face finally materialized on the flight deck’s primary display, Torma steeled himself.

“What’s the word, Colonel?”

“We face a problem, sir. One that could transcend both our best and worst expectations.” Torma recounted the conversation with Crimple almost word for word before laying bare the issue that faced them both. “At this point, we can be reasonably confident that these people from Lyonesse know about the Hegemony’s existence thanks to Jan Keter—”

Watanabe turned his head to one side and raised a hand.

“Keep that thought for the moment, Colonel. We found a single mention of Lyonesse in the database. It was, apparently, a little imperial colony, part of the Coalsack Viceroyalty, though so distant from the sector capital, Yotai, it existed apart from the empire for all intents and purposes, at the far end of a wormhole cul-de-sac.”

“Which means it could have survived the collapse more or less intact.”

“And is now carrying out its own version of the Oath of Reunification. Please continue.”

“As I was saying, agents of Lyonesse on Hatshepsut, members of the old Order of the Void, now know about the Hegemony. But chances are good that knowledge hasn’t left the planet, meaning their superiors remain unaware. We can either allow them to inform what is probably a technologically superior polity with expansionist goals of our existence or make sure the results of Keter’s unfortunate visit are quashed. But I do not consider myself competent to make such a decision.”

Watanabe studied Torma for a few seconds.

“You mean we either leave with what we gleaned so far and hope for the best or erase the traces of our and Keter’s passage. The latter implies razing Mazaber, sinking the ship that carried the Lyonesse Brethren there, and seizing or killing the entire Lyonesse mission. Perhaps even destroying this Republic of Thebes, which is hosting said mission. That’s a lot of dead humans, Colonel. And if Thebes is the center of Hatshepsut’s rebirth as part of a long-term plan, then liquidating it will arrest progress, if not send the planet spiraling backward. Either will leave the Hegemony with a greater mess to clean up in the future, if we finally expand and absorb this star system.”

“In a nutshell, yes, sir. I’m no fan of mass murder, but my oath to protect the Hegemony is absolute.”

“As is mine.” Watanabe’s jaw muscles worked as he chewed on the dilemma Torma placed at his feet. “How about a compromise? We don’t engage in wholesale slaughter, but we round up everyone from Lyonesse and bring them home with us for questioning and to wake up our Ruling Council. Perhaps the Regent will reaffirm the Oath of Reunification and put some teeth behind it.”

Torma gave him a rueful look.

“I was hoping you’d consider something of the sort, sir. I’m not an advocate for mass murder, no matter what people might think of us Commission officers.”

“And I’m glad you didn’t disappoint me by proposing our own small-scale version of the Great Scouring. It would have been a foul way of laying the foundations for our rebirth.”

“That it would.”

“Let me see if we can track down this surface ship you mentioned, based on the last twenty-four hours of sensor scans. I assume you’d prefer leading the raid on the priory in Thebes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then we’ll intensify our scans of the area and see if we can figure where it’s located.”

“Scan for low-level power source emissions, Commodore. I doubt this mission will have gone fully native, not if the goal is elevating Thebes as the center of a new planetary government beholden to Lyonesse.”

“What will you do in the meantime? Rejoin us in orbit?”

Torma shook his head.

“There’s no point. Once we’re sure of our targets, we’ll go there directly from here. This disused landing strip will do fine as a temporary operating base.”

“All right, if there’s nothing else?” Watanabe cocked a questioning eyebrow at Torma.

“No, sir.”

Repulse, out.”

Torma found Ardrix chatting with Major Vinh in the command dropship's shade and informed them of his intentions. Vinh gave him a quick nod, then left to tell his people.

“What will you do with Keter?” Ardrix asked in a low tone so their prisoner, sitting inside the shuttle with his escort, couldn’t overhear. “Leave him on this strip or near Mazaber and let him find his own way?”

Torma allowed himself a grimace.

“Considering his only crime is one we’re committing ourselves, I think it’s too harsh a punishment. You saw Mazaber. I wouldn’t wish life there on anyone.”

“Thebes, then?”

“A better place, no doubt, if they have access to more advanced technology, but that would mean people from Lyonesse will eventually question Keter about everything he knows. I’m afraid he’s coming home with us. I’ll see that he’s spared execution, and perhaps once the Ruling Council learns of our expedition, I can quietly release him in what will probably be a brouhaha of epic proportions.”

She smiled at her superior.

“You’re showing surprising compassion, Crevan.”

“Perhaps this trek has opened my eyes and thus my mind to possibilities few back home even dream of. That’s bound to change someone’s outlook on things, including what they’ve done to support a state actively rejecting those same possibilities.” He gave her a crooked grin. “And to be honest, spending weeks aboard a Navy ship, taking my meals with Repulse’s officers, sitting at Commodore Watanabe’s table, socializing with his command team, and living among the crew has changed my outlook. They would deeply disapprove of my stranding a Hegemony citizen on this primitive planet instead of ensuring his safety back home, and for a reason I can’t quite explain, their good opinion of me matters.”

“You’re experiencing a spurt of spiritual awakening, my friend, and from that comes personal growth. It pleases me more than you might imagine.”