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“Are you out of your mind?” Major General Ishani Robbins glared at the image of Crevan Torma on her office display. “Bringing back prisoners from Hatshepsut?”
Torma had opened an encrypted link between Repulse and the Commission headquarters shortly after Task Force Kruzenshtern entered orbit around Wyvern after one last FTL jump from the wormhole terminus. Unencumbered by stops to scan former imperial worlds and outposts, their return trip took little more than half as long as the outbound voyage.
But even so, both Torma and Ardrix became, if not friendly with the Lyonesse Brethren, then reasonably familiar. Curiosity was indeed driving them to exchange information about each other’s respective worlds, histories, and versions of the Order.
“They’re living proof the Navy sent an unauthorized expedition beyond the Hegemony sphere,” she continued, “and with our active participation. Where do you intend to stash them? In our cells? Or maybe you should simply shove them out the airlock now.”
“Not our cells, General,” Torma shook his head, “and I can guarantee even suggesting the idea of spacing them will destroy the good rapport we’ve built with the Navy on the Commission’s behalf. They don’t take kindly to cold-blooded murder, which is why the town of Mazaber still stands, and the ship carrying the remaining two Void Brethren still sails. We’ve been treating the Lyonesse folks like involuntary guests, not prisoners, by giving them comfortable quarters, the same food as the crew, and entertainment database access. Our interactions are a voluntary exchange of information between equals. They’re not exactly our friends at this point, but we owe them guest rights. Once you and I are done here, Ardrix will call Archimandrite Bolack and arrange accommodations at an out-of-the-way priory. I’m sure his theologians will be keen on comparing doctrinal differences between the original Void and the Void Reborn.”
“You take a lot on yourself, Crevan. What if Admiral Benes or I disagree with your plans?”
“You can discipline or fire me and see what happens.”
She frowned at his tone more than his words.
“Was that a threat?”
He shook his head.
“No, General. Merely a statement of fact. Commodore Watanabe will refuse any order to harm the Lyonesse folks, and Ardrix would make sure you face Archimandrite Bolack’s wrath if you arrange for someone else to kill them.”
Robbins raised a hand in surrender.
“Stand down, Colonel. I was simply checking to see how far you’ve committed yourself. This will upset the Hegemony’s political balance in ways we can’t even predict.”
“I should certainly hope so. Lyonesse has been re-colonizing former imperial worlds in the Coalsack Sector for almost half a century, complete with naval outposts, ground forces garrisons, orbital platforms, subspace radio relays, wormhole control forts, the works. They swore their own version of our Oath of Reunification at about the same time we did, but unlike us, they’re acting on it.”
“Your so-called guests told you that? Did Ardrix plunge into their minds, or did they defect?”
“As I said, we exchanged information. Lyonesse has spent the last two hundred years convinced it was the only surviving FTL-capable star system left in this part of the galaxy. Proof of our existence shattered our guests’ deepest-held assumptions and beliefs, as proof of their existence has and will continue to shatter ours.” He shrugged. “Mind you, it took a while. They consider Ardrix an abomination because she’s not conditioned against entering another mind unbidden.”
“And they’ll live with members of the Void Reborn?”
“Again, curiosity is the primary driving force. They finally interacted with Ardrix and now understand she’s part of a tiny minority among the Void Reborn, that most of the Sisters can’t force their way into another’s mind. And there’s the theological aspect.” Torma chuckled. “I can’t help wonder whether the Lyonesse Brethren are entertaining notions of leading the Void Reborn back into the old Order.”
“Bolack will probably entertain the same notions, but in reverse.” Robbins let out a soft grunt. “In any case, what’s done is done. Get them hidden away. I’ll set up a meeting with Admiral Benes and Johannes Godfrey so you can give them the same briefing. They can decide on next steps. Mind you, Commodore Watanabe is probably speaking with one or both at this very moment.”
“If he is, it’s only to submit the fictitious patrol report, so he can account for the consumption of supplies and fuel. Watanabe made it clear he would not discuss events with anyone and make sure none of his people do, while Major Vinh’s troopers are used to never speaking about missions, not even with their chief of operations. Therefore, briefing flag officers from both combatant services on the results of an unauthorized mission is my job and mine only. However, there’s not much time if we plan on staying ahead of the story. Even though the task force is disbanding, and its personnel are sworn to secrecy, rumors will circulate within days. These things always do.”
A smirk twisted Robbins’ lips.
“Don’t I know it. Be warned, Nero Cabreras will likely buttonhole you the moment he hears you’re back. He’s been snooping around my office during your absence, and I don’t think he bought the story about fostering more operational integration between the Navy and the Commission.”
“Duly noted.”
“Welcome home, Crevan. I’m glad everybody is safe. We’ll speak again once you’re on the ground. Robbins, out.”
Her image faded from the workstation’s display, and Torma let out a long exhalation while giving Ardrix a wry smile.
“Now the hazardous work begins. Regimes like ours have a history of shooting the messenger.”
She smiled back.
“They’ll need an army for this job because, the way I see it, there are a lot of messengers. Shall I call the Archimandrite and let him know he’ll be hosting throwbacks still stunned that we’re the sort of heretics who allow males as head of priories, abbeys, and the Order itself?”
“Enjoy the call.”
To Ardrix’s surprise, Bolack promptly answered himself rather than let the friar acting as his executive assistant do so.
“Welcome home, Sister. General Robbins just let me know in a very cryptic way I should expect your call momentarily. I understand you brought back tremendous news.”
“We did. You recall the double L abbey markings on the medical instruments?”
“How could I forget?”
“The Lannion Abbey on Lyonesse, a house of the old Order, made them.”
“Good heavens! And where is this Lyonesse?”
“At the end of a wormhole cul-de-sac on the distant outskirts of the Coalsack Sector. Survivors of the Great Purge established a new house there in the years before Dendera unleashed the Retribution Fleet, which didn’t visit Lyonesse, by the way. The Lannion Abbey took in thousands of Brethren rescued from across the Coalsack and adjoining sectors. Eventually, it took on the title of Mother House, figuring Lindisfarne no longer existed, which is quite likely. In the last few decades, working with the Republic of Lyonesse government, they’ve sent out dozens of missions to reclaim former imperial worlds. They help locals recover lost knowledge and technology and prepare them for reunification under Lyonesse’s banner. Hatshepsut is the newest and most distant from Lyonesse, established three years ago.”
Bolack let out a low whistle.
“How extraordinary. And you’ve met these old Order Brethren?”
“We brought eight of the ten back with us as involuntary guests. The other two were in hiding at the time. Since this expedition was unauthorized, we cannot parade them around, nor can we keep them in the Commission’s cells. Colonel Torma would like our Order to receive them in one of our priories on Wyvern, and I was thinking Grenfell. It gets no secular visitors, the Brethren there are contemplatives who never leave the grounds, and it’s still within reasonable aircar distance from New Draconis. I’m sure our Order’s theologians and historians will be keen on interviewing our guests to their hearts’ content.”
“Done. Can a shuttle from Repulse fly them directly there?”
“Of course.”
“Let me warn the prioress. I assume I’ll see you in person within the day, so you can brief me on the expedition?” Bolack paused and glanced to one side. “I received an invitation from Admiral Benes for a meeting at Navy HQ tomorrow morning. May I assume there’s a relation with your expedition?”
“That is likely the briefing Colonel Torma, and I will be giving. Admiral Godfrey and General Robbins should also be in attendance. Perhaps even a few others who helped organize our trip, such as General Sarkis.”
“Then I shall welcome you home in person tomorrow. Was there anything else?”
“No.”
“Until the morning. Bolack, out.”
Ardrix glanced over her workstation display at Torma.
“The Grenfell Priory it is.”
“I received a message from General Robbins. We’re staying aboard Repulse until tomorrow’s meeting at Navy HQ. The shuttle will take us directly to the HQ landing pad. Our guests will stay here until afterward.”
She gave him a knowing nod.
“In case Benes decides that we can’t risk letting them live.”
“There’s nothing in his background that might suggest he’s the type who’d commit an atrocity, but this is the most unusual situation in the Hegemony’s history.”
“You sound worried.”
Torma chuckled.
“I am worried. We’ve come home with a shipload of extremely uncomfortable truths which will upend the paradigm that has governed us for two centuries. Historically, one of three things happens when such a paradigm is shown as false. The government in place sees the light and changes course; it refuses to see the light and successfully punishes those who dare upset the established order, or it tries to punish those who dare, triggering a coup d’état which removes the government in place. The latter two, not unsurprisingly, can trigger civil unrest, perhaps even a rebellion or an outright revolution. Those never end well.”
Ardrix grimaced. “Something like the chain of events which ended the Ruggero Dynasty and the old empire.”
Torma tapped an extended index finger against his nose.
“Precisely. However we handle this, we must make sure it doesn’t end in another collapse. And now, I should warn our guests and make the transportation arrangements.”
**
The next morning, Torma and Ardrix, bags in hand, reported to the hangar deck where Repulse’s pinnace piloted by Petty Officer Klaasen, waited for them. They landed on the Navy HQ roof less than an hour later, under a glowering sky that promised a deluge before the morning was over.
The moment they stepped out, a lieutenant senior grade came through the enclosed stairhead’s door and walked toward them. He wore an aide-de-camp’s knotted gold cord over the left shoulder, but judging by his worn features, he was probably a former chief petty officer commissioned from the ranks. Since old chiefs usually weren’t given dog robber duties, those being reserved for young, up-and-coming Academy graduates, Torma figured he worked for Godfrey, and his actual job didn’t involve catering to a flag officer’s official needs.
He halted and raised his hand in salute.
“Welcome home, sir. And you, Sister. My name is Krennek, and I’m on Admiral Godfrey’s staff. He and the rest of the attendees are assembling in the secure conference room. We can leave your bags in his office on the way there.”
Torma returned the salute, then gestured at the stairhead.
“Lead on.”
He took one last look back before the door closed behind him and saw the pinnace lift off. He felt a brief and somewhat strange sensation of loss, as if its departure marked the end of an adventure among people who made him feel like a proper officer and not a political policeman in a Guards uniform. People he now considered comrades in arms, if not necessarily close friends.
By the time Krennek ushered them into the secure conference room, several seats were occupied by people Torma didn’t know. Besides Benes, Godfrey, Robbins, General Sarkis, and Archimandrite Bolack, there was the chief of Ground Forces Intelligence and three middle-aged civilians wearing obviously expensive business suits. Senior bureaucrats who were part of the network, perhaps. They gave him the impression of being Chancellery secretaries, the sort who ran the machinery of government from the shadows.
“Colonel Torma and Sister Ardrix,” Krennek announced.
Benes smiled at them.
“Welcome back. I understand the mission was successful beyond anyone’s expectations. So successful, in fact, that we face several hard decisions.” He gestured at a pair of empty chairs on his right. “Please sit.”
They did so while Krennek busied himself at a discreet control panel by the wall-sized display. After a few moments, he turned around and nodded once.
“We are protected from any and all attempts at eavesdropping, sir.”
“In that case, Colonel, please go ahead.”