There were celebrations in the streets; Ascension Day was the culmination of a multi-global effort.
Biologists and geneticists worked side by side with archaeologists. It was the pinnacle of Imperial science, achieving the impossible.
And all the while the Bishops lurked in the shadows, whispering of the divinity of the second coming.
Karin City - Karin
A black flag streamed from the highest tower of the fortress. Far beneath the fortress, through the snow-clogged streets of Karin City, symbols of the High Houses were being blacked out. Youths ran in packs through the snow finding every government sign or military insignia, spraying black paint over the mustard yellow wolves'-heads, before running off to find more. The fever was spreading through the streets of Karin. Word spread of how the young Prince had removed the colours of the troops who marched with him when he had toppled General Iver, and of how he in turn had been struck down.
Troops had been dispatched to maintain order, guarding against those die-hard fanatics who refused to believe that General Iver was dead. Along the great Maw leading to the doors of the Fortress a double line of steel stood silent watch. Imperial ITE Mechs held vigil, their guns trained on the streets ready for any surprise attacks from the crowd of citizens gathered in an impossible line, some holding candles, others uttering long-forgotten prayers, guided by the odd Kardiac soldier speaking by rote the prayers they had been taught as children.
Archduke Walker von Karin, defacto leader of the Empire, stood leaning back against a stone pillar in his fortress watching the body sitting upon what had once been a chapel altar. The Prince lay in state, silent and reposed, surrounded by the flickering light from candles lit by reverent soldiers of House Kardiac. No, that was not solely the case; he had witnessed some of his own soldiers lighting candles. Most notable amongst them were those who had marched with the Prince against the General.
Despite the protests and objections of the doctors, the Prince had been moved from the infirmary to the chapel. He had been left in the clothing he had worn to face Iver, lying with his hands crossed over his chest, deathly pale, barely breathing. He hovered on the edge of death, the bloodroot poison working its way through his system, beyond their medical science to cure.
Walker had stood there through the benediction given, at the insistence of Colonel Ramsey, by a Kardiac house Chaplin. The Archduke had found himself in no position to argue; the Kardiac forces outnumbered his own troops in the city by at least two to one. Any reinforcements he had on hand had been fanatically loyal to General Iver; that made them unreliable to him. Walker had little choice but to oblige the Templar's request; the last thing he needed was another military coup.
He didn't like where things spiralled, and it didn't help that the Kardiac forces who inundated Karin had a steel vein of religion that ran through them, a legacy that had never quite been forgotten. There had already been troubling reports of stones being thrown through the windows of the local mosque, and accusations flying of false religions...
However, Walker had no intention of trading one dictatorship for another, especially not one based upon the religious teachings of a madman three hundred years dead. Prince Edward represented a symbol, who, if used correctly, would ensure the unity of the Empire. But like any fine blade, it possessed a wicked double edge; Kardiac's legacy was testament to that. And in the days that had followed the coup he had taken whatever steps he could to ensure that Iver's troops were cycled to the front lines, and would do whatever he could to ensure that the Kardiac forces went with them.
He walked around the small altar as he studied the peaceful face of the Prince, lying as the poison wreaked havoc through him. Appearing as the dead, like his great Uncle the Immortal Emperor had at the end, kept alive by the deadly poison that had violently changed him, but in a sleep far deeper than any coma.
"Your Grace," Colonel Churchill spoke, the fusilier doffing his beret as he stepped through the doors into the small chapel, taking a moment to stare down at the Prince before he looked at his Archduke, "With respects sir, I am preparing to accompany Captain Zoran back to Sentinel Station. Our reconnaissance of the Amsus fleets shows that they are on the move."
"They would have to attack now," Walker murmured bitterly, sinking his hands into the pockets of his greatcoat and looking at the loyal fusilier who had defied his General to throw his support behind his Highlord, "Do we have any indication of how many battle groups the Amsus are sending?"
Churchill looked soberly at his Archduke. "All of them, your Grace."
Walker took a long, deep sigh as he rubbed his forehead. There really was nothing he could do except dispatch everything he had to strengthening the front lines, and await the inevitable invasion of Karin by the Amsus. With the experienced Karin elite reinforcing the various outposts and Sentinel Station, they would be entrenching for a siege, the Amsus throwing everything they had in an attempt to retake the jump nexus Sentinel Station protected.
And there was still no word from Taine after his victory at Ordessus.
"Assemble the war council, and order all but the Emperor's honour guard to make ready to head for the front lines," Walker commanded, "I'll want you to take charge of Sentinel and hold that gate..."
Churchill looked at his Archduke in concern. "That is going to leave Karin in the hands of the Kardiac army."
"We're all in danger now. If they want any hope of surviving, they have to go as well," Walker said calmly, "We need to hold the gate at all costs, but if we lose it, and are forced back to Eisenhower Station, we're going to blow the jump gates and seal off the Apilon Rift. I won't allow my people to be subjugated by the Amsus again. We can worry about Immortal Emperors and religious fanatics later. Right now, let's keep our freedom."
"As you command, your Grace," Churchill nodded.
"Besides," Walker murmured, looking thoughtfully down at Edward's face, "I still have faith that Taine can pull off another miracle."
* * *
Imam Feruk Hama Karim disembarked the transport into the cold of the Karin winter, uttering a surprised prayer to the most merciful Allah as the chill bite of the Karin wind cut through the thin clothing he was wearing. It was summer on Eqyr-Ouso, when the Silent Caliph had ordered him to go to Karin. Feruk, raised in the warm suburbs of New Karāchi, had heard rumours of the frigid ice world that was the new Imperial capital, but he had just presumed they were exaggerations. Allah was testing him.
He pulled his Ihram robe tighter about him and found the passport line, smiling warmly and pulling a face at a young baby staring curiously back over her mother's shoulder, burbling and reaching for the tassels of his headscarf.
He presented his passport at the appropriate moment when it was his turn in line, the Karin immigration guard flipping it open and looking up to study the Imam's face, taking in Feruk's Siraiki heritage and the thick accent the Imam spoke with when answering questions.
"Is your trip business or pleasure?" The guard asked, not really prepared for the answer.
"Oh, I have no business here, Allah has sent me here to warm the emptiness your hearts, that has frozen this world through your lack of faith," Feruk replied cheerily.
The guard paused. "And that work is?"
"Spreading the word of the holy Qur'an to those who have turned their backs on Allah," Feruk bobbed his head, his tassels swaying, "It is most cold here, on your world, yes?"
The guard looked perplexed, reaching out to stamp the passport before handing it back. "Sir, it's always cold on Karin, sir."
"I shall be warmed by my faith," Feruk said confidently, tucking his passport away and walking through into the starport to reclaim his bag and proceed through customs. It was a long an arduous possess, having to watch as his bag was swept again and again through machines designed to divulge its contents. The guards frowned, seeming upset that the lone bag he was carrying contained nothing but a book and a change of clothing. They seemed to miss the basic tenet that Allah would provide.
He bowed again gratefully as they finally allowed him through into the main terminal, looking about eagerly for the ones who would meet him, cheered when he spotted the pair of Fida'i who did their utmost to appear inconspicuous. They were sneaky, always slipping around, carrying out their Aga-Khan's will on behalf of the Silent Caliph. Feruk smiled at the surprised pair, who hadn't expected him to spot them so quickly, setting his bag down and embracing them both like lost children.
"Imam," The first said respectfully, "We are pleased that you came."
"Oh my yes, I could not stand by and let history repeat itself," Feruk said, looking troubled, "When I first heard of the trouble on Karin, I was reminded of the dark time during the old Empire..." He took a deep breath, murmuring a prayer for the dead wiped out in the purge. Everyone on Eqyr-Ouso knew the price of their faith, of the Silent Caliphs choosing to remove their own tongues rather than speak the blasphemous litany to a false god. Of the desperate Exodus sheltered by VonGrippen, desperate to hide the last surviving Islamic sect from the genocide Kardiac would have wrought as punishment.
He shuddered inwardly, thinking about the ways and means Kardiac had employed. The Taqiyya would have protected some, but Kardiac had a way, a singular determination that would have destroyed even the most resolute of believers, mind-shattering drugs that would have torn even the strongest believer's faith. None of the Caliphs had been willing to risk the chance, and had chosen the most extreme manner possible to ensure that Allah remained where he belonged, in the hearts of the faithful.
"Come," he said, picking up his bag again, "You must show me to the mosque so I might pray, and when I am done, you shall tell me all about the false idol the Imperials have created."
* * *
Silence in the chapel, as Colonel Evans walked into the room. It had been tricky to get past the pair of Wolf Guards at the entranceway to the chapel, part of Edward's honour guard, there to ensure that the body was undisturbed. But Evans was a resourceful man, entering from the Chaplain's quarters and waiting until the Archduke had departed before allowing himself a chance to slip in and observe his Master's handiwork.
The aquiline man turned the tarnished band of silver over in his hands; a gift from Rikard, a message for Taine. He supposed it was only fitting that it be delivered, and it was a convenient excuse to carry forward with the next phase of his delicate plan.
He slipped the band onto Edward's brow, the circlet sitting properly, pressing down the hair and glittering in the dim candlelight. Edward was now nothing more than a symbol, one more powerful than Archdukes, Senates, and even the return of the Excalibur. One that potentially could turn the war against the Amsus Hegemony.
That could prove disastrous for them if the boy was even half as powerful as he was supposed to be. The secrets locked inside the Immortal Emperor's blood flowed free and unfettered; Rikard was gambling everything on the hope that he would roll a hard six.
It was not for Evans to second-guess his master's will. He was simply an instrument, albeit a valuable one. He would have to ensure that he remained so. Drawing himself up, he turned from the body, walking towards the double doors, pulling out his pistol and ejecting the magazine. He tossed it onto a side table before he walked out, between the two Wolves, his hands raised.
"I felt I should turn myself in," he said, smiling confidently. Silence in the chapel, as Colonel Evans walked into the room.
* * *
The vessel marched through the library, carrying out its Master's command. It had taken time to research the ideal subject. The piece of divinity within him twisted and surged ready for implantation. It hungered for a mind capable of supporting it, one that would survive and thrive where this vessel would soon die.
The intelligence archives in the black tower were meticulously maintained, bright white computers next to rows upon rows of vacuum-sealed vaults. Secrets gathered and correlated from across the galaxy ended up in the archive ready to be used when they were most needed.
Colonel Evans had been ruthless in his pursuit of information, and the archives' crown jewel sat plugged into a corner, the Gorean organic computer, stolen from the Ever Watchful Eye himself. The information that it contained had been painstakingly extracted, analysed and stored into the Imperial archives, the history of the ages as seen by a being who had existed for an eternity.
The vessel paused, slipping his PKD from its holster and cycling up the charge. In the aftermath of Iver's failed coup the city was still in chaos, but soon Imperial forces would descend on the black tower, the heart of Colonel Evans's Intelligence Network. The information contained inside the tower was too important for it to be neglected for long.
His prey was toiling in an office, working with pieces of Peligian crystal, cataloguing and analysing the data they contained, small round glasses perched on the end of his nose, tapping keys as he worked.
"You needn't creep about, I heard you enter." The middle aged, African-Karinian turned in his seat, glanced down at the gun and back up at the grey-clad intelligence officer standing menacingly in the doorway. "I see Colonel Evans has seen fit to tie up his loose ends, ensuring his dirty little secrets never see the light of day."
The vessel stepped forward towards the man, lifting the weapon on impulses from the burning within him, pulling the trigger without hesitation, the weapon rendering the academic unconscious, as the vessel knelt over the body and pressed his hand to the other man's chest, passing the essence onwards to a man who would make use of it.
* * *
"You have to execute him!" Major Malone demanded furiously, slamming her hands down upon the wooden council table. She could barely contain her rage; it was only Captain Zoran pulling her back gently that stopped her from doing something rash.
Walker stood with a small group of his senior military advisors on the far side of the table, the Archduke surprised by the emotional head of the Karin guard charging into the council chamber as he prepared the defence of the Empire.
"I take it you mean Colonel Evans?" Walker asked, setting his papers aside and giving her his full attention, "Contrary to appearances, the Empire is not a lawless state, and I am not in the habit of ordering summary executions..."
"He killed my husband!" she screamed, fury overtaking her as she struggled in Zoran's firm grip. The Captain had been preparing to lead the collection of VonGrippen ships to reinforce Sentinel Station, receiving his last minute instructions when she had burst into the chamber. Despite his robust size, he'd still been quick enough to intercept her.
"And he will be tried for murder," Walker vowed, "I give you my word, he will be punished, but he will be punished according to the letter of the law. For now, he's in the deepest darkest cell we have, under heavy guard."
Walker sighed as he met her eyes. Too many generations growing up under Commonwealth rule, living with what the pirate barons had deemed appropriate justice - it was going to take a very long time before the Empire was able to restore faith in a judicial system, and he couldn't risk undermining everything that had been done so far simply to avenge a death, no matter how guilty the man was.
Major Malone slumped in the Captain's arms, turning, her anger melting into sorrow as she began to cry, weeping openly for her lost husband, something she hadn't had time to do in the wake of the coup. Walker nodded, allowing Captain Zoran to guide her away, an old friend calming her down, and helping to put her back together again.
Walker rubbed his temples, sitting heavily in his chair, looking at the soldiers about him, Colonel Ramsey and his Kardiac Senior Chaplin, Churchill and the Karin Colonels and Captains that had formed the provisional government after the assassination of the Senate. There was only one way to undo the damage General Iver had wrought.
"I am reforming the Senate," he said softly, "Have the word sent to all the Imperial Colonies and core worlds, as well as a request sent to the Taļrians for them to fill their Senate seats. The sooner we can restore a government, the sooner we can start looking towards the future."
"We shall need to appoint a Chancellor," Ramsey, the gruff old man said, scratching his now steel-grey beard. Weeks aboard a transport and dealing with the subsequent aftermath of the coup had seen him simply let it grow out. It gave him a kindly grandfather appearance, and despite his religious convictions he brought a calm direction to the council, one that the other soldiers in the room seemed to respect and respond to.
"That has traditionally been an appointment by the Emperor," Walker said, knowing full well that Ramsey was correct. With the Prince incapacitated, Walker had been acting as Chancellor for the past few days. "As soon as the Senate reconvenes I will have them appoint a Chancellor."
Ramsey nodded in satisfaction. "Very well. Matters of state aside, we should resume our battle plans." He gestured for the officers to come closer as his aide spread a tactical map across the table. "We should look to preparing the fortification of Eisenhower Station by dividing our forces, then, should Sentinel fall, we will be able to hold off any Amsus assault on the far side of the nexus long enough to enact the appropriate defensive measures." He walked forward and placed markers on the map. His take-charge approach had the men listening with keen interest as he outlined his plan.
Unlike General Iver's approach, Ramsey looked to take an active role in the battle that was to come. He affixed his confident gaze on the Archduke. "If you give me command of the Osterburg Hunter-Killers that were a part of General Iver's force I will reform them into a fast strike force and harry the Amsus before they ever reach Sentinel. If we tie these fast-moving ships to siege defence it will only hamper their effectiveness..."
"The Colonel is correct," Churchill folded his arms, "The Osterburgs would make an effective cavalry force. They'd force the Amsus to divert resources to protect their flanks, it'd draw the Raptors away from the main body of the Amsus armada."
"We are going to be stretched perilously thin as it is." Walker rested an elbow on the arm of his hair as he rubbed his temple. "We'd need to guarantee they'd be effective..."
"I'll command them personally," Ramsey replied firmly, "I will make every last Osterburg count. That, I swear."
Walker straightened up, surprised. "You intend to lead them?"
"I don't stand behind my lines," Ramsey responded, his gruff voice resolute, "A Kardiac Soldier leads from the front."
"Very well Colonel," Walker nodded, "Take what you need, the force is yours. Colonel Churchill, you have command of Sentinel while Captain Zoran will command the naval forces. I don't need to impress upon any of you the gravity of the situation we are facing." The Archduke stood, adjusting the greatcoat about his shoulders. "The Empire is counting on you for its defence." He placed his right hand over his heart in the traditional salute of the Chancellor to his men. "Fight well..."Ramsey nodded in satisfaction. "Very well.
Around the room each of the men reached up and unbuttoned the chest flaps of their uniforms, bearing the colourful House slashes underneath - a vow from the collective to die for the Emperor and for the Empire.
* * *
Colonel Evans sat in his cell, quite comfortable despite his surroundings, looking up towards the heavy barred doors with the Wolves watching him, machine-guns levelled, under orders to shoot him down if he so much as approached the bars.
He'd set his coat to one side and rested in his shirt-sleeves waiting, smiling chillingly as the far doors finally opened and she entered. He'd been waiting for her; in the few hours since he had surrendered, he was confident that she would be the first person he saw, and he wasn't about to be disappointed.
Major Malone approached the bars, her hair hanging across her face, but he could still see the red swollen eyes; she'd been crying. He felt a malicious delight. Even though he was the prisoner, he was still squarely in control.
"Come to bring me tea?" he asked, baiting her with his amused tone, "Or maybe you'd prefer to read me the obituaries, I hear they are particularly interesting this week."
Her hands tightened, sliding towards her hips where her pistols normally sat, removed so that she could enter the detention block. Her hands were closed in frustration, her knuckles white, sitting at her side.
"I am going to kill you," she snarled, the rage in her eyes hardening into resolve.
"No, I don't think so," Evans replied with a self-satisfied smirk, "Your bleeding heart liberal Archduke will hardly authorize an execution, and I sincerely doubt they are going to give you an opportunity while I am in here." He stretched out on the bed, his hands behind his head. "Don't worry though, I am sure you'll have ample opportunity to try to assassinate me once they release me from here."
"You're delusional," Major Malone spat, "They'll never release you from this hole. You're going to rot here."
"Am I?" Evans smiled, "Do you really think I'd surrender myself, if I didn't have a plan? The question is, Major, whether or not you're smart enough to figure it out before it's too late." He leaned around, propping himself up on his hand. "But the last time you tried, you lost your husband. This time I might just take your son from you."
* * *
He'd grown up in that fortress; he'd explored every stone. There was a time when he thought he'd never leave it, destined to be nothing more than a puppet ruler for the pirate barons and their council. A drunk, whiling away his time, his only responsibility producing an heir to carry on the farce.
Yet there he sat, ruler of an interstellar Empire, sending men to fight a hopeless battle against overwhelming odds to protect his people.
He stood, his arms folded, staring down over the city beneath him, bathed in the blanket of fresh snow that had fallen during the day. Ships were lifting off from the starport at the far edge of the city, vessels packed full of desperate men and women setting off to fight for a cause they believed in. Those who chose to remain behind were forming a militia to protect their world, safeguarding the families of the brave souls who set off to the front.
It was the moment they had all been dreading since the onset of the war, an all-out Amsus invasion. Newly liberated Imperial colonies on the far side of the gate would fall. Walker was under no illusions about the strength of the Imperial forces; a quarter the strength of VonGrippen's missing fleet had been activated, but they simply didn't have the men or the ships to hold the lines. He prayed they would be able to hold Sentinel.
He stepped away from the window, scratching his beard as he returned to his private suite. His father had pressed upon him an education in history, long hours spent learning the lessons of the fallen empire, and of the struggle to survive its aftermath.
The body of Edward still troubled him.
While he had staved off a potential disaster, with Colonel Ramsey willingly returning Karin to him - surprising, given Walker's expectations - there was still the ever-present danger of the resurrected Empire falling into the patterns of the old one. He half -considered ordering the body burned, but the riot that would cause would destroy everything.
His hope lay in the Senate. With the restoration of the Senate, sanity could return to the populace. Once order was restored, they could all find a way forward that wouldn't see them falling to disaster. Given, of course, that they survived the Amsus.
That brought him around to another train of thought. Collapsing into his favourite winged chair, he stared at the flickering flames in the hearth. He had to find a way to get a message to Taine; he owed the man at least the news of what had happened to his...
No, Walker owed him more than he could ever repay. He owed Darien some good news, but teetering on the razor thin edge above total disaster, good news was a precious commodity and hard to come by.
Edward had been a surprising young man... Elias... Walker wasn't sure who lay in the chapel. Either or both, it didn't matter. The young man had been remarkable, defeating Iver and restoring even a little hope. And Walker hoped that the boy would survive. His doctors had examined the body, telling him that it was a refined bloodroot poison, powerful, and there was no known antidote. The boy was left in a state of perpetual slumber, hovering at death's door, neither completely dead, nor completely alive.
The Emperor had supposedly been the only man to ever survive bloodroot poisoning.
Walker blew a long sigh as he scooped up a decanter from a small table beside his chair, pouring himself a drink, rolling the crystal tumbler between his thumb and forefinger, staring at the amber liquid that swirled around the inside of the glass.
It would be so easy...
He licked his lips, remembering the taste, closing his eyes as he rested the glass against his forehead.
It had been the only way he could survive the pirate barons, drowning away his sorrows. But his people needed him, Taine trusted him, and somehow Walker had found the man he was supposed to be beneath the alcohol.
He set the glass down slowly, staring at it long into the night.
* * *
Caldone awoke, opening his eyes and looking at the white lab around him, feeling the weight of the body that had collapsed across him. He clutched his head, sucking a tight breath through his teeth as he sat upright, feeling through the haze that shrouded his thoughts and struggling to get to his feet.
He sank a little against the edge of the table, bending forward to keep steady, his hand running over his brow as he moved towards the door, stepping over the corpse and struggling with each step.
He instinctually knew that he would be all right. The blending of the gift he had been given was hard on the body, but with mental discipline he would be able to control it. He knew what Rikard knew, understood and accepted it. The other price of the gift he had been given was complete submission to the will of his master.
He was a tool, an extension of his master's will who would carry out faithful service in a place that would have been otherwise inaccessible to Rikard. Rikard's state of near-transcendence had its benefits as well as its limitations, one of which was the damnable fusion of his spirit with flesh; however, that law was not as restrictive as his designers had intended. Rikard, like any of humanity's creations, had learned to adapt. The natural law said he had to be bound to flesh, but it didn't say what flesh.
Rikard had seen fit to remove such restrictions from his creations. The third generation transcendents were the pinnacle of his scientific career and his key to a perfect order.
Caldone exited the labs, straightening as he walked, adjusting his small round glasses, listening to the alarms resounding somewhere. The Imperial forces had arrived to purge the tower of anyone still loyal to General Iver's lost cause. They would meet a token resistance before Caldone ordered their surrender, making sure to use it to secure his place in the new Karin hierarchy. He had work to do, preparations to make.
* * *
The last shuttle, a lone gunship on the upper platform of the Imperial Fortress, was powering up, Captain Zoran waiting patiently one foot on the ramp, a hand gripping the rail as he watched his newest officer saying his final goodbyes to his mother.
Midshipman Luther Malone gave his mother a reassuring smile as he tried to salute her, his hand pressed flat against his forehead, palm outward, his eyes going cross-eyed as he smiled. So much like his father had been, alive with life, and refusing to be beaten down by the fear and worry that surrounded him.
"I love you mom," he said softly.
Major Malone didn't bother with the salute; she drew her boy into her arms, embracing him for all she was worth, fighting the tears. She knew that serving with the VonGrippen forces aboard the Anger of Hades was safer for him than remaining on Karin where Evans could reach him.
"Promise me you'll stay safe," she murmured, swallowing down her pain, and fighting the urge to change her mind. She'd made Zoran swear he would protect her boy, a promise the fierce woman had every intention of ensuring he kept.
"I promise," Luther swore solemnly, "I'll make you proud of me..."
"I am," she said, adjusting the edges of his uniform, reaching up to undo his blood flap for him, bearing the mustard yellow in the twighlight, "I am."
He nodded at her, hugging her one last time as he scooted up the ramp into the shuttle. Old Zoran flashed her one final reassuring look as he climbed aboard, the former Pirate Baron smiling at her grimly as the ramp closed. The shuttle roared skywards to link up with the flagship of the Imperial fleet going to Sentinel.
Watching the twin vapour trails heading into the night sky, Major Malone offered her own prayers for their safe return.