Graveyard of Empires Page 4

  He finished drafting the message on his communication terminal. He let out a long breath of air and leaned back in his chair, torn. If he sent this, he would be committed to following it through. There was no going back. If the Captain decided to take the message straight to the Minister, then Argus would be murdered, and his daughter would likely be tortured anyway.

  But if the Captain liked his proposal…

  Argus reached out gingerly and hit the ‘send’ key on his terminal. This is either the cleverest decision I’ve ever made.

  Or the worst.

  4

  “What now?” Vivian asked.

  Wade was in a good mood. They were only an hour from receiving launch clearance and things were falling into place. He hadn’t received a reply from his message to Denigen’s Fist, but he was almost certain what the response would be. It was an insane proposal, but brilliant; any Captain would be thrilled to have someone so young aboard their ship.

  Envoys were considered the Captain’s equal and many members of the crew deferred to them because of the spiritual aspect of their station. They represented God’s might aboard a ship. A six-year-old girl would pose no threat to the Captain’s authority.

  The Captain would accept his proposal and his daughter would be safe. The Minister wouldn’t even have reason to look into her parentage because it would be the Captain submitting the request for the girl. Argus’s name wouldn’t be on any of the paperwork.

  Sure, it might be strange for the Captain to request someone so young, but once she was aboard Denigen’s Fist she would be outside the Minister’s reach. She and Argus would be safe.

  Most important, she would never be beaten or tortured, and she would never receive one of those God-awful implants. She could live a normal life like little girls were supposed to.

  Well, mostly normal.

  “Now we travel to Sector Six. We’ll make a stop at Terminus along the way for supplies, and we should be there within a few weeks.”

  “What kind of supplies?” Vivian asked. “I thought we were fully stocked?”

  “Machinery and equipment. The people in Sector Six are living in the past. They will pay a fortune for new tech.”

  “Or they will kill us and take it,” Vivian said.

  “That’s why you’re here,” Argus said. “I make deals, you keep me safe, and Jeremiah preaches on behalf of the Ministry. Everyone wins!”

  “Everyone?” Vivian said coolly. “What about your daughter? What happens when you get back?”

  “It’s taken care of,” Argus said.

  Vivian narrowed her eyes.

  “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I’m not going to do anything. But there is a very good chance that the oncoming Captain of Denigen’s Fist will put a request in for a new Envoy in the next few weeks.”

  Vivian stared at Wade.

  “Stop looking at me like that.”

  “The Minister will kill you.”

  “Maybe,” Wade said. “But he won’t be able to kill her.”

  Vivian hesitated. “No, he won’t, but you’ll still be dead.”

  “And I’m okay with that,” Argus said. “When you have kids, you’ll understand.”

  “You mean ‘if.’”

  “I mean ‘when,’” Wade said, smirking. “Besides, if things work out how I think they will, no one will ever know what happened anyway. I’m not really planning on dying because of this.”

  Vivian shrugged. “No one ever does.”

  “Have you spoken to the new pilot yet?”

  “Not yet,” Vivian replied.

  Wade nodded and headed out the door. The ship was sleek and compact and impeccably clean. He’d purchased it a few months ago using Ministry funds for these sort of missions, and he was careful to ensure it was only assigned to missions he was participating in. He technically didn’t own the ship, but he’d be damned if anyone else was going to be allowed to use it.

  “Something else,” Wade said. “Do you mind bringing the Cudgel as well?”

  “My ship?” Vivian asked. “Why?”

  “We are bringing a lot of soldiers because its new territory. and I want to be sure—”

  “You want more cargo space,” she said, making a tsk-ing sound and shaking her head. “It’s all about profit to you.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Would you prefer I lie? I’ll give almost all of the money we make to the Ministry, so it’s for the benefit of everyone.”

  “You’re something else.”

  “Does that mean you’ll do it?”

  “Fine.”

  He nodded. “Good, I’ll send one of the pilots over—”

  “No way,” she said. “I’ll fly my own ship.”

  “Fair enough,” he said. He clicked open the door to the cockpit. A man in his late twenties to early thirties was sitting at the controls. He had wavy brown hair and round cheeks.

  “Oh,” the man said, jumping up from the chair and standing at attention. “Uh…sir.”

  Argus laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Sir? No one calls me sir. Call me Argus.”

  “All right,” the man said.

  “And you are?”

  “Jack. Jack Lane. I’m the pilot.”

  “I think that last detail was implied.”

  Jack didn’t seem to have a good answer.

  “Where’s the other one?”

  “He’s, uh…sleeping, sir. I mean Argus. In his bunk.”

  Argus nodded. “Are you ready to fly this thing?”

  “I believe so. I’ve never been trained on anything this advanced, but I think I understand the controls. The autopilot will do most of the work, I’m just here in case of a malfunction or abnormality.”

  “And you are our guide?”

  “Sir?”

  “You grew up in Sector Six before moving to the Core.”

  “Yes,” Jack said. “But it’s been many years.”

  “What should we expect?”

  “There are several planets, loosely connected under a Royal Family. Geid and Eldun are farming planets, but Eldun isn’t politically stable. Geid is where I grew up. Most of the crops are shipped off of that world to feed the Capital Planet, Jaril.”

  “Where would you recommend we start?”

  “Jaril might not let us land. They don’t like the Republic, and they sure as hell don’t like outside Religions. They will probably attack on sight if they know you are with the Ministry. But if you go somewhere else without at least checking in at Jaril then there could be consequences.”

  “Is there much travel between Jaril and Sector Four?”

  “Almost none,” Jack replied. “But the warp routes are fickle and many ships are lost each year. Too many stars in close proximity, so every few years the gravity changes and routes need to be adjusted. Most people just don’t risk it.”

  Argus nodded. It was what he was expecting. His government had never bothered to expand into Sector Six, marking it simply ‘uncharted territory’ on regional maps. It wasn’t worth the risk. Terminus was a small planet at the farthest edge of Sector Four, butting up against Sector Six.

  The problem was, they would need to fly close to Tellus if they were going to make it to Terminus. Tellus was where Darius was starting his little rebellion, and even though it wouldn’t pose a threat to the galaxy, it would certainly be a problem for Argus’s little ship.

  He doubted they would notice, though. Tellus was a backwater planet, rundown and old. They probably wouldn’t even have radars capable of detecting ships this small.

  “In general,” Jack said, “they pretty much hate the Republic back home. Especially on Jaril and Eldun. They consider us to be an Empire, expanding and stealing as we go. If they know where we come from…”

  Argus thought about it and then shrugged. “So we don’t tell them we’re from here. We’ll say we’re traders from Terminus. Won’t be a difficult disguise to pull off.”

  “Sounds go
od,” Jack agreed.

  “All right then,” Argus said, smiling in excitement. He slapped Jack on the shoulder. “Let’s head to Sector Six!”

  Chapter 2

  Sector 6 – Geid

  Argus Wade

  1

  Geid was a smaller planet than Argus was expecting.

  That wasn’t to say it was small but compared against Axis it was barely a dot. Argus touched his ship—the Hummingbird—down just outside one of the larger cities, Averton. A few seconds later the other ship traveling with him—the Cudgel—touched down as well. The Cudgel was Vivian’s personal ship, a little blocky merchant class vessel that had seen its fair share of wear and tear.

  Argus Wade found himself to be in high spirits as they traveled; the prospect of what he had done by sending his message to Denigen’s Fist was simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating: if he was caught, he would be killed, but if things went according to plan than he would be simultaneously saving his daughter and undermining the Minister, a man he hated more than most others.

  They were landing in a parking lot of an abandoned robotics factory, so it would be a significant walk to meet his clients in the city. Averton had a population of just under five hundred thousand with a median age of forty-two.

  “We are cleared to land, right?” Argus asked. It wasn’t his first time asking the question.

  “Yes,” Jack said, “we are cleared.”

  Jack had grown more comfortable around Argus during the trip, and Argus found him to be good company despite being stiff and unassuming. They disembarked from the ship and headed out to meet Vivian, exiting her own vessel.

  The air reeked. Agricultural planets often smelled terrible, and Geid was no exception. Argus found himself gagging as he stepped off the landing platform and covered his mouth with the back end of his shirt.

  He heard a chuckle from nearby and shot a glare at Vivian.

  “This is not bad,” she said.

  “It smells like manure,” Argus replied.

  She shrugged. “There are worse things. Lower your shirt before you offend someone. The smell will pass.”

  “You mean I’ll get used to it,” Argus said. But he did drop the edge of his shirt back down. The smell made him gag again, but he forced his mind to ignore it. “I’ll get used to having little flakes of fecal material stuck in my nasal cavities. That is so reassuring.”

  “Better than flakes of dead people,” Vivian said softly. Argus looked at her incredulously.

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “Just perspective. No matter how bad things are, they can always be worse.”

  Argus just stared at her. “You are quite the ray of sunshine, aren’t you?”

  Jeremiah cleared his throat, drawing their attention. They were all dressed like civilians from the region (courtesy of Jack Lane, their pilot) and looked out of sorts in the loose fitting brown clothing. Especially Jeremiah: he was a man in his late fifties and had never worn anything outside of his customary Ministerial robes.

  Jeremiah had shaved his head and applied a glossy substance that gave it an extra sheen. That had taken him about an hour’s worth of preparation. Vivian had done up her raven hair in a bun, which had taken nearly as long. Wade’s hair had that ruffled look of someone who’d just gotten out of bed; that had taken him almost three hours to prepare, though his hair was receding more than he’d remembered.

  “We need to get moving,” Jeremiah reminded them. “We have many people to speak to and not a lot of time.”

  Then, the short bald man turned and strode toward Averton. Vivian and Argus exchanged a glance and then followed. They decided to keep the soldiers on board the Hummingbird, at least for now. They didn’t want to draw extra attention: as hard as it would be for them to fit in, having twenty soldiers walking by their side would make it impossible.

  Plus, Geid was supposed to be a peaceful planet, so soldiers shouldn’t be necessary. Worst case scenario, Wade had Vivian to protect him.

  “Here,” he said, handing her a stack of pamphlets.

  “What are these for?” she asked.

  “You give them to people and they read them. Then they give them to other people who also read them.”

  “I mean why are we passing out pamphlets? Did Jeremiah make these?”

  “No, I did,” Argus said. “Seemed like the easiest way to do our job without having to talk to people. I offered Jeremiah some but he didn’t seem interested.”

  “He doesn’t trust you,” Vivian said.

  Argus affected being hurt. “He doesn’t? How could he possibly not?”

  “He thinks you make a mockery of his religion,” Vivian replied.

  Wade shrugged. “I never asked to join the Ministry. Hell, they never asked me either. My life is just trying to make the best of a bad situation.”

  “And I don’t judge you for that. But it’s clear you don’t care much about the Ministry or Jeremiah’s God.”

  “Why do you say that?” Argus said, miffed. “I don’t think it’s clear at all that I don’t believe.”

  “This is a missionary trip,” Vivian explained, “and you made pamphlets.”

  Wade narrowed his eyes. “What’s wrong with pamphlets?”

  “Nothing,” said Vivian, “if you are trying to dilute your religion down to the equivalent of a travel destination. This is a missionary trip, Wade. We have a very specific purpose, and a true believer would find your pamphlets offensive. Jeremiah won’t object, of course. The Word of God is the Word, and any method of spreading it is worthwhile. But he is still offended.”

  “I don’t get it. Why?”

  Vivian sighed. “The fact that you don’t get it is why Jeremiah will never trust you.”

  Argus frowned and looked at the picture of smiling people on the cover of his little booklet. “The Minister thought my pamphlets were an excellent idea.”

  “Exactly,” Vivian said, then she hurried to catch up to Jeremiah. Argus trailed behind, even more confused. Enormous crop fields flanked the road on both sides, recently harvested and stretching into the distance. They passed the occasional copse of trees that hadn’t been cut down for farmland.

  Wade pulled one of the pamphlets out of his satchel and frowned down at the glossy cover.

  “There is nothing wrong with pamphlets.”

  He stuffed it back into his bag and rushed to catch up.

  Chapter 3

  Sector 6 - Geid

  Traq Lane

  1

  “Stupid head!”

  It was the cleverest thing Traq could think of to say, but his harsh words were greatly diminished by the giant grin on his face. He wasn’t mad; he rarely got mad at his friend, but Everett wasn’t playing fair.

  Traq wielded a curved and gnarly stick with both hands and chased after his blonde friend, swinging wildly in the air and laughing. He wasn’t quite as fast as he wanted to be on his stubby five-year-old legs.

  Everett was only two years older than Traq but almost twice as big in height and girth. Traq had just passed his fifth birthday a few weeks earlier but was small for his age. He didn’t know that, though. He didn’t, in fact, know a lot of kids his own age at all. Everett was one of his few friends.

  Everett giggled as he dodged around an oak, waving his own stick in the air behind him and breathless.

  “You aren’t fast enough!” Everett taunted.

  “That’s because you cheat!” Traq said, stopping and panting. “Heroes never run away!”

  Everett stopped and turned to face his opponent, grinning. “Heroes always run away from scary aliens. Especially scary aliens that look like you.”

  And with that, Everett turned and fled again. Traq took off after him, but with his shorter stride, he couldn’t catch up. Frustrated, he threw his stick at Everett, watching it hit the dirt and bounce twice well short of his enemy.

  Everett stopped running, rotating slowly to face Traq with a grin on his seven-year-old face.


  “And now the scary alien doesn’t have a weapon!”

  So it was Traq’s turn to flee, weaving through the towering pines and firs to ward off his pursuer.

  His charge scared up a woodland bird. It squawked angrily and burst out of its brush hiding place. Traq dodged to the side with a shout and kept running.

  A light breeze whispered through the trees, tasting of pine and amber.

  They were in a copse of old trees and thin underbrush roughly a kilometer outside Averton, but their imaginations had drawn them far away. They’d declared this kilometer of territory to be an empty and forgotten world; the perfect location to stage their galactic battle of good against evil.

  Traq ducked around another oak, bark and sap sticking to his brown tunic. He was hoping to spot another sufficiently long stick on the ground he could use as a sword. Most were too small, and the only one he found of the proper size immediately broke.

  He could feel Everett gaining ground as he burst out of the woods and into a recently harvested crop field.

  2

  It was the middle of summer, yet Kelvin was restless. No, ‘restless’ wasn’t the right word. Frustrated, was. ‘Annoyed’ fit too, but he wasn’t annoyed with anything in particular. Just…life.

  The glow of the bright midday sun warmed the woodlands outside of Averton to uncomfortable levels, but a light breeze rolled over the hills to cool it back off. They were walking in the shade alongside a wooded area. The leaves to the boy’s left and stalks of grain to his right danced gently as the wind whistled past. It was one of the many sunny days of the season, reminding people why Geid was renowned for its simple beauty.

  Remy walked to Kelvin’s left and Scott on the right, the former out of breath and the latter practically bursting with energy. Remy had finally stopped ranting and complaining a few minutes earlier. His rasping voice had been replaced by the soothing sounds of nature around them. But Kelvin knew it was only a temporary lull.

  There was always a lot for Remy to complain about.

  “You should have held on better,” Remy suddenly repeated for the fifteenth time. He eyed his little brother sharply. Scott lowered his gray eyes toward the ground for a brief moment and then shrugged.