Terrible Shadow, Part 9

Embamor Etralis was standing on the balcony outside of his quarters in the Imperial Palace. From where he was standing, he had a fantastic view of the city of Selorin, the capital city of the Trisitanian Empire. Selorin was an ancient but vibrant city. Selorin was born along with the Empire itself, founded by the first Emperor, Malador, in the aftermath of the titanic struggle known as the First War. Selorin had been the heart of the Empire since the very beginning, when the Empire encompassed no more than the planet of Trisitania itself. Everywhere General Etralis looked, brand-new technological and architectural masterpieces like the 220-story Trident Center intermingled with ancient and venerable buildings like the Senate Hall and the Hall of Lords. For all his cynicism and apathy, the skyline of Selorin was a sight that never ceased to amaze him.

The building that occupied most of his attention was the Senate Hall, for obvious reasons. The deliberations for choosing the new Emperor had begun several hours ago, and were expected to last for a few weeks. Every candidate was given the opportunity to make his or her case to the Senate, and there were no time limits on how long candidates could speak. Once a full round of speeches was finished, the Senate would decide whether or not to move on to voting on the candidates. If a majority of senators voted not to move on, each candidate would give another speech. If a majority of the senators did vote to move on, each senator would then cast a vote for their preferred candidate. Once all the votes were tallied, the candidate with the least votes would be removed from consideration, and the cycle would begin again, until there was only one candidate left.

This process had been consciously designed to be very deliberate. The last time the throne had been vacant, there were no set principles in place to choose a new Emperor, aside from the law that said the Senate was to do the choosing. The result was that no candidate received a majority of the votes, and the two leading candidates ended up going to war to decide the matter. Ever since then, the Senate had been determined to make sure such a result was no longer possible. There would be no ambiguity over who won this election.

General Etralis had a live feed set up so he could view the deliberations from the comfort of the Palace, but he wasn’t particularly interested in listening to speeches. He didn’t need to make up his mind about who he wanted to win. He was afraid that he had backed the wrong horse, though. Hesha Vorlan’s support had grown under his influence, but not nearly enough to overtake Shayban Drahzen’s. He had known the risks though. The best case scenario if he’d supported Drahzen was that he’d maintain what he already had. By supporting Vorlan, he had a chance to gain so much more. And if she lost, then he would retire. That wouldn’t be such a terrible prospect at this point in his life.

These thoughts were swirling in his head when he realized that something was wrong. He felt a strange sensation, almost as if reality itself was being twisted and warped. He stared at the Senate Hall, because that’s where the sensation seemed to be emanating from. Suddenly, he realized that something was indeed very wrong. The Senate Hall was collapsing.

He stared at the sight of the massive and ancient building crumbling into dust with his mouth hanging wide open. Then there was a blinding flash, and he closed his eyes and threw up his arm to shield himself. A split second later, he was thrown backwards into his bedroom as a massive shockwave erupted from the Senate Hall. His head bounced off the floor as he landed, but fortunately the impact was softened by the thick carpet that covered the floor. He lay there for a second, blind and deaf from the explosion, and slowly shook his head to clear it. Then, as sight and hearing returned to him, he slowly got up and moved back toward the balcony.

What he saw appalled him. The Senate Hall was gone. In its place was a massive crater, and a gigantic mushroom cloud billowing up over the city. The buildings surrounding where the Hall had been were severely damaged as well. In fact, the Trident Center, the second tallest building on the planet, after the Imperial Palace itself, looked as if it were in danger of collapsing. Etralis stood there, shocked and appalled by the devastation, for several minutes, unable to process what was going on.

Just then, Lieutenant Ven Aganar rushed into his quarters. He ran up to the General, and then stopped, staring in horror at the same sight that had Etralis immobilized. Then he shook his head and looked up at Etralis.

“General Etralis!” he said, saluting, “The Legion of the Heart awaits your orders!” Etralis just stood there, staring in numb horror at the mushroom cloud that towered even over the Imperial Palace itself. Finally, after a long moment, he slowly turned to face Aganar and just stared at him.

“Sir?” Aganar said, tentatively, “Do you have any orders, sir?” But the General didn’t respond. He couldn’t respond. His brain was paralyzed by the shock of what he’d just witnessed. Aganar just stood there, feeling ever more foolish with every passing moment. Finally, he decided to take the initiative.

“Do you want the Legion to sweep the Palace and make sure there aren’t any more bombs hidden here?” he asked. The General continued to stare at him, and then, painfully slowly, he nodded his head once. Aganar quickly saluted and rushed out of the room, unsure whether he was more eager to get away from the sight of the ruined Senate Hall or the sight of the shell-shocked General.

Etralis went back to staring at the mushroom cloud after Aganar left. There were no thoughts in his addled brain. Everything in his world had just been turned completely upside down. He had no frame of reference for dealing with a tragedy like this, so he did nothing but stare at it.

After about a half an hour, a thought did occur to him. He turned away from the apocalyptic scene in front of him, went to his dresser, and pulled out his trusty flask of whiskey. Then he took a long, deep drink from it, and went and sat in his favorite plush recliner. And there he sat, staring at the mushroom cloud and waiting to see if any other thoughts came to him.

To be continued…

Terrible Shadow, Part 8

Ahsken Lorovic stood up slowly, with his hands over his head. Shen Lodoria followed his lead. Both of them had dropped their guns on the floor. Several of the ISS officers with Dren Folmor rushed over and pushed them up against the wall and began searching through their pockets.

“Found it!” called out one of them as he pulled the detonator out of Lorovic’s coat pocket.

“Good, good,” Folmor responded, rubbing his chubby hands together, “Well, that’s one crisis taken care of. Really, Lorovic, what in the world were you thinking? Did you really think you could blow up the Senate Hall without anyone noticing? You’re either stupid or crazy. Or both.”

“How did you find out?” Lorovic said calmly. The ISS officers had let him go, but they made sure to keep their assault rifles trained on him, in case he tried anything.

“Oh, it was pretty easy, actually,” Folmor replied with a greasy chuckle, “You’ve always played the straight man around here, but you’ve never been afraid to get your hands dirty with politics when you needed to. Except in the past few days, you haven’t. You didn’t show up for our meeting about keeping Senator Drahzen off of the throne, and then I heard that Drahzen asked you to keep some senators out of the Hall this morning, and you said you would, and you didn’t. That seemed odd to me, cause for all of your failings, you’ve always been a man of your word, so I decided to do some digging. I noticed that you had changed the security code on this storage closet that hasn’t been used in 500 years, so I decided to get some men together and come down here and see what was going on. It was just a happy coincidence that we arrived about the same time as you did.”

“It certainly seems as if you took care of every detail, Folmor,” Lorovic said, his voice still perfectly calm. “You did miss one important thing, though.”

“Oh yeah?” Folmor asked with a sneer, “What’s that?” Lorovic took a deep breath. He didn’t want to have to do this, but he had no choice. His orders had been crystal clear. Detonating the bomb took precedence over all other considerations, even his own life and the lives of his men. He fixed Folmor with an iron stare, and Folmor involuntarily took a step back, despite the fact that Lorovic was unarmed and he had twenty men with assault rifles pointed at him.

Suddenly, Lorovic lunged forward with his hands outstretched, acting like he was going for Folmor’s throat. Before he made it more than a few steps, several assault rifles fired, and Lorovic collapsed, his body riddled with bullets. Lodoria cried out, ran to Lorovic and knelt down beside him. He picked up Lorovic’s head and cradled it in his arms. Lorovic was still alive, but barely. His breath came in wheezing gasps, and when he opened his mouth to speak, it came out in a whisper that everybody in the room had to strain to hear.

“The important detail you missed,” he struggled to say, “is that the bomb is linked to my biometrics. The moment I die, that bomb will go off.” There was a stunned silence from the ISS officers, and then Lorovic looked right at Lodoria, who had tears streaming down his face. “Sergeant, you know what to do.” Lodoria nodded, and then, before anyone could stop him, he grasped Lorovic’s head and swiftly broke his neck.

***

Senator Shayban Drahzen was in a better mood now, but only slightly. Things could still go against him, and badly, but the overall vibe in the vast and extravagant Senate Hall seemed to be trending in favor of his election. Hesha Vorlan gave a long, impassioned speech about freedom and justice and other vaguely positive things, but its main effect seemed to be to bore everyone present. Another candidate, the provincial governor of Parnora, was giving a speech now, but hardly anyone was paying attention to her. Everyone there knew that the throne would be won by either Drahzen or Vorlan. The other candidates were basically just going through the motions.

Suddenly, Drahzen felt an odd sensation, a sort of warping or tearing, as if the very fabric of reality was being ripped apart. A confused look came over his face, and, looking around the Hall, he noticed that other people seemed to be sensing it as well. The governor’s speech faltered, and she fell silent, but nobody seemed to notice, as they were all looking around, trying to figure out what was going on.

The only sound in the Hall was the low rumble of thousands of people talking quietly, asking each other if they felt the same thing. Then, one by one, everyone in the Hall fell silent, as they began to realize that there was another sound, low at first but quickly growing in volume. This sound was a different kind of rumbling, almost like an earthquake, but not quite.

All of a sudden, the sound got much louder, and the walls began to crumble. Immediately, everyone in the Hall realized that something very bad was happening, and full scale panic set in. Almost everyone gathered jumped out of their seats and began scrambling for the exits, pushing and shoving and crushing each other in their desperation to escape the dying Hall.

The one exception was Shayban Drahzen. Several years ago, as a member of the Military Appropriations Committee, he had been present at a test of a Nexus rupturing bomb. The warping feeling he was experiencing right now was the same that he had felt then. It was the sensation of the Nexus, the very lifeforce of the universe, being torn apart. He hadn’t recognized it at first, because it had been so long, but once the walls started to collapse, he knew what was going on.

There was no escape. He sat stoically in his seat because there was no reason to do anything else. All he could think was that all of his hard work, all of his sweat, his tears, the people whose lives and careers he had destroyed to further his own plans, everything he had done to sit on the Imperial Throne, was for nothing. He had failed at the one great ambition of his life. He thought he would be angry about that, but strangely, in this moment, waiting for death, it didn’t really seem to matter.

To be continued…

Terrible Shadow, Part 7

“All is ready, Captain,” said Shen Lodoria. He was Ahsken Lorovic’s chief assistant, both in the ISS and in Fangalin. He was in his early 30s, and short, with close-cropped black hair and a short mustache. Despite his lack of height, there wasn’t an ounce of fat on his frame. He moved like a leopard, quick and powerful. His family had been close to Lorovic’s for many years, and their relationship was akin to father-and-son, despite the fact that they were fairly close in age.

“Excellent, Lieutenant,” Lorovic replied, returning Lodoria’s salute. They were in Lorovic’s office in the Senate Hall. All morning long, Lorovic had been getting ready to leave his office for the last time. He had to leave most of his things behind, because it would be too suspicious if he cleaned out his office, but he had managed to pack a few small, especially meaningful items. Strangely, even though his position was just a cover, he felt like he would miss this office once it was gone. He’d been Director of Security for the Senate for five years, and aside from the politics, he’d enjoyed the work. But it was time to move on to bigger and better things.

He stood up and motioned for Lodoria to follow him. It was time to leave. He would go down to the lower levels and arm the bomb, and then once he and the other Fangalin officers on duty in the Senate Hall were clear of the blast radius, he would detonate it. Then he and his fellow officers would leave Trisitania in a ship that was equipped with override codes to get them past the planetary defenses. They would then go to Fangalin space, their role in the opening salvo of the war complete. All over the Empire, Fangalin agents were preparing to seize provinces and military units as soon as the Senate was destroyed. It was Lorovic’s job to set that in motion.

The bomb itself was located in an unused storage closet deep beneath the Hall. It had been fairly easy to find a storage closet that wasn’t recorded anywhere. The Senate Hall was over a thousand years old, and massive. There was a vast labyrinth of corridors and storage rooms underneath it, much of which had been forgotten over the past millennium. Lorovic had little reason to suspect that anyone would ever see, much less enter the closet where the bomb was located, but to make sure, he had changed the security code on the closet door to something that only he knew.

He and Lodoria reached the closet, where two ISS officers/Fangalin operatives were standing guard. Both of them were dressed in full battle armor, and armed with assault rifles. Lorovic had no intention of allowing anyone who wasn’t part of Fangalin into that closet. One of the guards saluted Lorovic as he approached.

“Everything is ready, Captain,” the guard said.

“Very good, Sergeant,” Lorovic responded, returning the guard’s salute. It felt good to finally be using their true ranks. Technically, they were still supposed to be using their ISS titles, for security purposes, but Lorovic and his men were anxious for the charade to be over, and besides, in a couple of hours it wouldn’t matter anymore.

Lorovic and Lodoria entered the closet, where there were two more heavily armed soldiers standing guard. As a security precaution, the bomb had to be armed manually, and only Lorovic had the code to do it. In addition, once it was armed, it could only be detonated with a remote detonator, which was in one of Lorovic’s coat pockets. Once arming the bomb, if Lorovic was captured, he had orders to detonate it immediately, no matter what the circumstances.

The bomb itself was gigantic, as befit a bomb with enough power to completely destroy one of the largest and oldest buildings in the galaxy. It was a type of bomb called a Nexus rupturing bomb. The Nexus was the energy that held the universe together. It was infinite and all-pervasive. A Nexus rupturing bomb was designed to exactly what its name indicated: disrupt and unravel the Nexus itself, leading to destructive power on a catastrophic scale. This bomb was just powerful enough to destroy the Senate Hall, but it was theoretically possible to build one with enough power to obliterate an entire planet. Such an awful weapon had never actually been constructed, though.

All he had to do to arm the bomb was punch in a passcode, and in a few seconds, it was done. He felt in his coat pocket for the detonator. Soon, he thought to himself. All 336 senators were in the Senate Hall now, as well as their aides and much of their staffs. In addition, most of the leaders of the Imperial bureaucracy were in the Hall, and most of the top military officers, and several provincial governors. Once the bomb went off, all of those people would be dead.

He stood up and turned to leave, but just as he reached the door, the sound of gunfire could be heard from outside. He quickly gestured to the men with him, and they just as quickly took cover with their assault rifles aimed at the door. He and Lodoria ducked down behind a pile of rubbish and pulled out their sidearms.

After a few seconds, the gunfire ceased, and the door slid open. Lorovic’s heart sank. As he was the only person who knew the code for this room, there was no way that somebody ranked lower than him would be able to open it. But somebody of a higher rank could override the code. As soon as the door opened, there was a deafening roar of gunfire, and both of the guards in the room quickly died. There was the sound of many feet rushing into the room, and then Lorovic’s suspicions were confirmed.

“Well, well, well,” said Dren Folmor, Master of the ISS, “I thought you were up to no good, Lorovic, but a bomb? Fascinating. This news will be very interesting to Senator Drahzen. He might even promote me for unmasking a traitor. This is turning out to be a very good day after all.”

To be continued…

Terrible Shadow, Part 6

Ahsken Lorovic was sitting on the couch in his apartment when the phone rang. He had been trying to concentrate on some documents relating to his cover job, but was having a hard time attaching any meaning or importance to them. It was several hours after he should have gone to bed, but he was having trouble sleeping, too. Any day, he would be able to commence Operation Thunderclap, and he was getting excited, but also nervous. He didn’t expect that anything would go wrong, but he knew there was no such thing as a perfect plan.

“Yes?” he said after picking up his phone.

“Director Lorovic, this is Senator Drahzen,” said the voice on the other end of the line. Lorovic rolled his eyes. Politics again.

“Yes, Senator,” he responded, “What can I do for you, sir?”

“Director, I just received word about ten minutes ago that the Empress has passed away,” Drahzen said.

“I’m sorry to hear that, sir,” Lorovic said, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice.

“Indeed,” Drahzen said, clearly not upset at all, “Now, I am aware that you will be very busy preparing your staff for tomorrow’s session, but I need you to do me a favor.” Lorovic frowned, and responded with a noncommittal grunt, which the Senator clearly took for agreement. “I’ve sent you a list of certain senators. It would be very beneficial for me if those senators were somehow barred from the Senate Hall tomorrow, even if only for a few hours. I’m sure that, as Director of Security, you would be able to come up with some way to keep them out, at least temporarily.”

“I will make sure to do that, sir,” Lorovic responded. He spoke in a neutral tone, but in reality he was disgusted and appalled by Drahzen’s tactics. For the past five years, he had been witness to all kinds of corrupt political practices, but he had never managed to get used to it.

“Very good,” Drahzen said, “Now, of course I don’t expect you to do this without getting something in return. So I promise you that, once I am Emperor, you will be promoted to Master of the ISS. Assuming, of course, that you carry out the task I’ve assigned you.”

“I understand, sir,” Lorovic said, still carefully keeping any hint of his true feelings out of his voice.

“Of course you do,” Drahzen said, “You’re a smart man.” And with that, the line went dead.

Lorovic felt like vomiting, but at the same time he felt elated. He had been witness to these sorts of crude and corrupt political practices throughout his entire career in the ISS, and they were a major part of the reason why he was convinced of the rightness of his cause. He’d never doubted his faith in the Dark Presence and the Supreme Commander, but if he’d ever had even the slightest second thought about setting off a bomb that would kill thousands of people, tactics like those used by Senator Drahzen and others dispelled those thoughts. Such corruption needed to be purged.

Besides, the Empress was dead. It was time to put Operation Thunderclap into effect. In the morning, the senators would start to gather in the Senate Hall for the first day of deliberations to choose a new Emperor. And once Lorovic was certain that all of them were in the Hall… Boom. Lorovic smiled, and then he chuckled to himself, and then his chuckles quickly turned into full-blown laughter. It was a strange sound coming from the normally stoic and reserved security officer, but he felt that it was justified, just this once.

***

The Senate Hall was buzzing with activity the next morning. Senator Shayban Drahzen was already in his seat, watching the rest of the senators file in with his customary small smile. Anyone looking at him sitting there would have thought he was perfectly calm and reserved, but in reality, his heart was racing and his palms were sweaty. He was both nervous and excited. Today was the beginning of the culmination of his life’s goals. He was so close to the Imperial Throne that he could almost feel its extravagant yet tasteful armrests under his hands.

He didn’t expect anything to go wrong, of course, but that didn’t mean nothing would. He was optimistic that Director Lorovic would uphold his end of their bargain. If Hesha and her closest supporters could be kept out of the Senate Hall, even for a few hours, Drahzen would be able to seize the initiative and bring her weaker supporters and those senators who were still undecided over to his side. If Lorovic was true to his word, then Drahzen would be able to surge ahead in the vote and build an insurmountable lead before Hesha would even be able to make her case. And if Lorovic didn’t come through…well, his career would be over.

Suddenly Drahzen frowned and sat up straighter. Hesha Vorlan and her cronies had just entered the Senate Hall and were making their way to their seats. He felt murderous rage boil up inside him, but a slight frown was the only indication on his face that he was upset. His hands clenched tightly as he fought to keep his countenance neutral. He would crush Lorovic. Even if he lost the election, he would make sure that Ahsken Lorovic’s career was over, plus he would throw him in prison! Nobody crossed Shayban Drahzen and got away with it.

With considerable effort, he forced himself to master his emotions. Ahsken Lorovic was a problem to be dealt with at a later date. For right now, he needed to focus on winning the election. Senator Vorlan’s presence was a problem, but he still would win the Senate’s support. In fact, having her here would actually make his ultimate victory even sweeter. It would be much more satisfying to humiliate her to her face than to do it behind her back. And once the throne was his, he could deal with all of his enemies at his leisure.

Slowly, the frown disappeared, to be replaced by the broadest smile anyone had ever seen on Senator Shayban Drahzen’s face.

To be continued…

Terrible Shadow, Part 5

Zhemeen Fortulis sat at his desk in the governor’s mansion on Numoris, gazing out of the giant window that took up the entire wall opposite his desk. The window gave Fortulis a spectacular view of Crez, the capital city of Numoris. Fortulis was not officially the governor of Numoris, but he ruled Numoris nonetheless. He was the Supreme Commander of Fangalin, and Fangalin had run Numoris in all but name for 300 years.

Fortulis was in his early 80s, but in remarkably good health for his age. He was short and round, with a small fringe of white hair around the edge of his otherwise bald head, but he moved and talked with an astonishing energy that belied his age and looks. He wasn’t moving or talking at all at the moment, though. He was thinking.

The news had come to Numoris two days ago that the Empress was on her deathbed. This was the news Fortulis had been waiting for ever since he was elected Supreme Commander by the High Council 40 years earlier. He had immediately contacted Ahsken Lorovic, Director of Security for the Imperial Senate and a loyal Fangalin officer, and ordered him to begin preparations for Operation Thunderclap. That was the code name that Fortulis had chosen for the plan to decapitate the Empire, a plan that had been in the works ever since it became obvious that Emella II was going to die without any heirs.

Destroying the Senate while they were deliberating on who should be the new Emperor would cripple the Empire. Without a Senate or an Emperor, the Empire would have no way to react to Fangalin’s offensive, and that, combined with the considerable penetration Fangalin had made into Imperial society, could lead to the war ending before it really got started. If all went according to plan, Zhemeen Fortulis would go down in history as the greatest Supreme Commander of Fangalin since Wellin Votara himself.

His thoughts were interrupted by the intercom buzzing. “Yes?” he said quietly.

“My Lord,” his aide answered, “We have received a message from Captain Lorovic.”

“Put it through,” Fortulis commanded. A hologram of Lorovic’s head appeared in front of Fortulis, hovering in mid-air.

“My Lord,” Lorovic began, “Preparations for Operation Thunderclap are complete.”

“Excellent,” Fortulis responded, “Make sure that you do not detonate the bomb until the full Senate has met.”

“Of course, my Lord,” Lorovic said with a nod, “I have also made sure that only people loyal to you and the Presence are assigned to the area where the bomb is hidden. There is no possibility of the heretics finding it.”

“Very good,” Fortulis said with a pleased smile, “You have done well, Captain. Your reward will indeed be great once the operation is a success.” Lorovic nodded again with a small smile, and Fortulis added, “You are dismissed.” The hologram of Lorovic’s head disappeared, and Fortulis sat back with a satisfied look on his face.

The Empire’s days were numbered now. The purity and strength of Fangalin’s faith would surely lead them to victory. The Dark Presence would once again reign over all Creation, and the rule of Fangalin would be glorious and eternal. And Zhemeen Fortulis would be remembered as the one who began it.

***

Shayban Drahzen was more displeased than he should have been. He was sitting at his desk in his office in Selorin, the capital of the Empire. He was a small man, with a round, clean-shaven face. He had short, brown, messy hair, and he wore small, round glasses. He was in his early 40s. He didn’t look the part of the most powerful Senator in the Empire, but that was part of his charm. His mild manner and easy-going personality made him more likable than the average politician, but at the moment, the small smile he usually wore on his face was replaced by a scowl.

The Empress’ condition was getting worse, and her doctors had just announced that she was unlikely to last through the night. Assuming they were correct, tomorrow the Senate would meet for the first time to deliberate on the question of who would become her successor. Every Senator in the Empire was already on Trisitania, waiting for the Empress to die so they could begin their most important duty. This should have been Shayban Drahzen’s ultimate moment of glory, the moment when House Drahzen ascended to the Imperial Throne. But already, before deliberations had even begun, he could feel the moment slipping away.

There were ten senators, three generals, two admirals, and four provincial governors who had all submitted their candidacy for the soon-to-be vacant throne. Considering that it had been over 400 years since the last time the throne was up for grabs, Drahzen was surprised that there weren’t more candidates. Anyone who wasn’t a senator, general, admiral or governor was automatically barred from consideration by Senate rules, but there were still hundreds of people who occupied those offices. The fact that more people didn’t apply was a testament to how assured Drahzen’s victory was. Or at least, had been.

Until a few days ago, none of the other candidates had had the slightest chance of winning the Senate’s approval. But somehow, within the past few days, Hesha Vorlan had begun stealing away votes that were previously Drahzen’s. Senator Vorlan had always been his bitterest rival, but until the last few days, he had never seen her as a credible threat to his ambitions.

He could see Embamor Etralis’ dirty fingers all over this development. Despite his drunkenness and laziness, that man had more connections and influence than anyone else in the Empire. No doubt he had decided that he would get more out of Vorlan’s election to the throne than he would out of Drahzen’s. Drahzen wondered what she had promised him to get his support.

In any case, it didn’t matter. Hesha Vorlan was deeply unpopular in the Senate, a result of her snobbish manner and elitist behavior. It would take more than Embamor Etralis and his cronies to stifle Shayban Drahzen’s ambitions. He had been working towards the throne for his entire life. When he was 13, it became obvious to him that it would become available in his lifetime. He had dedicated his life at that moment to becoming the next Emperor, and he was so close now. In just a few days, he would finally be able to achieve that which he’d spent his entire life working toward, and he would not allow a snob and a drunkard to rob him of that which was rightfully his.

Something would have to be done.

To be continued…

Terrible Shadow, Part 4

“So, General,” Senator Hesha Vorlan began, “To what do I owe the honor of this meeting?” The Senator was in her mid-fifties, and handsome rather than beautiful. She had straight black hair that fell to just above her shoulders, and a bold, almost hawk-like nose. She was well known as a patron of the arts, and her dinner parties attracted some of the most beautiful and intelligent people in the Empire.

On the other hand, General Embamor Etralis, to whom her question was directed, was crude and boorish, and exactly the sort of person whom Senator Vorlan did her best to avoid. Unfortunately, politics was a dirty business, and some of the most powerful people in the Empire were the very type who would never get an invitation to one of her dinner parties without that power.

“Well, Senator,” the General began with what Vorlan imagined was supposed to be an ingratiating smile, but really made him look as if he was ill, “I was hoping to have a discussion with you about the security arrangements for the upcoming coronation ceremony. After all, the Legion of the Heart will be responsible for those arrangements, and I would like to be able to begin planning now.”

“Of course, General,” she said with what she hoped was a more natural looking smile, “But what do you expect me to have to do with the coronation?” Etralis looked slightly surprised.

“Are you not making a bid for the throne, Senator?” he said.

“I am,” she responded, “But you and I both know that Senator Drahzen has all but locked up the Senate’s vote. I’m not afraid to admit that my chances of ascending to the throne are all but nonexistent.” General Etralis took another sip of wine and leaned back in his chair.

“Ah, my dear,” he said, “Nothing is set in stone until the Senate actually votes. Senator Shayban Drahzen may have a stranglehold on his fellows’ hearts and minds at the moment. But who knows what the coming days might bring? You may find that you have allies where you least expect them. For example, the Commander of the Legion of the Heart is not without some…considerable…influence.”

Hesha Vorlan frowned at this. She couldn’t quite believe, looking at this bloated wreck of a man, that there was any truth to what he said. And yet, she and the general were sitting in a back room at Mevran’s, the flagship restaurant of Horgan Mevran, the most accomplished and famous chef in the entire galaxy. It was a place that even Senator Hesha Vorlan of Revlingal, for all her status and power, would be unlikely to get a table in on her own. And yet this…crude pig had been able to, not only get a table, but secure access to one of the vaunted back rooms! Clearly he wasn’t exaggerating his status.

“Are you saying, General, that you are interested in helping me ascend to the throne?” Vorlan asked. Etralis leaned forward slightly.

“I am saying, Senator, that I am willing to exert whatever humble influence I may possess to aid you in your bid,” Etralis said smoothly, “But I would require certain assurances from you, in return.”

“Of course,” she responded, “Name your terms.”

“First, I would require your assurance that you would retain me as Commander of the Heart upon your ascension,” he said, and she nodded in response. “Second, I would also require an additional wing within the Imperial Palace for my personal quarters.” She nodded again, inwardly rolling her eyes at the insatiable greed of this swine. “And third, I would need to be given the power to appoint the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Armed Forces… and the Master of the ISS.” He sat back with a bland expression on his face, waiting to see the Senator’s reaction to this request.

Vorlan was stunned. This… this ape was asking to be given the very keys to the Empire! Supreme Commander of the IAF and Master of the ISS were the two most powerful positions in the Empire, aside from the throne itself. With the power to fill those two positions, General Etralis would essentially become the ruler of the Empire by proxy.

“Do you… Do you have any idea what you’re asking?” she whispered, appalled. The expression on the General’s face didn’t change.

“Of course, my dear,” he said in a voice as bland as his expression. She stared at him, unable to comprehend what was going on.

“How could you possibly think that I would agree to these conditions!” she exclaimed.

“Because without my help you will not attain the throne,” he said, his voice firming slightly, “And you will not get my help without agreeing to these conditions.” The Senator shook her head, trying to figure out how to salvage this situation.

“I have no problems with your first two conditions,” she said, “But the third condition is unacceptable. I cannot agree to it.” Etralis smiled smugly.

“Don’t be ridiculous, dear,” he said, “Senator Drahzen has already assured me both of those things if he is elected. If that’s all you’re going to give me, then I have no incentive to back you over Shayban. Especially since, even with my help, your election is by no means assured. And if I back you and Senator Drahzen still wins the election, I will have made a powerful enemy. You can see where I would want to make sure that taking such a risk would be worth my while.” Vorlan frowned and thought this over. Unfortunately, he made some very good points.

“Let me get this straight,” she said, “You want me to promise that you can be the power behind the throne, but you can’t even promise me that I’ll win the election if I give you what you want?” Etralis shrugged and spread his hands wide.

“Shayban has a great deal of support in the Senate,” he said, “I will do what I can, but I can’t promise anything. Besides, if you lose, my help won’t cost you anything. And you have no chance of winning without it.” Vorlan glared at him, but she had to admit that he was right. She wanted the throne more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. Senator Vorlan might be unable to get a table at Mevran’s, but Empress Hesha would be able to order Horgan Mevran himself to be her personal chef. Furthermore, this was her only chance to secure the throne. Shayban Drahzen was relatively young, in good health, and had several children. If he became Emperor, there was almost no chance that the throne would be available again in her lifetime.

“Fine,” she said begrudgingly, “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

To be continued…

Terrible Shadow, Part 3

In a luxurious bed within a lavish suite of rooms on one of the highest floors of the vast Imperial Palace on Trisitania, General Embamor Etralis was passed out. It was 10 o’clock in the morning and, as usual, he had drunk way too much wine the night before. His aides kept checking to see if he was awake yet, as he had duties he needed to carry out, but none of them dared wake him up. Waking General Etralis from a drunken stupor was a one-way ticket to an assignment scrubbing toilets in the dungeons.

General Etralis was the Commander of the Legion of the Heart, the Imperial Legion responsible for the safety of the Empress and the Imperial Palace. As there had not been a serious threat to the Empress’ safety or that of the Palace in hundreds of years, Commander of the Heart was considered a cushy posting for military officers in their twilight years. General Etralis had risen to that post not through valor or strength or intelligence, but because he was really good at making and exploiting connections.

A particularly loud snore rousted the general from his slumber, and he blearily looked around his extravagant chambers. His connections had been good for more than just obtaining undemanding assignments. He had also managed to amass a fortune through shady business dealings, and he wasn’t shy about showing off the fruit of his labor. He yawned loudly and stretched, and then slowly stood up, rubbing his temples to ease the pain of his sore head.

General Embamor Etralis had the physique of a man who had once been in excellent shape, but had let himself go in his later years. He was tall and still had a vaguely regal bearing, but he also had an enormous potbelly and comparatively skinny limbs. He looked a little bit like a large potato with four toothpicks stuck in it. He had a fringe of wispy white hair around his head, and a large, red, bulbous nose. His blue eyes were watery and unfocused, although he still could muster a piercing stare when he needed it.

He stood in the middle of his room, vaguely blinking and staring off into space, and then he suddenly drew a deep breath and bellowed, “AGANAR!” Almost immediately, the door to his bedroom flew open and a young man rushed in and presented himself to the general.

“Yes, General!” he said, saluting smartly.

“‘Bout time you showed up, boy,” the General said, slurring his words slightly, “It’s almost noon! Were you just gonna let me sleep the day away?”

“Of course not, sir!” the young man said. In reality, Lieutenant Ven Aganar would never have dared wake General Etralis after a night of drinking. But it wasn’t wise to contradict the Commander of the Heart. The General swore loudly, belched, passed gas, and then scratched himself while he idly looked around the room.

“Well!” he said finally, “What’s on the agenda for today, boy?”

“Today is a light day, sir,” Aganar said, “Training exercises at noon, and a dinner with Senator Vorlan this evening.” Etralis swore again and spit on the floor.

“Politicians, eh?” he said, “What a bunch of slimy snakes. I can’t stand the lot of ‘em. What does this Senator Vorlan want, anyway?” Aganar’s cheeks flushed slightly and he glanced down at the tablet he was carrying.

“Uh, s-sir,” he stammered, “You r-requested a meeting with the S-Senator to d-discuss security arrangements for the, uh, the upcoming, uh, coronation of the new Emperor.” Rarely did the General stand for having any error pointed out, no matter how minor or insignificant it was, without flying into one of his infamous rages, but this time Lieutenant Aganar was lucky.

“I did?” the General asked, scratching his chin, “Huh. Okay, then.” He scratched himself some more, and stared off into space. Lieutenant Aganar stood at attention, outwardly calm, but inwardly he was shaking with fearful anticipation of the outburst that was sure to come. He didn’t have to wait long. The General started, and then focused his watery blue eyes on Aganar.

“WHY ARE YOU STILL STANDING THERE, BOY?” he bellowed, “GET ME SOME CLOTHES! NOW!” Aganar saluted quickly and ran out of the room. Etralis glared after him for a few seconds, and then his gaze became unfocused again and he belched. He wandered over to his dresser, opened a drawer, and took out a flask of whiskey. He popped open the flask and took a long drink from it. Then he put it back in the drawer and belched again.

His eyes wandered aimlessly around the room. He looked at the rich furnishings and luxurious tapestries without really seeing them. He was trying to remember why he had bothered setting up a meeting with Senator Vorlan. Hesha Vorlan was a Senator from Revlingal, one of the richest and most powerful provinces in the Empire. She was also one of the prime candidates for the soon-to-be vacant throne. But everybody on Trisitania knew that Shayban Drahzen from Nextrafar was almost certainly going to be chosen by the Senate. General Etralis was concerned for his position, and he’d already received assurances from Senator Drahzen that he had no plans to appoint a new Commander of the Heart. So why bother meeting with Senator Vorlan? The General couldn’t remember.

In any case, it didn’t matter. Even if Drahzen wasn’t raised to the throne, Etralis would make the most of the situation. That was his speciality. There had been many times that people had written off Embamor Etralis, and he’d always managed to prove them wrong. Besides, even if he was forced out of his cushy position, he had enough money stashed away to retire comfortably right now. So it didn’t really matter to him who became the next Emperor.

He had thought about making a run for the throne himself, but in a time of peace, it wasn’t very likely that the Senate would choose a military man. Etralis knew that he was good at getting what he wanted, but he also was aware of the limits of his talent. Besides, being Emperor would be too much responsibility. He would rather continue sleeping until noon and drinking as much as he wanted.

To be continued…

Terrible Shadow, Part 2

Ahsken Lorovic was on his way to his office to review some documents when a voice from behind him called out. He turned to see his boss, ISS Master Dren Folmor. Folmor was the highest ranking official in the ISS, appointed by the Empress herself. Master of the ISS was one of the two or three most coveted positions in the entire Empire short of the throne itself.

The Imperial Secret Service was perhaps the most powerful and certainly the most feared division of the Imperial government. It was responsible for upholding the security of the Empire and identifying and neutralizing threats to that security before they could become serious. The ISS had agents in every province of the Empire, in every major city and in most minor ones. Every university, every school, every hospital, every business, every formal organization of any sort had at least one ISS agent attached to it. The ISS monitored all communication on the internet, and watched all the comings and goings of everyone in the Empire. They were omniscient. Or so they thought.

In reality, the sheer vastness of the Empire made it impossible for the ISS to be aware of everything that went on, and Fangalin had found it fairly easy to hide from them over the past few centuries. In addition, there hadn’t really been any serious threats to the Empire’s rule ever since the Nether War, and the ISS had gotten rather complacent in the subsequent centuries.

All these thoughts went through Lorovic’s head in the half-second it took him to turn and face Folmor. Physically, Lorovic and his boss couldn’t have been more different. Lorovic was tall, muscular, and clean-shaven, with a full head of close-cropped dark hair. Folmor was about a foot shorter, and so fat that he was almost perfectly circular. He was breathing heavily as if he’d been running, but in reality he was so out of shape that he breathed like that all the time. His red, round face glistened with sweat, but that too was normal for him. What little hair he had left on his head was gray and combed over, as if he thought that would hide his baldness, but the lack of hair on top of his head was more than made up for by his giant, bushy, gray mustache. Not for the first time, Lorovic wondered how this fat fool managed to rise to such a lofty position.

“Well, Lorovic,” Folmor said, still breathing heavily, “The big day is coming soon! I hope you’re ready for it?”

“Of course, sir,” Lorovic replied with a salute, “All is in readiness for the session to begin.”

“Good, good,” Folmor said, looking around as if he was distracted by something. Lorovic watched him impassively for a few minutes, and then he spoke up.

“Is there something I can help you with, sir?” he asked with a slight touch of impatience. Folmor looked surprised that Lorovic had spoken, but the expression on his face quickly turned thoughtful.

“Actually, now that you mention it, I could use your help with something,” he said slimily. “You’re a loyal servant of the Empire, aren’t you?”

“Of course, sir,” Lorovic responded, frowning. This obese moron couldn’t be on to me, he thought, Could he?

“Yes, yes, of course you are,” Folmor muttered, suddenly distracted again. He looked all around furtively, as if expecting to see spies eavesdropping all around him. He beckoned for Lorovic to lean in close, which Lorovic did while barely suppressing a disgusted grimace. “I have a small problem. You see, my contacts tell me that Senator Drahzen is likely to be chosen as the new Emperor.” He stopped, waiting for Lorovic to react to this. Lorovic stared impassively down at him, and he frowned and shook his head. “You don’t see the significance of this?” he asked irritably.

“I’m afraid not, sir,” Lorovic replied. Folmor made a disgusted noise and rolled his eyes.

“Well, Drahzen’s had it in for me for years,” Folmor said, spitting on the ground to show what he thought of that, “And I just know that if he becomes Emperor, he’s gonna demote me and reassign me to some hillbilly province out on the edge of space. So you can see that it would really not be in my best interest for him to be elected.”

“I can see that, sir,” Lorovic said blandly. Folmor nodded and once again looked around distractedly while Lorovic continued. “I’m not sure what you want me to do about it though. I’m not a Senator, sir. I don’t have a vote.”

“No, no, of course not,” Folmor said, “But as Director of Security for the Senate, you have the power to…influence certain people to view the election my way. Anyway, I don’t really want to say more out in the open like this. And you don’t have to agree to anything now. I just want your assurance that you’ll at least listen to what I have to say later on.”

“Absolutely, sir,” Lorovic lied, “I would be happy to aid you, sir.” He managed to say that with a straight face, but on the inside, he was disgusted and appalled by what Folmor was suggesting. Manipulate the selection of the Emperor? Possibly use violence to do so? Such corruption made Lorovic feel sick to his stomach. It was because of people like Folmor that the Empire deserved what was about to happen to it.

The irony of this line of thought was lost on Lorovic, of course. In his mind, he wasn’t betraying the Empire, because he was never loyal to the Empire in the first place. Fangalin had been his master since he was born, and the only reason he joined the ISS in the first place was to further the cause of Fangalin. He wasn’t betraying anyone by blowing up the Senate Hall. He was carrying out the mission given him by those who held his true loyalty.

To be continued…

Terrible Shadow, Part 1

Ahsken Lorovic walked the halls of power as if he owned them, and in some ways, he did. As Director of Security for the Imperial Senate, he had full access to every area of the Senate Hall. Of course, to refer to the Senate Hall as the “halls of power” was something of an exaggeration. Most of the real power in the Empire belonged to the Imperial Throne. The Senate mostly existed to give the Emperor or Empress a sense of what the people were thinking and feeling. However, there was one critical power that the Senate possessed. This was the power to appoint a new Emperor or Empress whenever the current Emperor or Empress died without an heir.

The throne was currently occupied by the House of Melforia, but it’s 600-year long tenure was about to end. The current Empress, Emella II, was 78 years old and on her deathbed. She had no children (indeed, she had never married), and so by Imperial law, the Senate had the authority to chose her successor once she died. The doctors that were attending her had announced that she had no more than a couple of weeks left, so the Senate was assembling so that they could carry out what was perhaps their most important duty.

This made things very busy for Ahsken Lorovic. The last time the Senate had met to choose an occupant for the Throne, almost exactly 600 years ago, the result had been civil war. Neither General Amelina Galrax nor Senator Shellina Melforia had been able to garner enough support in the Senate to claim the Throne, and so they had marshaled armies and fought it out on the battlefield. The war lasted three years, and ended with Senator Melforia becoming Empress Shellina II. This time, the Senate was determined not to let that happen, so the leaders of the Senate had ordered Director Lorovic to beef up security and make sure that the proceedings ran smoothly.

This meant lots of extra work for Lorovic, but he didn’t particularly mind. The death of Emella II was something that he, personally, had been anxiously awaiting. It was a perfect opportunity for something that Lorovic and his companions had been working on for a long time.

Lorovic was a member of Fangalin. About 350 years ago, in the aftermath of the Nether War, a young Nether sergeant named Wellin Votara had been determined not to let the ideals of the Nether disappear, and had founded a successor group called Fangalin, which meant “terrible shadow”. Votara recognized that the Nether had failed because it wasn’t powerful enough to take on the might of the Empire at its height. Fangalin needed to hide in the shadows, and grow stronger, and wait for the Empire to exhibit a moment of weakness. One of those moments that Votara had identified was the death of a childless Emperor.

It was a pretty simple plan, really. The moment an heirless Emperor died, there would be no Emperor and no one readily available to take his or her place. All of the potential successors would be gathered in one spot. Therefore, all that needed to be done was to obliterate the Senate Hall. The entire Senate and many of the top generals and bureaucrats and provincial governors would be gathered there, which would effectively decapitate the Empire in one fell swoop. As Director of Security for the Senate Hall, Lorovic was in a perfect position to carry out this plan.

The plan had been conceived hundreds of years ago, but it was only in the past 40 years or so that the real preparations had begun. As Emella II passed her fortieth birthday without any sign that she was pregnant or going to get pregnant, the Supreme Commander of Fangalin, Zhemeen Fortulis, realized the time was right. He made sure that the Imperial Secret Service was fully stocked with loyal Fangalin operatives, so that there would always be someone in place to carry out the plan no matter when the Empress died. Lorovic often chuckled to himself when he thought about the fact that his boss, ISS Master Dren Folmor, thought he ruled the ISS with a iron fist, when in reality it was Zhemeen Fortulis who really called the shots.

In fact, Fangalin in general had done a very good job over the centuries of laying low. The ISS certainly was aware of Fangalin’s existence, and classified them as a terrorist organization, but they were by no means considered the most dangerous of the dozens of organizations so classified by the ISS. As someone who walked on both sides of the line, Lorovic knew exactly how wrong the ISS was.

Now that the day of the Empress’ death was drawing near, Fangalin was getting ready to emerge from the shadows for the first time in 350 years. In about half the provinces of the Empire, the governor and/or the top generals or other leaders were actually members of Fangalin. Once the Empire was leaderless, these officials were prepared to seize control of their provinces and begin the true war against the Empire.

After all, creating an empire alongside the Trisitanian Empire was not Fangalin’s ultimate goal. No, the ultimate goal was to destroy the Trisitanian Empire and replace it with the Fangalin Empire. Only then would the work of the Dark Presence be complete. This was the mission that every member of Fangalin was sworn to carry out.

Lorovic got chills just thinking about it. His entire life, he had been dedicated to this goal. Coming out of hiding and commencing an open war with the Empire was just one step, but it was a very important step. With luck and the blessings of the Presence, perhaps it would be the most important step. Maybe the Empire would be so crippled by this blow that the war would be over quickly. But even if not, Lorovic and his fellows would eventually triumph. It was their destiny.

To be continued…

To Break the Galaxy, Part 9

Briella Melforia stood on a balcony, looking out over the vast expanse of Selorin, the capital city of the Trisitanian Empire. Massive skyscrapers stretched thousands of meters in the air, but the vantage point on which the Empress stood towered over them all. The Imperial Palace was the heart of the Empire, physically and figuratively. The Senate liked to think that it ruled the Empire, but the true power was in the hands of the Empress and her staff.

Not that the Senate didn’t play an important role. Every province in the Empire was represented by two Senators, and those Senators were elected by the citizens of the province. The Senate had little real power, but electing Senators made the people feel like they had a role to play in running the government. This, in turn, made them a little easier to control, and a little less likely to rebel.

Of course, power was subjective. Her position as the most powerful individual in the galaxy hadn’t kept the Nether from forming, nor had she been able to prevent an 11 year long war with them. For all her power, she sometimes felt as if she couldn’t do any more to influence events than any other individual.

Briella heard a sound, and she turned to see her husband, Prince Vandin Melforia. Prince Vandin was a couple of years older than her, and where she was cultured, refined, and skilled at the art of saying what people wanted to hear while really saying something else entirely, Vandin Shelagor Melforia was rugged, blunt, and told people exactly what he thought. This habit had made him quite a few enemies among the Imperial elite, but it was that trait which the Empress most appreciated about him. It was important for a leader to have somebody who was comfortable telling her when she was wrong.

“Ah,” she said, “what news do you bring, husband?”

“I have some news from Yebifar,” he said, “An update on the former Nether soldiers living there.”

“Oh really?” she said, a twinge of alarm entering her voice, “What sort of news?”

“Oh, nothing bad,” he replied quickly, “just a minor update. All of the former Nether soldiers are settling into their new surroundings quite nicely. Unfortunately, two of them were killed in a mining accident a few days ago.” He handed his wife a tablet. She scanned its contents quickly, and then looked up at her husband.

“Wellin Votara and Mektemar Felnen,” she said, “Do we have any reason to suspect foul play in this incident?”

“Not really,” Vandin replied, “There was only one eyewitness to the incident, a miner by the name of Trel Solum. Strangely, he disappeared soon after the incident, but the authorities on Yebifar have found no evidence that he was in any way responsible for what happened. Apparently, he was very good friends with both of the former soldiers.”

“Hmmm,” Briella said, “I wonder if it would be worth tracking down this Trel Solum. It seems odd to me that he would disappear if he had nothing to hide.” Vandin frowned and shook his head.

“I doubt it,” he said, “Maybe his disappearance was simply a matter of not wanting to be around a place where two good friends were killed. It’s not like he was told to stick around. Besides, mining accidents happen all the time. The only reason you’re hearing about this one is because it involved two former soldiers of the Army of the Dark.” Briella sighed and returned to looking out over the city.

“I suppose you’re right, husband,” she said, “Maybe I’m just being paranoid.”

Of course, it was useful for an Emperor or Empress to be a little paranoid. After all, the most powerful person in the galaxy inevitably had many enemies. But it was also possible to be too paranoid. Not everyone was an enemy. The trick was finding the right balance.

Her father had made the mistake of being too paranoid. His obsession with obliterating the Black Legion had come close to bringing about the collapse of the Empire. It was good for everyone that he was removed from power. But the generals who orchestrated his downfall hadn’t been paranoid enough. They believed the Black Legion and its ilk were utterly toothless, and so had created an environment that nurtured the growth of the Nether.

How would Empress Briella II be remembered? It was unlikely that she’d be remembered for being too paranoid. But by proclaiming an amnesty for the defeated enemies of the Empire, was she being not paranoid enough? Would her actions lead to a new uprising that her son or grandson would someday have to face? There was no way for her to know.

“Okay,” she said, “I agree that we don’t need to put a great deal of resources into searching for this man. But I do think we should be watching out for him. Order the ISS offices on Yebifar and the surrounding provinces to keep an eye out for Trel Solum. Tell them that they don’t need to go out looking for him, but if they happen to come across him, make sure they detain him. I find it very suspicious that he would disappear so soon after this ‘accident’.” Prince Vandin saluted by placing his fist on his chest and bowed in acquiescence.

“As her Majesty commands, so shall it be, as always,” he responded, with a touch of mockery mingled with respect. Briella glanced at him with a wry smile, and he smiled back. Then he departed to pass on her commands, and she returned to gazing out at the great city of Selorin.

There was no way to tell what the future held. The Empire could last for 10,000 years, or it could crumble in 10. All things were possible, and all Briella could do was play her part. What irony, though. The most powerful individual in the galaxy, and yet she felt as though she had no more power to affect the course of history than a humble miner.

The End