The sentry at the processing area looked them over, shaking his head. “Found what you boys were looking for did you?” he asked.
Alvarez motioned toward Gunther’s space way at the back. “Yeah, that guy, he accused us of being spies. As you can see, we’ve got our item and we’re on our way. No raid incoming. So call us even. Hope he doesn’t hold a grudge.”
The security man snorted. “Gunther? If it’s one thing he does better than anything else is hold a grudge. But his stupidity is notorious. I’ll see to it he is informed of his mistake. That’s the best I can do for you. But I’d give him a long while to cool off before I came back if I was you.”
They both nodded and limped off the deck with their hard-won package.
Lee wiped a spot of blood from his lip. “Vee, we have three days to get to Rigel.”
“We’ll get there. Aaron will be looking for us and we know the trouble he finds when he’s idle.”
Chapter 6 – Honor Above Loyalty
Emperor-class Imperial Dreadnought - Phalanx
Troff System
Imperial Space
Even high-ranking Imperial Navy Commander’s endured hardship from time to time.
This was no different for Lord Commander Quintus Scipio, who had operational Command of one-third of the Imperial Navy and Commanded the flagship Phalanx. One of the latest behemoths recently refitted at the advanced starship assembly yards in the otherwise unremarkable star system of Troff.
Phalanx orbited Troff’s primary star for three days until he received the unfortunate orders detailing his new assignment from the Emperor himself.
The Phalanx was to join the assembled fleet at Troff and receive the Emperor’s personal advisor Lord Praetor Brutus Bannon. Bannon was a politician with responsibility for Imperial Interstellar Security. Quintus was tasked to take him close to Atlas Prime for a special mission. On receipt of the orders, Quintus summoned his Imperial Intelligence liaison to his office.
Quintus sat behind his desk waiting for the agent to finish reading the orders. The Lord Commander embodied the discipline of a loyal officer. He kept his dark hair short and never allowed stubble to linger on his chin. Golden gauntlet’s clasped firmly to his olive skinned forearms. His face bore fine and flawless features. He wore a ceremonial golden breast-plate over his dark colored Navy uniform. The agent sitting opposite was almost a replica.
If they stood side by side, the only difference would be the color of their capes, which now hung in the receiving area of the Lord Commander’s office. Quintus wore red like all other high-ranking officers of the Imperial Navy. Centurions wore blue capes. The agent was a citizen and not a member of the Navy and his cape was white.
Quintus’ personal office didn’t lack decorations. They served as reminders of why he chose the solitary life of service in the Imperial Navy. On the opposite bulkhead, draped the dark Imperial Flag with a phoenix rising from the corona of a star at the center. On the bulkhead to his left, a miniature display of previous generations of Imperial warships. Over to the right a large portrait of the home world Hosque and its largest city Antwerp. The Imperial agent sitting across from him finally spoke.
“He’s a radical extremist and I don’t like him,” Platus said, pounding his fist on the antique steel desk between them. Not a reaction Quintus would tolerate from anyone. But Platus happened also to be his brother.
Quintus winced at the sudden outburst. “Platus, you dislike everyone. Name one person in the Navy you do like.”
Platus opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Quintus shook his head. “My point exactly.”
“I like Bannon even less than other people I dislike. I’m warning you, Quintus, nothing good will come of having him aboard or this secret mission. You know better than I do, the Empire has assembled an invasion fleet here.”
The Troff system—an otherwise insignificant system far from the spying apparatus of other Worlds—now bustled with stellar activity. The Navy must have undertaken an extraordinary effort to hide this undertaking. Several shipyards across the system produced advanced warships and refitted older ones with alarming efficiency.
“Some citizens and half the Navy believe war with the United Star Systems is inevitable and we should strike first,” Quintus said.
“And what do you believe, Quintus?”
“I believe if they are correct, then of course a pre-emptive strike is ideal.”
Platus shook his head. “But what if they’re wrong? 70 years of peace? Dismissed on a whim? We’ve discussed this before and you’ve said yourself that highly unusual activity within the United Systems does not justify an invasion.”
“I did say that, but I’m not radical. If it rains and the Lord Praetor gets wet, he would use it as justification for an invasion.”
“We,” Platus said, slapping his breastplate, “are loyal servants of the Empire. Our father before us and his father before him and all the line of our family back to the day we declared independence from the United Star Systems. We chose to serve for the good and enlightenment of our people, not to plunge them into war, desolation and misery. Such, would be the only outcome of another interstellar war. With the advent of faster warships and increasingly powerful weapons, what kind of galaxy would remain? Who and what would be left to rule over? I wonder sometimes if Bannon and others of his ilk consider these things.”
Quintus laughed. “They are radicals, and extremists. I somehow do not believe those individuals are capable of those considerations. The rational part of their thought process was long flushed out of them.”
“Then the question we face is—what do we do if Bannon intends to provoke a war? Throughout this star system a technologically advanced fleet of warships and Navy personnel waits, primed for invasion. This could almost be the Lord Praetor’s private Navy. Ancient Gods, Quintus, have we become mercenaries?”
“Platus, intelligence operatives would make terrible politicians, leave the wild conspiracy theories to me. As one of the Navy’s Lord Commanders, I still have high favor with the Emperor. I will engage the Emperor on this matter and find out what Bannon is truly planning here and whether the Emperor truly sanctions it. I suspect Bannon with his half-truths and other propaganda might easily influence the Emperor to drastic actions.”
“Have you considered what you will do either way?” Platus asked.
Quintus shook his head.
“Since it would seem the Emperor is aware of this ‘activity’, would it not mean the Emperor embraces radical views himself or doesn’t oppose them enough to intervene? Would we want to be part of the machinations of this invasion? An interstellar war simply because neither of our peoples are willing to compromise on any issue? If we support it by act or omission, how are we different, Quintus?”
“Careful, Platus, if anyone heard you, they would arrest you for high-treason.”