Broken Glass (Glass Complex Book 1) (3 page)

“Thomas, you’re relieved from duty here. And Steg, you have a tenday or more before you need to return to your shuttle duties. Take yourselves off for a long hike. Thomas, I suggest you both take one of the air-vs and travel along the White Cliffs. Ensure the flight path stays in radar shadow where possible. Program the autopilot to stop a number of times along the route, both outbound and return. That way, no one will know where you dropped off. Stay out for a tenday—the visitors should have departed well before then. Go—I’ll authorize transport. Thirty minutes to the pad for liftoff. Steg, leave your sword, I‘ll get it to Brioude for you.”

******

Chapter 2

The air-v was armed and armored, a fusion-powered
flying tank capable of low terrain hedgehopping, although in this instance the air-v was cliff hopping. Steg had the command seat and was part flying, part monitoring the autopilot program. The craft was skirting the White Cliffs, a geographic feature of this section of the coast that ran for hundreds of kays. The cliffs provided a substantial radar shadow that would hide them even from the advanced electronics available to their Imperial visitors. They would be detectable to Castlehome g-sats, although Steg doubted that the Imperials could penetrate their security. The air-v would return to Castlehome on autopilot alone, slowing, stopping and accelerating randomly in order to provide additional confusion to anyone who was able to monitor or trace its flight path.

In the meantime, Steg and Thomas planned to hike away from the coastline, deeper into the forest. Steg was confident that searchers even equipped with heat seekers would not be able to identify them under the thick canopy; they would be indistinguishable from wild animals that roamed freely on Homeworld. Steg enjoyed his forays into the forest; typically they isolated him from the formal strictures of Castlehome and gave him an opportunity to test his tracking and hunting skills. This time however, he was torn between the attractions of a forest trek and growing apprehension about taking his departure from Castlehome, even if was only for a tenday.

“I feel as though I am running away from something,” he complained.

“Well, those Imperials were hunting blood although they showed bad judgment. Now they really will be after blood—yours, for revenge, not honor. I am not sure the Empire’s goodwill is really something we need.”

“They are after something,” mused Steg. “I cannot think what. Recruits for some war they are planning? Perhaps they have heard stories about Homeworld?”

Thomas snorted. “The Empire has always had suspicions about the wealth of Homeworld, even though we do not flaunt it. Also, they need us as a barrier against whatever is out there.” He pointed upwards without real direction. “And most of all, the Empire wants subservient territories, which they can then pillage to their heart’s content.”

Steg agreed. “The First Earl decreed that we should disguise our wealth to avoid attacks and raids by pirates and other predators. I think our visitors are predators.”

“Our defense system is always armed—we could hold off the Empire’s Third Fleet, if we needed.”

“Well, for a short while, “ agreed Steg. “Maybe it’s just reconnaissance. An Imperial officer was trailing the Castle guards at morning watch changeover. Their intelligence reports would be very interesting reading. We could learn what our weaknesses are if we could get a copy.”

“If they file it or transmit it, we will see it,” affirmed Thomas. “The Acolytes will make certain of that. I daresay they are already searching for any report the Imperials produce about Homeworld. Knowing the Acolytes, they probably have penetrated Imperial ship security—probably dumped a copy of all the ship’s records into our memory glasses.”

Steg checked the instruments. “Our evac point is coming up. We need to drop and get into the forest as quickly as possible.”

Steg thumped his bedroll in a futile attempt to smooth out its lumps. They were half way through the tenday and the ground was not getting any softer. They were camped in a small clearing, still confident of little risk of detection. The night was exceptionally clear and the stars stood out against their black backdrop. This was Homeworld at its most relaxing, thought Steg. Five days of solid marching through the forest along barely identifiable trails had tested his stamina and he was enjoying this opportunity to rest. Then distant rumblings silenced the night sounds of the forest and roused him from his reverie. He raised his head and listened carefully. The sounds continued. He turned towards Thomas. Or at least towards his sleeping bag.

“Thunder, explosions or cannon fire?”

“Not thunder. Both explosions and cannon,” came the soft response. A barely discernible tremor of concern was evident in the drill sergeant’s voice. “And I was listening to routine traffic on the ComNet and suddenly it cut out—nothing now except heavy static.”

“Accident or attack?”

“Unlikely to be an accident.” Thomas paused, unable to immediately voice his suspicions. “Everything cut out almost simultaneously. That would be a strange accident. The ComNet has multiple stations and satellites. It would take a strange accident to take out the core, just like that. Now, a coordinated attack—that could stop everything at once. A report earlier mentioned a second Imperial destroyer landing at Castlehome port—an unscheduled visit apparently. But that is barely thinkable—”

“Is it? They have got the men, weapons, and probably the inclination. The difficulty would be overcoming our defense system—how could they penetrate that?”

“Traitors?” The drill sergeant reluctantly suggested. They both fell silent. Thomas continued to listen to his comunit.

“Steg, listen up,” he instructed. “Condition red is being broadcast on DefNet. And also someone is transmitting a general order for all military personnel and auxiliaries to report immediately to Castlehome.”

Steg grabbed his comunit. “That’s contrary to Standing Orders,” he commented as he plugged the earpiece into his ear. “They
—
whoever—are giving themselves away. Anything severe enough both to bring down ComNet and to cause a condition red alert on DefNet requires just the opposite—all military units to disperse and prepare for guerilla defense. This means Homeworld has been invaded, and Castlehome captured. The Castle in enemy hands—” His voice broke. “This is disastrous.”

Thomas sounded horrified at the possibilities. “What has happened? Have the Imperials really somehow attacked and neutralized our defense system?” His pragmatism came to the fore. “No such thing as an impregnable fortress. We need to find out what has happened.”

“I agree,” urged Steg. “We have a long trek in front of us. While we cannot use ComNet either
to
make contact or to report, we must discover what disaster has befallen Homeworld. We will be needed to help arrange a counterstrike. Come on.”

Thomas agreed with Steg’s air of urgency and they quickly broke camp, repacking for a forced march. Thomas paused to listen again to the broadcasts.

“Instructions to report are still being broadcast. We are supposed to acknowledge.” Thomas’s tone was wry.

“And if anyone transmits, they’ll have a trace and they’ll be prisoners before morning,” responded Steg.

Thomas continued to listen, “Well, someone is thinking. A second transmission is reminding Homeworld listeners to follow Standing Orders. I think the Imperials are going to encounter major issues if they try to round up Homeworld military.”

They set out, the drill sergeant leading. Steg soon realized Thomas was setting a pace that made the trek of the last five days a picnic by comparison. He would need to draw on all his inner resources, to keep up. The drill sergeant was an old and seasoned campaigner and could maintain his distance-consuming pace for hours, and when circumstances demanded, for days. Steg just hoped Thomas would remember to stop and rest occasionally.

The night remained clear and whenever they moved out from the forest canopy, the stars were sharp and bright. Distant rumblings had faded and eventually stopped. The silence was broken occasionally by the sleepy protest of a disturbed animal as they passed by, or by the querulous chirp of a bird awakened before dawn. The chill seeping into Steg’s bones had nothing to do with the temperature of the night. Castlehome was his home, his life, and he dared not think about the possible fate of his family, of his parents and two older brothers. He could only carry on in the hope that all were safe and unharmed. He could not dwell on the alternatives.

Thomas paused twice, each time to check the map and their heading. Steg was tired. Now the early morning glow of false dawn was softening the darkness of the night as the drill sergeant halted and dropped his packs. Steg quickly followed suit.

“We can rest here for a while, Steg. The forest breaks into a clearing just ahead. Set out some intruder sensors and then settle in behind these fallen tree trunks. That way we both can get some sleep. Food first, and then sleep—five hours. If we can keep up this pace, by mid-day tomorrow we will reach a small farm village just on the edge of the forest.”

Steg set out the sensors from his weapons pack and then heated up his field rations. He was asleep minutes after he finished his breakfast. He did not dream.

The forest came to an abrupt end, as tall trees gave way to the openness of cultivated farmland. They both paused under the shaded coolness and checked the fields for movement. A small group of farm buildings centering the cultivation was quiet and without signs of life. Steg discerned a feeling of forlorn loneliness about the low stone-built complex and the afternoon shadows emphasized its emptiness.

“The farmers have left here. Perhaps they also have gone to the village for news. Or they have already gone into hiding.” Thomas scratched at his beard.

Steg checked the map. “The village is about twenty kays down the valley. We should keep going.” He hefted his packs back into place and they headed on past the deserted farmhouse.

They reached the small village well after nightfall. They had encountered no one on the road, no farm animals and no one working in the fields. Even the automatic watering systems were powered down. Both ComNet and DefNet were silent. That silence was worrying. As they entered the village, they dropped off their supply packs in a shadowed area, keeping only their weapons packs, and then moved forward in full combat readiness.

“Don’t approach the houses,” advised Thomas quietly. “No lights showing. The inn should be our first stop.”

Steg nodded his agreement. The inn was a further hundred yards or so, and Steg expected that the innkeeper or his guests, villagers or travelers, would have news of what was happening. At the inn door, Steg handed his weapons pack to Thomas and pushed open the heavy door. He stepped through the small entry foyer into the dimly lit taproom. Thomas was immediately behind him.

Conversations halted, although no one looked openly at the two strangers. Steg stopped to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim light. There was silence in the taproom as though a common breath was being held while guesses were made as to their identity. Steg peered around in an almost futile attempt to pierce the gloom and waited as a hesitant innkeeper reluctantly approached.

“From Castlehome?” he inquired softly, his nervous voice barely lasting across the short distance that separated them.

Steg nodded.

The innkeeper visibly relaxed, dropping the edge of his apron where he had been wiping his already clean hands over and over. He looked behind Steg at Thomas, part hidden in the deeper shadows. “I recognize you, I’ve seen you there. We are hearing strange stories—offworlders—the Empire has taken over Castlehome. Can I help you?”

“Food, drink and a bed for the night,” Steg replied, matching the soft caution of the innkeeper. In the background the gentle murmur of numerous conversations again filled the room, as guests and drinkers carefully ignored the activity at the door. “Are any offworlders here?”

“Not in my inn. Not now. They were here earlier—I will tell you while you eat. Come in, I have a good table, in the corner there, and you and your friend will be able to watch the door if you wish.” The innkeeper told the serving maid to bring food and drink—the menu was short—a good Homeworld stew, according to the innkeeper, which he described as the best in the district as he led them to a table away from the entrance. He waited for Steg and Thomas to select their seating and carefully ignored the two weapons packs that Thomas pushed under the side of the table. He carried on a one-sided conversation while they ate. “There are three offworlders—Imperials—here, in the village. They arrived in their flyer this morning and posted notices everywhere. They are camped on the common.” A quick smile flittered across his face. “Their tents are palatial, no match at all for my sparse rooms. And they did not like the idea of sharing with bed bugs—my guests were all scratching, they were. And we were looking for the bug killer powders. Even the Imperials started to scratch, they did. So they decided they were safer outdoors.”

“What do the notices say?” queried Thomas.

“Well, one is a reward notice—seems like they think the village may be sheltering some of the Earl’s men, soldiers and officers, who they would like to capture. The other is some kind of proclamation. It says that the Earl was plotting against the Empire and that he held power illegally, that he seized the throne from the rightful heir.” He sneered. “They don’t know their Homeworld history—why, the Earl’s lineage goes all the way back to the First Earl, as we all know –.”