The Phoenix Darkness (40 page)

The people cheered their assent, just as the
signs and armed men off camera directed them to do until they were
instructed to be silent.

The Supreme Judicator then approached
Caerwyn, crown still in her hands, and spoke. “As you have sworn
before these witnesses, before all the souls of the Empire, and
before any gods that may be; and as these subjects of the Empire
have accepted you to perform this providential task and execute
this most solemn of duties; I now hereby place this crown upon your
head.” She put the ceremonial crown on top of Caerwyn’s head.
They’d taken measurements of his head before designing the damned
thing, so it fit snugly and perfectly, just as it was supposed to.
“Now arise, sir, as King Caerwyn Martel, First of Your Name,
Successor of King Hisato Akira, Sovereign of the Empire, and
Defender of the Realm. Arise and accept your people even as they
accept you.”

He climbed slowly to his feet, trying not to
grin from ear to ear, knowing he must appear stately and kingly,
serious but not grim. He stood tall and proud, crown upon his head,
and raised both hands high in the air. The crowd cheered loudly and
raucously, roaring their approval, just as they were directed
to.

He lowered his hands and spoke. “As your
king, I accept this tremendous burden and all its responsibilities
and I swear to you to defend and honor the Imperial Charter and all
the laws of the realm.”

***

Kalila watched the farce play out on her
screen, listening as the Supreme Judicator and Caerwyn Martel
traded lines of the mantra of coronation, swapping lines between
them like actors in a play. But unlike a play, their performance
was meant to be taken very seriously and, for a great part of the
Empire, it would mean something stirring and profound. It would
give them a symbol to rally behind. For why should any of them
kneel before an exiled queen when, seated atop the throne of the
capital, they had a king?

The entire thing filled her with disdain and
disgust, yet she could not get herself to look away nor mute the
sound. It felt very much like witnessing a terrible, grisly
accident; something sore and haunting on the senses yet nonetheless
compelling to behold.

“Your Majesty should not waste her time with
that drivel,” said Captain Adiger, who stood by her side. They'd
been discussing operations of the ship, along with the greater
portion of her strategy, when the broadcast interrupted them.

“They say he is the first king of the Empire
not to bear the name Akira,” she said, her eyes still glued to the
display. “But he is no king. He is an imposter, a pretender; a
bloody usurper.” She watched as Caerwyn was seated upon the
ceremonial throne,
her
father’s chair;
her
chair. She
had declared herself queen regnant, stood as champion of the
Empire, done so much and given up so much to be the one to command
humanity into a new, more glorious age. Yet it was not her but
he
who sat upon that throne. Even though half the Empire, if
not more, did not recognize his claim.

“The people know he is no king,” said Captain
Adiger, trying to sound reassuring. “I am certain even the common
people know this act for the charade it is.”

Kalila was less certain of that, but she
appreciated the sentiment. When the pretentious ceremony finally
came to its pompous conclusion and the broadcast ended, Kalila felt
a kind of relief, as though a sickness in the pit of her stomach
had gone away. She knew the people of the Empire expected her to
broadcast her rejection of the ceremony. To address the people and
rebut Caerwyn’s claims and antics, as she always did. That had been
their game since the war began; one of them would speak, addressing
all of the Empire, and the other would reply, denying and undoing
the words of the first, as best as could be done. She had called
for unity, and he'd labeled her a divider. She'd raised a standard
to rally the people, and he had called her insane. She had claimed
the monarchy and put herself before the people as their ruler and
protector, and now he had done the same. It seemed to be a game of
moves and countermoves without end, one she'd grown tired of, and
she was sure the people had grown tired of it also, yet it remained
necessary.

“Shall I give the order?” asked Captain
Adiger as Kalila buried her face in her arms, more frustrated and
tired than any person should ever have to be.

“Give the order,” she replied. “It is
time.”

Rather than face the citizens of the Empire
herself, behind makeup and lights, facing more cameras than she
cared to know about, she relied upon a different tactic. A rebuttal
had to be made; that much was clear. Caerwyn had to be called out
and condemned for his behavior, his coronation ceremony rejected as
the fraudulent charade it was. But it need not be Kalila herself
who did the task.

“You are clear to transmit,” said Captain
Adiger, using the comm system to talk to the ISS
Indomitable
. A few seconds later, a new broadcast appeared,
this time a legitimate one, one which spoke the truth.

Before her, on display for all the Empire to
see, was the Royal Assembly. They sat in their seats, in the
largest spare room of the Indomitable which had been decorated to
appear like an assembly chamber should. One of them stood, the
chosen Speaker of the Royal Assembly, and the cameras zoomed in on
her. She was a beautiful dark skinned woman with black hair and
chocolate eyes. When she spoke, she had a commanding tone and, had
Kalila not known better, she might have thought this woman had been
raised as royalty.

“I am Representative Natasha Mirembi of
Tarsonia, Speaker of the Royal Assembly, and a member of the legal
legislative body of the people of the Empire. On behalf of the
Empire, and all her citizens, and speaking with the voice of the
Royal Assembly itself, I hereby repudiate and reject the coronation
of Caerwyn Martel as monarch of the Empire. The Assembly that
elected him has no jurisdiction over any Imperial citizens
anywhere. Its rulings are not binding upon anyone, and that body
has been officially declared defunct.

“Furthermore, our Empire stands behind a
monarch already. Queen Kalila Akira is the
true
successor of
Hisato Akira, and she reigns as Guardian of the Empire and
Protector of the Realm. She is the Heiress to the Andrevine and the
Sixth Monarch of the Empire. Let it be known far and wide, the
Empire kneels before a queen and not a king. Kalila Akira is our
monarch by rights and Caerwyn Martel is a fraud, a pretender, and a
usurper. The Royal Assembly declares it so.”

As she watched the Royal Assembly speak her
words for her, helping to combat the misinformation so pervasively
spread by Caerwyn Martel, Kalila knew it would soon return to blood
between herself and Caerwyn. Although, since Apollo, their fighting
had turned to rhetoric and propaganda, and in his case pompous and
idiotic acts of symbolic value, now he had done the very thing that
would demand a military response from one side or the other, or
both.

There now existed
two
competing
monarchs and just
one
kingdom, and each monarch had command
of fleets which now had been, by and large, restored to a state of
battle readiness.
Now he can attack my worlds without fear of a
massive political backlash
, she thought. Knowing that hereafter
Caerwyn could claim any attack he made on another human world, so
long as it had declared for Queen Kalila, was a justified, and even
necessary, action to “restore the Empire.”

She too could attack his worlds under similar
conditions. It was one thing to oppose a political assembly of
elected legislative officials plus the fleets they controlled and
defend herself from their demands of her capture. But it was quite
another to stand as monarch and have to deal with the challenge
presented by a competing monarch. To do nothing would be to imply
her acceptance of his claim. For him to do nothing would be seen no
differently. So it
must
necessarily come to lethal blows
between her loyal supporters and his.

We shall fight again soon. Very soon. Too
soon
.

***

“Yes, he gave me the confirmation some time
ago,” said Raidan.

He was in the privacy of his office, engaging
in an encrypted and clandestine communication with Tristan who,
evidently, was more than happy to broadcast from the command
position of his ship. Raidan normally would have objected to their
conversation happening in front of Tristan’s Bridge crew, but he
happened to know Tristan had a very low tolerance for disloyalty
among his people and tended to surround himself with officers who
were absolutely terrified of his wrath. They would keep the
conversation secret, or so Raidan hoped.

“He confirmed what, exactly? That he has
them, or he knows Zander has them?” asked Tristan.

“Captain Pellew was very brief in his
communication,” admitted Raidan, “but he told me everything I
needed to know. Zander did have all the weapons, but by the time
the
Nighthawk
overtook the
Duchess
it was too late;
Zander had already given them all away.”

“More like sold them,” said Tristan, his eyes
glowing red at the news. No one hated Zander for his betrayal more
than Tristan. It was probably, therefore, a good thing for Zander
that he was already space dust.

“Yes, sold them. And I believe to the
Rahajiim,” said Raidan.

“Fifteen isotome weapons in the hands of the
Rahajiim…” said Tristan. “That makes things very dark for your
people, Raidan, very dark.”

“If things are dark for us, then they are
dark for
you
,” said Raidan. A fact Tristan seemed to accept,
but occasionally had to be reminded of.

“I imagine once they get those missiles into
the hands of a proper fleet, the Rotham will come knocking at your
door, and they’ll do it with a very big hammer.”

“Yes, I think that’s a foregone conclusion,”
said Raidan.

It was already known that the Alliance had
fallen to some evil cooperation between the Rotham Republic and the
Enclave, which removed the one great barrier which stood between
the Rotham and the Empire. It was also well known that the Rotham
had ambitions inside Imperial space; they’d already essentially
conquered Renora and, by all accounts, they wouldn’t stop there.
Some whisperers suggested the Rotham intended to eliminate humanity
as a threat to them once and for all. That could only mean the
elimination of the Empire; possibly even extinction for humanity
altogether. Raidan hoped such extreme plans weren’t actually the
game the Rahajiim seemed to be playing, using the Rotham Senate and
military as pawns, but he knew whatever they were up to, it was no
good. And that they were willing to use extreme measures to reach
their ends.

With the Imperial military engaged in civil
war, weakening itself with each engagement, it was only a matter of
time before the Rotham could spill over the border and have their
pick of any of the Imperial worlds. For all Raidan knew, they could
already, especially now that they had the potential to darken
entire stars and eliminate whole systems. Most likely the human
worlds would submit to their rule rather than risk annihilation.
And that would be that: the end of humanity as they knew it.

“There was one small shred of hope Pellew was
able to give me,” said Raidan.

“And what is that?” asked Tristan.

“The isotome weapons Zander sold to the
Rahajiim, or whoever he gave them to, he only handed over fourteen
of them.”

“So our count was wrong, then?”

“No, our count was right. That means Zander
intended to keep one isotome weapon for himself, perhaps for sale
later. Imagine the price when it’s the last one left.” Raidan
leaned forward in his chair. “At least, that
had
been
Zander’s plan, I’m willing to wager.”

“Well, I’ve been tracking them as best I’m
able,” said Tristan. “We know the
Duchess
stopped in dead
space near a neutron star. We’re locked onto those coordinates and
will be there soon. We also suspect the
Nighthawk
followed
them there. This is the interesting part,” said Tristan. “Our scans
currently show a lot of synthetic debris and nothing else. In other
words, there
is
a ship at those coordinates, but it's in
very small pieces. My question is,
Nighthawk
or
Duchess
?”

“I’m already ahead of you there,” said
Raidan. “According to Pellew, he was able to board the
Duchess
and capture the last isotome missile and bring it
aboard the
Nighthawk
, after which he ignited charges on the
Duchess
, eliminating it and all aboard.”

“
He
killed Zander?” said Tristan,
looking unsurprisingly furious. “That was supposed to be me,” he
said, his eyes glowing red again.

“According to Pellew, Zander’s own crew did
him in before the
Nighthawk’s
soldiers had even arrived,”
said Raidan. “But either way, you’re missing the point. Pellew was
able capture one of the isotome weapons, which means one of the
weapons belongs to
us
.”

“That's good,” said Tristan. “But one against
fourteen isn't a contest I'm optimistic about.”

“Yes, the other fourteen remain unaccounted
for. And yes, they almost certainly are in the hands of our
enemies, whether the Rahajiim has them now or is in the process of
getting them. Those fourteen weapons are going to be a very serious
problem,” admitted Raidan. “But now we have an
option
. Now
they know if they start using their weapons against our systems,
even against just one of them, we could use ours against them,
possibly even as deep inside their space as the planet Ro itself.
The senate won’t risk that. The Military Command won’t risk that.
Which means the Rahajiim can’t risk that. Even with one isotome
weapon, we have deterrence power!”