Sigil of the Wolf - 13. Chapter 13

HMS Excalibur - holding position, unknown location

Darien assessed the cost of breaking the Amsus blockade the week before, the final tallies arriving on his desk. They had expended a lot of ammunition; several fighters had been destroyed or were unsalvageable. The loss of human life...

Slowly he lowered the attrition report, folding it gently down the middle, knowing that he would have to post it up in the wardroom and proper services would have to be arranged. Chief among the names of the dead was Chef's. The kitchen tyrant, watching the Amsus invade his kitchen, had defended his domain with his life. It would be a major blow to morale, but then so was the sobering first battle after so much time away.

He supposed he would get used to it, but then he knew that he never could. They were his crew, and each loss was a painful one. He slid the paper across the desk and turned back to the cold sunlight of the local star. Repairs were underway, the engineering crews vowing to have the ship's systems up and running in no time. It would have been faster had Elias been there, he would have been able to work the miracles only he seemed to be able to work and the ship would have been underway again.

He looked up as an F-175 fighter curved in close to the rear flight deck of the ship, waggling its wings and flashing its landing lights as it came in closer to his windows. The Highlord smiled to himself as he stood up, recognizing the markings of Katz's fighter and offering a salute. A few of the pilots that had been with him the longest seemed to enjoy that ritual; at sometime during their Combat Air Patrol they would sweep up close to the stern windows and flash their running lights, as if to remind the solitary commander that he wasn't alone in his thoughts.

Katz was a good pilot, probably one of the best in the Empire. Masconi was meticulous in keeping track of her pilots' performances and while she was good, he was undoubtedly Excalibur's top ace, one of the only good things to survive Wing Commander Kendrick's insanity.

Darien had read Katz's file, he knew all about the Karin slave markets.

So many broken people finding company aboard that ship.

"Highlord?" Commander Durnham materialized and Darien looked up, "Sir, Excalibur has calculated the position of the Kardiac House transports, they're approximately seventeen light-years from our original jump destination, approximately a week away from the old Imperial home systems..."

"She's eager to go home," Darien replied, crossing his legs and leaning back in the chair comfortably. If they had the firepower, a push on Earth would have been so easy. But all Darien wanted was to turn the Excalibur around and go after Evans and Iver, the barely-controlled rage at what they had done to him simmering beneath the surface.

"It's been well over three hundred years since either of us has seen Earth," Kit reminded him sadly.

Darien stroked his chin; it had been nearly three years for him as well, reflecting on it. A year on the run from the Amsus who accused him of being a fifth column resistance leader. And two years of starships, of galactic politics and of... he gritted his teeth thinking about the short guy with the bright eyes who had made his world.

"We'll get there," Darien promised sincerely, again looking down at the Peligian journal he'd read from cover to cover.

"You're going to open the files." Kit observed.

Darien looked up over the rims of his glasses. "There are indications in here," he patted the worn leather book, "That it is some kind of oracle, a way to see the future, I'm wondering if VonGrippen saw something that made him do what he did..."

"I always assumed he had his reasons," Kit replied.

"Even so," Darien remarked, "A Warlord of the Empire doesn't simply up and abandon his entire species because he feels like it." Darien rested his hand on the book. "You said he mounted an expedition to Peligia and shortly afterwards he began to make preparations."

"Yes," Kit nodded, "Our fleets were redeployed slowly so as to not arouse suspicion. He slowly sent more and more resources to the Apilon Rift and the gate he had constructed there."

"I want to know these reasons," Darien surmised, "And I want to know why Rikard is so interested in finding this place."

"Shall I open the files?" Kit pressed.

Darien looked up. "That would be best."

* * *

It was garbled and near unintelligible. VonGrippen's notes were no clearer than the diary had been. Charts and maps that seemed to lead nowhere, records of constellations that didn't exist. Rambling thoughts that only offered more cryptic clues about the mysterious location of Peligia.

Darien sat back from the files, yawning and fixing himself another mug of coffee. The running theme in both the book and VonGrippen's files were that the Peligians were in possession of sciences that allowed them to manipulate the very fabric of time and space. They had been an ultra-sophisticated race, wiped out by the Polians millennia ago.

A race of beings that could transport individuals great distances without the need for ships, or literally bring people back from the dead.

Darien shifted, looking curiously up at the ship about him, the reason for VonGrippen's obsession becoming clear. "He lost his wife, didn't he," he asked the holographic commander who was assisting him.

Kit nodded. "It was a tremendous blow to him. He loved her very much."

Darien folded his arms. "If they could bring people back from the dead..."

"Rikard has demonstrated that he too possesses this capability," Kit reminded, adjusting his glasses thoughtfully.

Darien stood walking around his desk and pointing to where the news feed typically displayed. "Commander, replay the footage of Matt... Prince Edward taken on Sentinel Station."

"You have an idea?" Kit inquired, standing as the footage began to replay.

"I used to be a TER-SEC inspector, it was my job to take clues and put them together." Darien stared thoughtfully at the Prince, knowing that his judgement was clouded, but if Rikard could bring Lauren back to life...

"You think Rikard was behind this?" Kit surmised, putting the pieces together for himself.

"It still doesn't explain why Rikard is after Peligia, if he knows how to..." Darien shook his head, pieces were still missing, but the pieces he did have painted a very dark picture of who was behind Iver's revolution.

Kit folded his arms as he joined Darien staring at the image of the young man.

"I don't remember what he looks like, but Excalibur remembers him," he said with a nod, "He grew up on this ship."

"She knew?" Darien asked, turning slightly.

Kit shook his head. "It was a feeling of familiarity, one she couldn't explain at the time."

"Tell me about Prince Edward," Darien said, settling down on the couch and looking desperately at the Commander.

Kit pursed his lips, contemplating how he should begin, as he in turn sat across from the Highlord. "He was an inquisitive boy when he came onboard - very, very shy though. His father had just died..." Kit shook his head, "It's strange, it's like having partial memories of something you know happened, but you have no images..."

Darien nodded. "It must be disconcerting."

"Mildly," Kit agreed, "But you're not interested in details, you want to know what kind of person Prince Edward was... is."

There was a certain irony in discussing the dead with a person who was himself a memory of another dead man. Darien shifted and leaned forward. "You know what I need to know."

"You want to know how much of the young man you loved is still in him," Kit looked up at the image. "Comparatively, Edward and Elias are quite alike. They had similar temperaments, mannerisms, and compassion. It's interesting to view how much of a personality is hereditary and how much is behaviourally learned." The commander paused, realizing he was rambling, "If he is anything like the boy that grew up on this ship, then he's a good man. VonGrippen raised him, and we VonGrippens are good people."

Darien looked up at the Falcon Banner in the corner of the room, and with all the House pride flying thick and fast around him, he wondered if that was true anymore.

"If that is Prince Edward," Darien said, his words drawn out as he reflected on what he was saying, "Isn't it our duty to support him?"

"Its our duty to protect him," Kit said firmly, "and if he is being manipulated by other forces..."

"We have no room for these kinds of conflicts," Darien stood and picked up the attrition report, "The Amsus won't just stand by while we fall into a civil war, they are going to strike and keep coming until the Empire collapses..."

There was a knock at the door as Sub-Lieutenant Galadriel poked her head around it. "Highlord, we're ready to make the jump and link up with the Kardiac transports."

Darien stood, walking up to sweep the black greatcoat off of the back of his chair, settling it on as he exited to the battle-ready bridge. He took up a position between the two Conn chairs, watching as the Excalibur began its last hyperspace jump, shimmering as it plunged ahead into the next system.

The tactical boards lit up immediately with the collection of Imperial transports huddled together, desperately awaiting escort before they attempted the perilous journey back across the front lines. Lightly defended, they would have been at the mercy of any Amsus battle group that stumbled upon them; only good fortune, it seemed, had spared House Kardiac.

Masconi was hovering nervously down on the lower level near to Nazzien, the Wing Commander nervously awaiting word about her friends and family. Not that Darien could blame her, he was worried as well. The members of House Kardiac had fought alongside them since Tempus, and while tensions were usually high between the two Houses, they'd fought and shared blood together.

"Have the Excalibur take up escort stations, and dispatch a full BARCAP around the fleet," Darien ordered, "Signal the lead ship and inform Colonel Ramsey that we are here to escort him and stand ready to receive his command staff aboard the flagship."

* * *

Ramsey appeared older, the full bird Colonel had seen a lot of sustained action and it showed in his eyes. Limping slightly from a wound he insisted was nothing, he showed himself into the Highlord's stateroom, coming before the desk and offering a salute.

"You have no idea how happy we are to see you." Ramsey said, genuine relief in his voice.

Darien smiled and nodded. "I can imagine, I'm sorry it's taken us this long to get to you..."

"When do we link up with the rest of your squadron?" Colonel Ramsey inquired, his eyes looking hopeful.

Darien licked his lips uncertainly. "This is all I have..."

"General Iver assured me that he was sending support." The Colonel looked confused, glancing at his daughter, Masconi, who shook her head slowly, "Bastard lied to me, didn't he..."

"You have my word," Darien insisted, "I'm going to get you and your men back to the Imperial lines."

"With respect, Highlord," Colonel Ramsey said shaking his head, "I believe you'll do all you can, but one ship..."

"I got you there once," Darien said firmly, "I'll get you there again."

Ramsey sank into one of the couches, letting his tired head fall back. "My men have been cramped in transports for a week... Anyway, can I impose on your hospitality Highlord?"

"I'll make arrangements to rotate your men through the Excalibur, and ensure that they have access to our facilities," Darien said, nodding again as he made some notes on his computer; it was going to be a tight fit, but if he moved the Fida'i, billet them aboard R-403, he could free up some room... "You need to tell me what happened on the colony."

Colonel Ramsey shifted, unbuttoning his worn battle-dress tunic and rubbing his tired face. "Honestly, we're not sure. There was no indication of invasion, we had secured the colony and were in mop-up operations when the first battalion attacked our outer defence perimeter around one of the outlying settlements. Light infantry units, but so many of them..." He shook his head, "We out-gunned them, our Mechs and ITEs were able to hold them back, but they kept sending waves of these troops at our positions... Then they started to appear inside our perimeters, overrunning the cities and bases." Ramsey closed his eyes and forced them open again, meeting Darien's gaze, "We took some footage, it was like they were able to jump entire platoons of units onto the planet, anywhere they were needed. By the time I ordered the retreat, there were hundreds of thousands of Amsus troopers on the ground..."

"No air support?" Darien asked, thinking back to Excalibur's recent boarding, the Amsus troopers appearing out of thin air.

"No, nothing, which was why we were able to retreat with the transports." Ramsey sat upright, "No pursuit, no nothing, they just let us go, knowing we had nowhere to run to."

Darien looked thoughtfully over at Commander Durnham and back at the exhausted Colonel, sliding the small leather-bound book towards him and flipping through to the appropriate page. "Propylons," Darien said, turning the book and displaying the ring of stones diagrammed on the page surrounded by Peligian script.

"What?" Ramsey asked, standing to get a better look at what Darien was showing him.

"A device capable of transiting small groups of people via hyperspace," Darien said, taking a deep breath as he looked down at the small journal, "I don't have much more than a reference, but if the Amsus have one of these..."

"They could put people aboard Sentinel Station and shut down the guns without worrying about our defences." Ramsey surmised, standing shakily.

Darien nodded. There was a more pressing threat than Iver's insurgency: with the Amsus in possession of a device that turned the war in their favour, Darien couldn't afford to ignore the threat. They were the only fighting force behind Amsus lines, worn out, with barely any ammunition, protecting a flotilla of nearly defenceless troop transports.

They were in no position to mount any kind of assault. Their only hope lay in a circuitous route back to Taïrian territory, re-supplying at one of their fire support bases. It would be tricky, and they would have to rely heavily upon the fighters to cover them, but with a little guile they could make it.

He began to pull charts from the shelves and spread them across his desk, examining the route he would have to take. It was a manoeuvre that would take him further away from the Empire, and from Elias, but there was no other option left open to them.

Masconi beckoned her father off to one side as Darien plotted their course, taking the time to reassure herself that her father was all right. Despite all of the animosity that flowed between them, she was still his little girl, and she cared about him, though her professionalism would never let it show for long.

"There's been some changes," she said, leaning a little to make sure she was not being overheard, "They've found a way to resurrect the Prince..."

* * *

Walker von Karin stood beside the roaring fire shedding light on the oversized room in the fortress residence he had lived in most of his life. The glass of port held loosely in his hand, he stared, other hand braced against the mantle, into the flames.

His grand hopes for a new Empire teetered on the edge of something very dark, pushed there by a friend, an ally, a man he had trusted. He turned from the flames, feeling his age as he looked at the General who in turn was watching him from the doorway.

"What do you hope to gain from this?" Walker asked. There was no need of pretences, Iver could protest all he wanted but Walker was smart enough to figure it out. "You killed a friend of mine..."

Iver stood easily in the doorway, his uniform tunic hanging open, the yellow 'blood flap' displayed in the traditional Imperial fashion. "I'm restoring the Empire," Iver said firmly, "and I am going to free Earth."

"Really?" Walker chuckled dryly, "All by yourself? Without the Senate, without Highlord Taine or even me? You are going to save the galaxy single-handed?"

"Someone has to," Iver said, entering the room, his hands sliding into his pockets, "You could have been the next Emperor," he insisted, shaking his head sadly, "I would have followed you into hell itself. Instead, you chose to give the Empire away to politicians and bureaucrats, penny-pinchers who value money over people's lives..."

"And now?" Walker asked, "I suppose you're here to arrest me?"

"I could," Iver said simply, "My forces control the capital worlds, all of the garrisons and the Senate. In days I'll have enough troops on the surface of Karin to ensure that there will be no resistance."

"How?" Walker demanded, "That many troops won't go unnoticed... Sanchez." Walker took a deep breath; the state funeral for Senator Sanchez would occur in mere days, the honour guard for the head of the Defence Committee would have fallen to General Iver to organize.

Iver smiled chillingly. "You've already lost," the General said calmly.

"Then why am I still alive?" Walker asked calmly, sipping his port, "Unless of course you need me to legitimise your clone Prince."

Iver shrugged again. "You have little choice. You're a politician, you know that by supporting the Prince maybe you'll retain your position, and some of your reforms may survive with you." Iver reached out and took Walker's glass from him, lifting it in a toast, "If not..."

Walker folded his arms, knowing that he had no other choice. His people needed him alive and in a position of influence. He'd survived under the Pirate Barons, and he'd survive this. "What do I have to do?" he asked sombrely.

Iver nodded setting the glass down. "Be the Highlord von Karin." He said formally.

* * *

He'd seen the Apilon Rift before; his grandfather had earned a name for himself liberating that frontier from the bloodthirsty Goreans - dark, saurian creatures that viewed all other life as mere food for their insatiable appetites.

There were numerous House VonGrippen assets squirreled away in that forgotten part of space; the old Highlord had ensured that when things became too bad inside the Empire he had had a place to retreat to. Edward wondered how many of those had survived three hundred years of neglect, abandonment and plundering.

He yawned tiredly. It seemed that he could never get any restful sleep; exhaustion tugged at him. Even the sleeping pills he had been given by the medics didn't seem to help. He wished he could put it down to travel sickness. The commuter liner he was on, bound for Karin, had just began the final leg of the journey from Eisenhower Station. It was more comfort and luxury he wasn't accustomed to.

He got up to get a glass of water, pausing looking up at his own face, had he been expecting to see someone else there? He ran his hand through the silken black hair, peering at his bloodshot blue eyes. Something didn't feel right, and he couldn't place it.

He lifted the edge of his tee shirt, rubbing his side along his abdomen. It was as if instinctually he knew there was something wrong and he was searching for it. He shrugged it off as just nerves.

There were several guards outside his door, out of armour but Edward knew a Praetorian when he smelled one. True, House von Karin called them Wolves, but they were still the same heavily armed behemoths that had guarded the Imperial palace before the fall, terror soldiers reaching out to enforce the Chancellor's will across the galaxy.

He wandered back to a couch, sitting down and watching the stars slip by the window, rubbing his head. There was a strange buzz wherever he went, news cameras and photographers taking pictures of his every move. He wasn't used to it, and he often found he drew back from them, seeking a way out. His grandfather had sheltered him as much as he could throughout his youth, protecting the heir to the immortal Emperor...

Edward cradled his temple, shaking his head at that. How could anyone be an heir to someone who was immortal? A man no one would allow to die because it would threaten their positions of prominence. Respirators and surgery holding a tired old man to a life he no longer wanted or needed, lying in state for all to view the desiccated living corpse touted as their illustrious leader.

Would Evans and his political master do the same to him?

Edward shivered despite the carefully climate-controlled environment aboard the liner. He was trapped without allies or friends, three hundred years out of his own time. He'd have to be strong; he was a VonGrippen after all. His grandfather had taught him how to survive and while the old man was no longer alive to guide him, he still had his wisdom.

Find an ally, find the one person they don't want you to find, the one person they are afraid of, and let him help you to get free.

That had to be Highlord Taine, there was so much care and effort going into discrediting the Highlord and branding him a terrorist... a sledgehammer approach to propaganda that showed that whoever was doing it had a ham-fisted, military approach to politics. But it did tell the young Prince who he could turn to. Now all he had to do was find a way to get a message to him.

* * *

Darien couldn't sleep, standing in his greatcoat down on the seldom-used main hangar deck of the Excalibur. Fighter operations were handled from the support carriers, leaving the main hangar deck free for shuttle and drop ship traffic and emergencies. At that time of night, it was usually quiet except for the occasional sound of work in one of the many machine shops that backed onto the hangar deck. Marine equipment was being repaired, or fighters being worked on.

He ignored it as he stood, hands deep in the pockets of the thick woollen coat, its collar turned up against an imagined chill, thinking.

They were waiting till the last Transport powered up its jump drives, ready to make the long journey to Taïrian space, further away from the Empire and from him...

Darien missed him terribly. In all the bleakness of the war, that young man was the reason he did the things he did, his reason to fight, yet that reason was no longer... He had to stop that line of thought. Elias wasn't dead, there was a way to get him back, it involved finding this forgotten place called Peligia, stopping the Amsus doomsday weapon and making things right again.

The Empire had come into being because of the things he had done, all in the name of a memory...

"Highlord!" Nazzien clambered down one of the gangway ladders, crossing the deck to extend a communiqué, "Sir, I received word back from the Denver Corporation."

Darien took the slip of paper, smiling as he read over the invitation, the first piece of good news they had received since leaving port. At least out in the universe at large, there were still people willing to listen to what the Empire had to offer.

"He's asking that we take passage on his Tradeliner..." Darien noted.

"The Shifting Sands," Nazzien nodded, "We're deep in Amsus territory. If Excalibur links up with a 'neutral' vessel it might provoke an attack, we can make planetfall on the Zemûn home world and..."

Darien shook his head. "That's not a good idea..."

Nazzien shrugged. "We don't have much choice, the invitation has a five day limit and we're already two days into it. So long as you keep hidden..."

"I think they are going to notice a human on their world," Darien said, "They don't take kindly to my kind. If I am discovered there..."

Nazzien shrugged again. "We don't have much choice but to try."

Darien chewed his lip carefully. "Very well, I want you and Doctor Kyr to come along. I'd rather minimize the human presence if we're going to attempt this..." he shook his head, a bad feeling beginning to form in his stomach. There were some acts of history the Amsus wouldn't allow humanity to forget; amongst them was the near genocide of the Zemûn people by Kardiac's templar.

He turned from the hanger deck, sweeping his coat close about him as he struggled with his thoughts. They had to be desperate for him to be considering going to Ararat...

James was sitting on the cold metal steps, his coat spread out about him as he fiddled with one of his black knives, "the Aga-Khan is brave to consider this course of action." He said evenly.

Darien sank his hands into his pockets, "Do you eavesdrop on all my conversations?" he asked in amusement.

"Yes," James replied, looking up. He looked a little puzzled as if he couldn't understand why Darien would expect otherwise. He shrugged and went back to fiddling with the handle of his knife, "The Aga-Khan is going to go alone?"

"This time I have to," Darien hoped he could actually convince the stubborn assassin to listen to him.

James considered it and shrugged again, "As you wish..." He rose.

"That's it?" Darien asked, confused, "Aren't you going to argue, complain that it is your duty to protect me?"

James turned back, "Why say that which you already know?" he shook his head, smiling at how strange the Aga-Khan could be at times as he slipped into the shadows again leaving Darien to his thoughts.