Death to the Imperium (Imperium Cicernus) (15 page)

Once
Glitz had retrieved his possessions, they boarded Alyce’s ship, which was named
Middlemarch
. Alyce explained that it was named after a book of
questionable veracity, which was possibly from the times before the Imperium.
Most scholars doubted its authenticity, claiming that it was a forgery created
by humanities students at Edo University, but if it
was
true, it painted
a picture of a past human civilisation far more alien than that of the Snakes
or other alien species known to the Imperium.

The
Middlemarch
, which was Alyce’s private cruiser and not owned by the Navy,
was incredibly luxurious. The exterior design was quite muted; Alyce explained
that this was to avoid the attention of space pirates who might otherwise smell
rich pickings. But when they entered the ship, Glitz was astounded by the
interior. The floors were all richly carpeted, and the walls were panelled with
limewood. Holo-paintings hung on the wall corridors, depicting members of the noble
Rejak-Thohne family.

“Ostentatious,
isn’t it?” Alyce said, with some distaste. “It used to belong to my mother, but
she doesn’t fly anymore because she was diagnosed with Heronie’s disease.”

“You
mean you don’t
like
it?”

She
grinned. “I wouldn’t say that. It’s just a bit… over the top. I guess I’m just
a simple girl with simple pleasures. Talking of which… the dining room is
through here. Oh, wait, let me set the autopilot first.”

Alyce
brought the ship into phase space, and set the ship to travel towards the
Nosferatu System. If there were any problems, there was a remote console in the
dining room, which she could use to perform course-correction. Glitz and Alyce
entered the dining room, which had a long limewood table. They were greeted by
a smartly-dressed waiting robot, who showed them to the table and took their
orders.

“So
we can order anything?”

Alyce
nodded. “The ship is fitted with a marvellous food synthesiser. That’s one
thing about the ship that
is
to my tastes.”

Glitz
ordered a beefsteak. When it arrived, he stared at it suspiciously—it more
resembled a block of grey rubber than a delicious steak. He tasted a chunk,
warily, but to his surprise the texture and taste were identical to a real
steak. It was simply the appearance that was inaccurate.

“So
when do you return to work, Captain?”

“There’s
no need to call me Captain. Alyce is fine. I’ve still got nearly a week of
leave—the Navy were very generous after our mission. I’m assigned to roaming duties
around the outer worlds for the next few months—I told the Admiral I would
rather fight Ozytan on the front line, but he thinks I’m too inexperienced. And
that after
we
found out about the Weerms in the first place!”

“All
the same, you must be looking forward to going back.”

“In
a way…” She paused. “I don’t know. In a way, I feel more like myself when I’m
not
commanding a ship.”

“I’ve
noticed a difference in you,” Glitz observed. “You seem a lot calmer. Happier.”

“I’ve
always wanted to command a ship—ever since I was a little girl. I had posters
of every type of spaceship you can imagine pinned up on my bedroom wall, and
I’d spend hours dreaming about planets right out on the Rim. I figured that
joining the Navy would be the best way to travel—I’d be seeing the stars and
serving the Imperium at the same time.”

“But
it’s not what you thought?”

“I
suppose…” She paused thoughtfully. “The actual travelling is wonderful. And I
love to serve the Imperium. But there’s so much red tape, so much damn bureaucracy.
You can’t even carry out a simple reconnaissance operation without filling in
half a dozen forms afterwards. The whole Navy superstructure is, in my view,
stifling.”

Glitz
paused. “It seems strange to be sitting here eating beefsteak when there’s a war
going on out there in the Paradonian Sector. Any moment, Ozytan could use his Weerms
to strike at the seat of the Imperium.”

“Perhaps.
But even with such terrible creatures, it would take an awful lot to bring down
the Imperium… Anyway, we’re doing our service to the Emperor by checking out
this star chart. If there
is
a way to contact the Zierons, we might be
able to end this whole damn conflict.”

Glitz
smiled at Alyce. If he was being truly honest with himself, the idea of
actually locating the Zierons seemed ridiculous. Everyone knew that they were
the stuff of fables. The idea of a benevolent, all-powerful aliens who would
return to save the human race… it was ridiculous. Perhaps the belief in such a
creature stemmed from the same natural desire that led people to believe in a
God. Maybe humans wanted someone else to take responsibility for the ownership
of the Universe, so they could feel at ease doing nothing to prevent evil.

But
the journey gave him some time to catch up with Alyce, which was a surprisingly
refreshing experience. There was no petty squabbling or one-upmanship. The
relationship paradigm had shifted; Glitz was no longer a civilian under her
direct control, but they were equal partners in the mission to look for the
wormhole. The journey was quite short, thanks to the phase drive, and it wasn’t
long before they entered the Nosferatu Sector.

Glitz
was standing on the flight deck, watching Alyce from the back as she brought
the ship out of phase space. She was wearing a tight skirt and a fitted leather
jacket, which Glitz found to be remarkably arousing. The stars became visible
again, and Alyce sighed.

“I
always hate that part of journeys—coming out of phase space.”

“Scared
something will go wrong?”

Alyce
nodded and laughed. The Nosferatu Sector was a vast sector that was almost the
size of the Gold and Silver Sectors combined. Most of the planets in the Sector
had large alien populations, and many contained valuable natural resources.

“Watch
out for pirates,” Glitz muttered.

The
East Galaxy Company had ceased to trade with the Nosferatu Sector nearly ten
years ago, due to the area becoming infamous for pirate activity. Several of
the EGC’s freighters had been ransacked by vicious space bandits, and the
company had decided to draw permanently out of the area. The rich pickings on
some of the planets were simply not worth the risk. Only the Interstellar
Couriers could ferry goods to and from the Sector without fear of hijacking;
even the ruthless pirates would think twice before attacking a vessel with such
strong links with the Imperium.

“So
where’s this wormhole of yours?”

Alyce
consulted the old piece of paper that she had carried with her. Glitz glanced
at it over her shoulder. It was so old that it was nearly falling to pieces,
but the ink was still readable.

“According
to old Cillian Rejak, the location of the wormhole is less than a parsec away.
I just need to get my bearings, and then we can go there.”

“Is
it near a planet?”

“No.
The co-ordinates seem to be in the middle of nowhere.”

“So
what’s the plan? We travel to this part of space and the wormhole is right
there, ready for us to jump through it?”

Alyce
grinned. “Of course not. If that were the case, someone would have found it a
long time ago.”

Glitz
frowned at Alyce, wondering vaguely if she had lost her mind. Opening a
wormhole required complex calculations and colossal processing power—none of which
could be provided by the
Middlemarch
, even though it was a fine ship.
But he decided not to argue with her. It would not be long until they reached
the co-ordinates, and Alyce could get the idea of the Zierons out of her
system. Within the hour, they were looking at the main scanner at the point
where the wormhole was supposed to be.

“Nothing.”
Glitz shrugged. “Let’s be honest. We didn’t really expect to find anything
here, did we?”

Glitz
stared out at the emptiness of space. The great blackness was broken only by
occasional stars. The scanner had highlighted the area of space where the
wormhole was supposed to be using a 3D overlay grid. There was nothing. Not
even the slightest disturbance, energy trace, or flicker.

“I’m
not finished yet,” Alyce replied. She pulled a necklace from around her neck. A
crystal pendant attached to a gold mount glimmered at the end. “This is a Star
Point crystal. It is the only such crystal ever to be found in our galaxy. Our
family history claims that it used to belong to Cillian Rejak, and that it was
passed through his descendants over the centuries.”

“It’s
pretty.”

“Yes.
It might also be a little piece of Zieron.”

“What
do you mean?”

“Well,
think about it. The legend says that Cillian Rejak met the Zierons. And this
crystal seems to be utterly unique. What if this crystal is so unusual
because
it came from a different galaxy
?”

“Seems
a little farfetched.”

“Well,
perhaps. But think for a second. Some scientists have argued for the existence
of natural wormholes—two singularities resonating due to natural causes, rather
than human interference. If there
is
a connection here between our
galaxy and another, perhaps the presence of something from the other galaxy
will stimulate the resonation.”

“Is
this all speculation? You been reading up on wormholes?”

Alyce
chuckled. “Not really. My great-uncle was a professor at the University of
Homeworld, a spacetime expert. He studied this crystal for most of his life,
and ventured that it was some kind of device for opening up closed wormholes.”

“So
if it
is
a wormhole thing… how do we use it?”

She
lifted the crystal to her eye thoughtfully. She was certainly no expert on
wormholes, and her great-uncle had sadly died before managing to complete his
research on the Star Point crystal. If the Zierons
had
left the crystal
with her ancestor as a sort of recall device, it would have to be quite simple
to operate. But how…? As she watched, a tiny light appeared inside the crystal,
the glow oscillating like a tiny visual heartbeat.

“Something’s
happening,” Alyce whispered.

On
the scanner, a similar light appeared. It flashed out from the black chasm of
space, pulsing. It was like the glow that appears in a pile of embers when it
seems the fire has completely died, re-igniting the dry wood. Now Alyce’s Star
Point crystal was causing the regeneration of the natural wormhole. Within a
few seconds, the wormhole had enlarged and stabilised. In contrast to a
man-made wormhole, it was fiery orange—it almost seemed to be made of pure
fire. Alyce and Glitz stared at the flaming circle, their eyes wide.

“Shall
we?” Alyce said, diverting her eyes from the mesmerising shape.

Glitz
nodded.

“It
might be dangerous.”

“It
might save the Imperium,” Glitz replied. A year ago, he would never have
believed it if someone told him he would enter a glowing vortex, uncertain if
he would survive the experience. He had always been very focussed on his own
well-being, with little thought to the needs of others. But being with Alyce—as
cheesy as it sounded—brought out a different side to him. When he looked at the
woman, he felt like he wanted to be a good man, to act for the benefit of
others.

“Let’s
do it,” Alyce said.

Glitz
put his hand on the directional control, and Alyce placed her own hand on top
of his. After checking the co-ordinates, they pushed the lever together,
causing the ship to enter the burning wormhole.

There
was a flash of fire, and the galaxy disappeared.

Glitz
awoke to the sound of birds chirping. Before he opened his eyes, he was aware
of warm sunlight touching his eyelids. He sat up slowly, and glanced around
with surprised eyes. He was lying in the middle of some kind of green meadow,
which was planted with flowers in shades of pink, red and blue. The scent of
the flowers wafted into his nostrils, making him feel strangely calm.

He
became aware of Alyce lying next to him. She was wearing a stunning pink dress,
that was woven from a most delicate material. Ne nudged her, gently, and her
eyelids fluttered open. She took in the scene, feeling quite disoriented.

“What
are you
wearing
?” she said.

Glitz
looked down at himself. He was attired in a cream-coloured suit, with a white
shirt unbuttoned at the neck. It would have only taken a straw hat to complete
the ensemble. As soon as this thought appeared in his mind, he felt something
brush against his head. Reaching up, he picked the object from his head. It was
a straw hat, exactly like the one he had just imagined. He put the hat back on
his head and stood up, holding out a hand to Alyce. Glitz lifted her up, and
they stood hand-in-hand, surveying the garden. The meadow seemed to stretch on
for miles—a never-ending expanse of hills, crystal streams, and delicate
flowers. There was not another person in sight. The sky was blue and unmarred
by a single cloud.

“How
did we get here?” Alyce breathed. And then, answering her own question, she
added, “The wormhole. We passed through it and then… we must have fallen asleep
somehow. But what sort of place is this? And where is our ship?”

“I’d
like to know the answers to those questions, too,” Glitz said. He looked around
the verdant landscape, trying to spot any movement that might reveal the
location of another being. But everything was still and tranquil. “Hello!” he
shouted. “Is anyone out here?”

With
a flash of light, an old man appeared, wearing a sort of buttonless navy suit. Although
he was humanoid, Glitz suspected that he was an alien. There were no physical
details to support this assessment, but so much about him—his bearing, his
smile, his intensity of gaze—seemed totally inhuman.

“Who
are you?” Glitz said harshly. “What is this place?”

“My
apologies if I startled you,” the man said. “I am aware that some species do
not enjoy the benefits of teleportation technology. As it happens, we find it
to be a very useful means of getting around. The Zieron Empire encompasses
three galaxies, so it is quite essential.”

“So
you are real!” Alyce grinned at Glitz. “Looks like the Rejak-Thohnes aren’t as
mad as everyone thinks!”

“Rejak-Thohne.”
The old man seemed thoughtful for a moment. “The name sounds familiar. Ah, I
see it. A creature named Cillian Rejak once met a member of our race. We have a
collective memory, you see. Every scholarly Zieron shares the common experience
of every other Zieron in history. This is our way of ensuring that valuable
knowledge is never lost.” He paused, as if consulting the archive of his
memory. “So you are… humans. Now let me see. Inhabitants of the galaxy you call
‘Milky Way’. We encountered your species when we were investigating a natural
wormhole that had opened between our galaxy and yours.”

Alyce
smiled. “Yes!”

The
old man smiled. “Excellent. Forgive me, but… why are you here?”

“Our
galaxy is in danger,” Alyce said. “We need help.”

“Ah.”
The old man touched Alyce’s shoulder gently. “You had better come with me.”

He
touched Glitz’s arm. As soon as the three of them were connected, there was a
small flash of light, and the garden dissolved away around them. Instantly, they
had teleported into what looked like a small study. There were shelves made of
a kind of red wood, filled with objects that they didn’t recognise. Alyce
guessed that they were some kind of information storage devices. The room was
unmistakeably alien, although there were many indications of an affinity with
human culture. The chairs were reminiscent of leather wingback armchairs seen
in old vidfilms, and a holographic painting hung on the wall behind the desk.

“We
woke up wearing these clothes,” Glitz said. “And… and I thought about a straw
hat and it appeared on top of my head.”

“This
is the result of nanotechnology. It is a special occasion today, and everyone
must be dressed correctly. It is also the nanobots that are currently
translating your speech and interpreting mine, allowing us to be mutually
intelligible.”

“Right.”

Glitz
glanced around the study, unsure of what to say. He wanted to demand to know
where their ship was, and to insist that the Zierons help them in their fight
against Ozytan and the Weerms. But he was painfully conscious of being inside
an utterly alien domain, surrounded by beings infinitely greater than humans;
he was powerless here.

“Sit
down. I think we should begin,” the Zieron said. “First, I will tell you a
little about our planet, race and customs. Then, you may further explain your
purpose in coming here, and I will see if we may assist you in any way. Is this
order of events acceptable to you?”

Alyce
and Glitz glanced at one another, then nodded. “Yes,” Alyce said. They sat down
in comfortable armchairs, and the Zieron sat at the other end of his wooden
desk, facing them.

“Excellent.
Would you like a drink?”

“Don’t
suppose you have any whisky?” Glitz said hopefully.

The
Zieron smiled. “As I alluded to previously, the nanobots all around us can scan
your surface thoughts and create whatever you wish, within reason. If you want
a… what you call a ‘whisky’, simply think about your desire for the drink, and
it shall appear.”

Glitz
closed his eyes, feeling pretty ridiculous, and imagined a glass of delicious John
Copes whisky, freshly poured, with ice. As soon as he opened his eyes, he was
amazed to see that the glass of whisky had appeared. Of course, humans had
invented food and drink synthesising technology, but such technology was quite
crude, and was unable to scan a person’s thoughts and use that as a pattern. Still,
the proof of the replication would be in the tasting. As yet, Glitz had never
encountered an artificially-constituted glass of J.C. that tasted remotely like
the real thing. He took a sip. It was exactly right, down to the slightly sweet
aftertaste. But then again, it had been constructed from his memory, so it
should, by rights, taste exactly as he remembered it. Alyce conjured up a glass
of lemon water, and began to sip it slowly.

“What
are your names?”

“I’m
Alyce, and this is Glitz.”

The
Zieron placed his fingertips together. “My name is Rell. I am the Keeper of the
Seals, a job I have enjoyed for close to seven hundred years.”

“I
see.”

“Our
race once started off in a similar position to humanity. We had extremely short
lifespans, limited intellect, and our planet was plagued with civil war,
intrigue, and despotism. But, over countless centuries, our ancestors used
science to perfect our civilisation. Negative traits were rooted out from the population,
lifespans were extended, the environment was perfected, and hostile neighbours
were eliminated.”

Alyce
frowned. “For a peaceful race, that sounds an awful lot like eugenics and
fascism.”

“I
do not quarrel with the terms.”

“Then
you admit your civilisation was born from evil?”

“You
have changed the proposition. You must remember that humanity is still at a
very basic position morally. You have not yet developed an absolute scientific
law of what is right and wrong. The history of your civilisation has been one of
stumbling around in the dark—creating and abolishing religions, trying on
different governments as you would different garments, trying desperately to ascend
to a greater plane of moral understanding.”

“So
you’re saying you’re better than us?”

“Those
are not my words.”

Alyce
paused for a second, staring at the Zieron. She hadn’t meant to get into an
argument, but his words seemed odious to her. But perhaps she had been a little
too quick to rush to judgement. Was she right to question the actions of a race
clearly far more advanced than the humans? Besides, she was a member of the
Imperial Navy, which had hardly kept its hands clean over the past few
centuries.

“How
big is your empire?” Glitz asked.

“Oh,
three galaxies wide. At the last count, there were around 300 million
hospitable planets.”

“And
all containing Zierons?” Alyce asked.

“There
are some alien worlds, but the population of the galaxy is 80% Zieron. Now that
we have achieved peace with our neighbouring friends, we do not have any reason
to interfere with their day-to-day business. The alien planets within our
Empire have sworn allegiance to us, and they would be fools to renege on that
promise. However, we do keep a strict policy of separation. All Zieron worlds
are only for the settlement of our race. We have found it beneficial not to allow
aliens and Zierons to mix.”

“Why?
If the Zierons are so peaceful, what’s the problem?”

Rell
laughed. “Are you a chemist? I’m sure you will agree that water is a fairly
innocuous substance. It is natural and safe, and the basis for most life. But
what happens when you mix water with a water-reactive chemical, such as lithium?
An explosion of light and fire! Barbarians and the peaceful cannot mix!”

Alyce
shrugged, and Rell smiled. “I do not wish to dispute. Let us move on to
discussing your reason for visiting us. First, how did you get here?”

“My
ancestor kept this crystal from the Zierons’ visit to our galaxy.” She pulled
the necklace from around her neck to show Rell the pendant. The Star Point
crystal glinted at the end of the chain.

“Ah,
yes. The Star Point crystals were specifically designed to stimulate the
opening of natural wormholes. Our original expeditionary force that entered
your galaxy used these crystals to enter.” He paused. “It has been many
millennia since one of our race visited the Milky Way. We have had no
information since about the state of affairs in your galaxy. If you permit, I
would very much like to scan your minds to discover the current situation. Then
we may be able to help you with any problems.”

“Can’t
you scan our brains without permission?” Alyce said.

“I
could,” Rell admitted. “But that would hardly be polite, especially to a lady.”

Despite
herself, Alyce smiled. She nodded at the old man. “Fine. Scan away.”

Glitz
too gave his assent, and Rell raised a long-fingered hand. His fingertips
hovered in front of their faces for a few moments, reaching into the furthest
recesses of their minds. Luckily, Alyce had an excellent memory, and a better
understanding than most of the history and state of the Imperium. Although Rell
could tell that some of her historical understanding must be the result of
Imperial propaganda and misinformation, he had more than enough data to fill in
the gaps and see a relatively complete picture. It was exactly as he had expected.
The humans, despite developing many technologies, had not taken steps toward
enlightenment. They had taken the easy path followed by so many struggling
species—they had developed a puzzling and irrational civilisation; they had
refused to develop technology intended to perfect their race; they had allowed
silly quarrels about ethics to stunt their ascendance. And now the human race
faced threats on all sides. As well as all the pointless infighting, they faced
rising hostility from countless alien species. Even worse, there was the matter
of the Weerms. It occurred to Rell that the Weerms were the opposite of what
the Zierons had achieved. While they were an enlightened race of pure reason,
the Weerms were creatures of pure irrational hatred.

“Well,”
Rell said simply.

“Well?
Is that it?” Alyce said.

“I
cannot help you. Throughout the chaotic, tapestry-like story of the Universe,
there have been thousands of galactic empires. Out of those empires, a mere
handful have managed to reach a state of illumination sufficient to ensure
their survival. The vast majority have, by taking the wrong path, been
consigned to the slagheap of history. It pains me to tell you this, but I see
little hope for the Imperium.”

Alyce
bit her lip before replying, trying to hold back her temper. “How can you say
that? History isn’t written for us. Our future can always be changed.”

“Granted.
But I’m afraid that your race has taken a course that cannot be readily
altered. Your species is charging towards barbarism with an almost irresistible
momentum. The Imperium is riddled with weaknesses. Both your Grand Senate and
your armed forces are ruled over by an aristocratic elite, the members of which
mostly have no real political or military genius. Your society is corrupted.”

“Admittedly,
yes. But we can change things! What do you even know about it?”

“Forgive
me, but I have drawn all of my conclusions from data stored in your own memory.
You have convicted your own species.”