The Empress

Six

Ignis Glace had been colonized at the end of third expansionist period of Old Earth. At the time, colony ships full of idealistic souls were commonly built and sent speeding out toward promising star systems. The impetus for the dangerous emigrations was multi-faceted, but the primary driver was usually a disagreement over the nature of governmental authority. Humanity’s birth-world was racked with unrest and rebellions against the shackles of their worldwide government: the Social Synergetics.

The colonists who eventually reached Ignis Glace were a varied lot, but made up primarily of Austrian and French Monarchists. These original colonists believed the old ways were best, and when they reached the promised land they planned to revive centuries-old traditions such as kings, knights and chivalry.

For their own part, the Social Synergetics had decided as a committee to allow emigrations of any and all separatist groups. In fact, they encouraged the process. After all, why keep one’s troublemakers at home? Let them head out to the stars, and good riddance.

And so the Ignis Glace colonists were allowed to leave and after a long, arduous journey they reached their new home. Unfortunately, being Monarchists with no royalty of their own, nearly all the colonists viewed their eventual role to be one of dominance and high rank. Many claimed noble heritage, but this was difficult to verify, particularly in the case of Austrian colonists. Austria had outlawed nobility and titles in 1919, and long centuries later the bloodlines were muddled at best.

On the long voyage outward, obsession with the topic of social rank kept spirits high. Many of the colonists passed the years discussing the various niceties of being a lowly Baron versus the grandeur and responsibility of taking on a King’s mantle. Virtually none of them envisioned themselves as serfs, drudges nor even craftsmen. The fact that all these roles would have to be very common and were in fact essential to a successful pioneering society did not impinge.

Upon arrival on the alien surface of their new home, harsh realities sunk in. Someone had to do the work and, in fact, even self-proclaimed emperors were soon required to pick up power-shovels and wield them with vigor. Those that shunned work came to be despised, and if they persisted, were soon viewed as delusional. A Ruling Council was assembled to award titles, and they did so on the basis of merit. Individuals rose in rank during the initial decades due to displays of hard work rather than statements of bravado. Over time, those that aspired to become knights and barons did the best, while those who had scoffed at ranks lower than that of Earl or Marquee soon joined the sour legions of peasants, indentured servants and scullery maids.

One family known as the Droads were a group of hard-scrabble frontiersmen. The Droad lands bordered the wastelands of Sunside. Here, the sun’s red eye was blocked by a craggy mountain that stood nearby in the Sunside wastes. The fief consisted of the land encompassed by the mountain’s long shadow. The Droads had laid claim to the triangular wedge of land when they’d first discovered it. They’d lived ever since at the hottest edge of Twilight, in the isolated shaded region, surrounded by bright, hot deserts. The star blazed, but the cool gloom of the mountain’s shadow allowed the Droads to live comfortably further sunward that was the norm. Working hard to farm this permanent zone of velvety half-darkness, the Droad family had remained put for nearly a century.

Originally, Droad House had been a hamlet built of mud and stacked hardwood logs. It had been known simply as ‘The House’ for decades. In time, through providential purchases of neighboring properties and diligent farming, the structure came to be renovated in black granite and surrounded by a high wall. This close to Sunside, the defensive measures were prudent. The sun-soaked wastelands were inhabited by creatures such as drenquiks and venox-runners, both native species that frequently raided Twilight farms. Even more dangerous were gangs of landless nobles who referred to themselves as ‘errants’, but whom everyone else considered to be nothing but lazy bandits. When captured, it was these people who were most often rehabilitated via the process of turning them into hardworking mechs.

Droad House had persisted and thrived despite the hardships. In keeping with tradition, the original homesteaded lands came to be called a barony, and there were even flirtations from the Ruling Council indicating it may well be uplifted to the status of a duchy. Lucas Droad rose to prominence in the family at this happy time, but due to personal problems, he eventually volunteered to emigrate to Neu Schweitz to see what could be done to further the interests of his world.

In his wake, Droad house fell upon harder times. The land was relatively fertile and cool, but difficult to reach, making trade difficult. At the time of the arrival of grim vids from the Nexus warning of alien hostiles approaching the planet, the Droad lands had been lowered in status to that of a marginal barony again. The offspring of the latest generation showed some of the old Droad spirit, and still held the title of knights, but only by a thread.

The current matriarch of the clan was none other than Lucas Droad’s ex-wife, Baroness Olivia Droad. Not being a true Droad, but rather one who’d married into power, some said she’d driven Lucas to leave the barony and then ruined it. Whatever the case, the years had not favored her. She’d become an undeniably sour old woman with glittering eyes, a sharp tongue and expensive tastes. Physically, Olivia was now much older than Lucas Droad, as her ex-husband had spent many years in interstellar travel. She did not remember him fondly, and hoped never to lay eyes upon him again.

“Make your report, child,” the Baroness said to the image of a man which hung in the air in front of her.

“There’s been trouble along the rim again, mama,” the young Knight Leon Droad said. “I have not yet found the cause, but it is true, there are dozens of distillers that have been smashed by unknown bandits.”

The lad was good-looking and her favorite. He had sandy hair, a heavy jaw and a piercing stare that matched her own. Her heart warmed just to see him. Perhaps that bastard Lucas had been right about one thing: he’d always said that all hope for the future lay within the youth of today.

Olivia considered Leon’s words for a moment, and they gave her pause. “Has anything been taken? The copper tubing, the controlling AI boxes?”

“No, mama. Nothing.”

The aging Baroness sat thinking about bandits on a dingy throne inside Droad House. The throne was upholstered by sun-scorched reptilian leather made from Sunsider venox skins. Olivia hated the throne, and yearned to replace it. Unfortunately, she had neither the funding nor the willpower to do so. Everyone in her family would be howling to depose her yet again if she dared to do so much as put a blanket over the rough, wart-encrusted hides.

“Is there anything else, mama?” Leon asked.

“Call me Baroness, Leon.”

“Yes, mama.”

Olivia rolled her eyes, but did not press the point. He was a good boy, if not the most brilliant of souls. “I don’t like the sound of this, Leon. If they are not stealing, they might be baiting you into a trap.”

“For what purpose? What profit?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t trust bandits that aren’t stealing things of value.”

“All right mama-uh, Baroness. I’ll be careful.”

“See that you do. There’s a good boy. Call me when you find them.”

“Hello mama!” said another, higher-pitched voice. For a moment, a second face interposed itself between Leon and the vid pickup. It was Knightrix Nina, a small creature with eyes and hair as dark as Leon’s were light. Olivia flinched at the vision of her daughter. She was perky and cute, and smiled at her mother with waggling fingers.

Olivia struggled to keep the corners of her mouth from twitching downward. She nodded to her daughter in recognition, but said nothing. It was all she could do.

The connection was broken a moment later, and Olivia reflected briefly why she hated her daughter so. She amended the thought immediately: she didn’t hate the girl. She just-didn’t like to look at her. It had to be her appearance. She was the holo-image of Lucas Droad, her probable father.

In that sense, the girl was a reproductive oddity. Olivia wondered how she could have had twins, with one resembling her husband and the other her consort. Could the twins really have been sired by two different men? Biology was strange and faintly disgusting, when one really pondered it.

Olivia shook her head, trying to clear it of unwanted thoughts. She shifted her buttocks, trying vainly to locate a comfortable spot on the abominable, bumpy throne. Oh, how she hated Lucas Droad’s throne. If she dared, someday she’d burn it and build a new one that was thickly padded with fur-covered gels.

Leon and Nina were mounted. They rode one-man skimmers that glided ahead of a trotting squadron of mech perrupters. Unlike mech laborers, these mechs were designed for combat and were assembled with light cannons in place of their right grippers. The cannons fired explosive rocket-propelled shells at high velocities. The perrupters were specialized for combat duty, but except for a slightly thicker chassis, they resembled labor mechs in most other respects. In order to keep up with the mounted twins, the perrupters had to run at a churning, ground-eating pace.

Nina was the first to spot the dust cloud sunward on the wastes.

“There,” she said, pointing. “What do you make of that, Leon?”

“A train of vehicles, perhaps? Men mounted on skimmers shouldn’t produce so much dust.”

Nina bit her lower lip and frowned. “I think we should call mother. Let’s report this and call for backup.”

Leon’s mouth drew into a line. “I don’t think we need help. We can handle this for ourselves. Must we call an uncle every time there is a leak in a processor? They will never stop thinking of us as children, Nina.”

Leon charged off and the mechs followed him dutifully, two abreast. Nina considered calling mother on her own-but she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to see her mother’s lips twist in annoyance upon seeing her own daughter’s face. Watching her brother move ahead at full speed, she finally twisted the throttle and charged after him.

They chased the phantom dust cloud into the open wastes where the sun was painfully bright. Despite goggles and air-conditioned riding suits, Nina still felt the heat seep through. She’d almost caught up with her brother when the dust cloud slowed and dissipated. She saw Leon and his perrupters ahead, cruising over a ridge as if looking for something. She zoomed after them, following the rise and fall of the hot dunes.

“I don’t know what to make of it,” Leon said, looking all around them from atop a hump of hard stone. “There was something out here, making that dust cloud.”

“Backtracking from here, it seems as if they’ve just come from damaging the pumping station at the shadowline,” Nina said thoughtfully. “I don’t like it. Let’s get out of here.”

“Where did they go?” he asked. “Tell me that.”

“I don’t know, but they aren’t here now. We’d best move out of Sunside until they appear again.”

Leon shook his head. “Mother put me in charge. You can run home if you wish, sister. You have my permission to cower at home.”

Nina glared at him. “I’ll do no such thing. If you insist on combing the sands, I’ll lead the way.”

Determinedly, Nina goaded her mount and charged down the rocky outcropping toward the open sands. She saw the sand here was unsettled, as if passed over by a group of men or vehicles, but there was no one here now.

She did not make it far. As soon as she was out in the open sands, the mechs rose up in ambush. She realized with a shock that these metal laborers had hidden themselves purposefully, digging down into the sands and lying in wait. How was this possible? Who had set them to such a strange task?

She had little time for pondering the oddness of the situation, however, as she was caught up in the middle of it. A mech rose up directly in front of her and swung a dark metal arm at her head. The gripper flashed by as she ducked. Sand dribbled from it, spraying her with a shower that trickled down her back.

There were dozens of them! She dodged this way and that, avoiding the rising bodies. It was like dodging fast-growing trees in a forest. Behind her, she heard her brother’s bugle call. This was followed by a blaze of cannon-fire. The mech that had first accosted her blew apart in a spray of shrapnel. Nina ducked down, wrapping herself around the oblong shape of her mount, leaning side-to-side to guide it at full throttle. She’d always been a gifted rider and enjoyed slalom runs that sickened lesser girls.

Another mech stepped to block her path to freedom, however. This one was different from the rest. He wore-clothing? A cape fluttered from his back and a scarf was wound twice around his neck struts. His grippers flashed, but they did not strike for her, as had the others. Instead, he struck down her mount, causing the nose of the small craft to dip into the sands.

Nina flew over the forward steering grips and did a cartwheel in the reddish sands. She could feel the heat of the grit through her riding suit. She lay there, stunned, barely moving while a battle raged around her. Her body responded to her desperate urging to flee sluggishly. She wondered if she’d broken her neck.

Suddenly, as she blinked behind her goggles, the cannon fire stopped. She managed to turn her head enough to see the scene as the smoke was swept away by the ceaseless desert winds. A dozen mechs were smoking ruins of jagged metal. The perrupters had clearly been winning, however. They were armed and organized. Only three of their number had fallen. The rest of the perrupters stood still, identifiable by the green wedge on their chassis, which was the unmistakable mark of Droad House.

That was the odd thing-her mechs were frozen in place. They stood stock-still, as if switched off in mid action. Their weapons were uplifted, aiming at the advancing ranks of the enemy. But they were no longer active.

Darkness dimmed Nin’s vision. She was passing out, and she knew it. With the last of her fading wits, Nina’s eyes roved the landscape in search of her brother Leon, but she did not see him. What had befallen dear Leon?

#

Nina awoke some hours later. It was difficult to tell how long she’d laid there. Her internal suit cpu had shut down, and as the sky of Ignis Glace always looked the same, it gave no hint as to the time of day.

She struggled to her knees, and then to her feet. She looked around herself warily. She didn’t see any of the enemy mechs moving nearby, so she dared to walk among the wreckage. She needed to get out of the desert soon, even her riding suit couldn’t keep her alive out here indefinitely. Already, the hydration unit was registering three-quarters empty.

Due to long exposure on a harsh world, the technology of Twilighters had developed to a keen edge when it came to surviving extremes of temperature-both hot and cold. There were high tech systems built into her suit, but as always there was the possibility of failure with complex systems, and the people of Ignis Glace built lower tech solutions as well. Analog backups that operated when the batteries died, when the cpu overheated or something simply broke, these technological adaptations had kept many colonists alive where they otherwise would have perished. Nina relied on these backup systems now, systems based on body-motion to cause fluids to pump, evaporation to provide cooling and gauges based on weights, springs and pressure-needles.

Staggering at first, she walked among the dead. In her calculations, the destroyed mechs were counted as lives lost. To her, the mechs were people too, after a fashion. She found their slaughter disturbing. Human brain tissue, left to dry upon the heartless sands, looked the same whether it fell from a cracked skull or a ruptured metal case.

She counted fourteen dead, almost all of them renegade mechs. Of particular mystery was the disappearance of her own mech perrupters. She recalled they’d frozen in place-but where had they gone after that?

Her eyes searched the horizon, but she saw nothing. Not even the telltale plume of dust that had first alerted her to the enemy presence.

It was soon thereafter she found the fifteenth body. Her brother, his blond hair whipping and fluttering over his open blue eyes, lay dead in the sand. He was already half-covered over by sifting grit. In his right hand was a crackling power-saber. In his left was his pistol.

She wept as she buried him, but being a Droad she did not linger long after. The renegade mechs might return at any moment. She took Leon’s sword, which was a twin to her own, and strapped the second scabbard to her belt. It would not do to leave ancestral weapons in the sands for bandits to scavenge. She would have liked to take his body home, but both mounts were destroyed, and she lacked the strength to carry him so far. She was not entirely sure she would make it home herself.