Prologue: Where the lights fades into shadow (Part II)

In the Central Cabin of his own vessel, Trindan gave a few words of quiet encouragement to his own crew. Nothing impassioned as Jeh was no doubt doing simultaneously, merely a reminder of their duty and a short remembrance for those who could not be with them. He then seated himself in the large intricately carved control throne in the centre of the cabin and gazed at the translucent semi-circle in front of him, the sourcepad. Seated here, waiting to link up with his fellows, he felt a certain sense of inevitability, as if he was now caught in a pattern being woven over which he had no control. He was just part of a greater game and his moves were controlled by a superior force. For a few moments he allowed his glazed eyes to drift from the inscrutable features of the officers in the cabin to the tiny coded markings on the sourcepad, his value in the greater scheme of order a seemingly irrelevant scrap of material; the greater good transcending the scratches he had made on the records of existence; even the memory of his being, expendable before the triumph of order. He rarely felt cowed, he would be unworthy of his rank if he did, but now was such a moment. With a jerk he was pulled out of his reverie as his deputy, a young competent Grand Master, gently touched his shoulder. “Ignition in twenty seconds, Valued Lord.”

Trindan slipped back into the present and stretched out his hands. With an effort he felt out to his comrades in their own Command vessels and linked. Together they followed the count for what seemed an eternity. Nineteen. The Empire is watching us. Eighteen. This is our moment. Seventeen. We’re going to die. Sixteen. We’re going to die. Fifteen. We’ll live for ever. Fourteen. Our memories will never die. Thirteen. We will be Trusted. Twelve. Our moment. Eleven. Remember the strategy. Ten. There is no law but the Emperor. Nine. We do this for the Codex. Eight. We are the greatest. Seven. We will die. Six. We’re going to die. Five. Unworthy thought. Four. We were born for this. Three. The victory will be ours. Two. We will eliminate all heresy forever. One. This is it. Zero.

He felt them all source. He sourced. Sheets of power hit the sourcepad. The vast steel door shot open and four Lords of the Empire powered forty eight Attack Arrows out into the heavens.

Trindan opened his eyes. His junior officers turned and clasped each other mumbling meaningless words of good luck and encouragement to each other. Trindan caught the unreadable stare of his deputy. The man kept his head and acted rationally. A man who had already broken more heretics and girl’s hearts than many a hero of Ogrim romance. Men like that were worth Plutonium and Trindan was not sorry to have him on board. The two men faced the target in front of them. Zakurtha, home to the resistance in this star cluster, peoples who resisted the forces of order, who denied the omnipotence of the Celestial Son of Heaven. Whose powers were as yet unknown. Soon, however, they would know what they faced. Forty eight vessels of the crack Imperial flotilla against the centre of an entire cultural civilisation. Jeh’s voice appeared on the Communication. “We detect no defences at this range. Our sensors seem to suggest power on the planet itself. No responsive systems in action.”

He peered forward at the screens above the sourcepad, following the patterns as the third squadron broke off into small groups speeding round the orbit of the planet. Seconds later a communication came through from that squadron. “We’ve detected a large centre of power on the smaller landmass. If our information is accurate, this should be S’mion, their main centre of operations. My science officer estimates a population of a mere ninety million.”

Moments later reports were circulating through all four command ships as fresh news came in from the Scout vessels. “Power centre observed above equator. We estimate it’s population to be twenty million, if that.” “Thermonuclear device postulated on northern landmass.” “Nothing here that they didn’t have at Nusacklieos!” “Total planetary population by all projections unlikely to exceed ten billion. There’s nothing here.” “If there are any hostile devices here, then they are definitely inactive.” Trindan noticed the increased confidence gathering momentum, his own junior officers comparing every new piece of data and nodding with taut smiles to each other, anticipating a glorious homecoming.

Suddenly a communication from Vercak of the Fourth squadron came through. “I think you should take a look at this. A brace of small vessels rising from the surface.”

Trindan looked to his screen and saw a ring of vessels leaving the population centres they had recorded and were heading upwards and outwards to encircle the planet. This seemed to be a response. The inexplicable thing was that no artillery had been detonated from the surface. Trindan felt something was wrong. It seemed an odd way to defend against crack Imperial troops, fitting into no scheme of battle he had ever come into contact with. Unless these vessels had some sort of artillery, but even that did not seem to fit. It made no sense and it eroded his surety at a stroke.

Then things began to make even less sense. The enemy vessels stopped, narrowly inside the planet’s atmosphere, hovering as if waiting, challenging. Motionless, insect-like silver capsules above a ball of purple and orange. Trindan communicated to the others. “Something seems odd here. This is unusual and I don’t like it a bit. I don’t like to say it, but this looks like a trap. No other strategy makes sense. Unless these vessels have capacities we don’t know about. But if so, why aren’t they firing? They can’t think to warn us off. If they know we’re here, then they must know who we are. They look like they know something we don’t. Something is wrong.”

The leader of the Third responded. “We’ll see. I’m above what we agreed must be S’mion. Let’s see if we can’t get this battle going.” Trindan was aware of level four artillery being unleashed at S’mion and then gaped in horror as out of his window he saw what seemed to be a ripple convulse the atmosphere of the planet before sheets of flame spread out from the far side. He was no longer aware of the Third squadron and a quick glance at his screen showed it had been largely obliterated. What had happened, he could not grasp at. What he had just seen was not possible – Not that kind of force, not from a race with no intrinsic kinetic potential. He glanced apprehensively at his own officers, gazing ashen faced at the screens, their arms hanging limp by their sides. If they ever did sail back to Imperion in victory, there would be faces they all knew absent from the honours. Trindan reached out for the others. Jeh responded. “Third’s gone. Only two vessels survived that – little display of pyrotechnics.”

“What in the name of the Emperor did they do there?”

Vercak intervened. “They’ve got a shield of some sort. Stronger than any I’ve ever come across, even in the Imperial Defences. I don’t see how it’s possible. Turning back that level of artillery I mean, it’s unheard of.”

Jeh cut across. “It’s obviously not impossible. We just saw it. Their fire was forced back on to them. Mirrored if you like. That shield is almost impregnable. I wonder -”

“Do you think there’s any way we can cut through it?”

“Well, we can work at it. Get your science officers on to it. And you Vercak. I’ve just started mine on it. They’re the best I know for theoretical physics. In the meantime it’s down to trial and error – and the Emperor’s blessing upon us all!”

Trindan turned and gestured to one of the junior officers. “Get on to analysing that shield. Carefully. No probing. We don’t know how reactive it is. In the meantime I’m going to pull our squadron back to a safe distance and try stronger artillery!”

He did not get a chance. In that moment the enemy vessels started firing from behind the enemy shield. Trindan was aware of two of his vessels going down. He quickly flashed to his others to keep moving. He was aware of level two artillery being detonated against the shield – and reverberating even more effectively than it had with its predecessor. Trindan called to Jeh. “How many vessels left?”

“In mine? Well I’ve got what’s left of Third and Fourth. That’s twenty with my own. And you’ve got ten. Eighteen down then.”

“We can’t penetrate. It’s a waste of time pondering why. And if we just sit here they’ll mow us down like skittles. We have to retreat. I know it goes against the grain, I know what we vowed before we left but face it, we can’t touch them. This is turning into a massacre and not in a positive sense.”

“Wait. Is that Lord Trindan Kholiaos I hear? One who has crawled before the feet of the Arch Satrap? When have we ever accepted defeat?”

“When it’s staring us in the face, reaching out with taloned hand to disembowel our souls. Come on, let’s go. We can’t do anything else today. We need time to re-plan on the basis of fresh information. Then we can come back and pulverise them.”

“I was taught that we win or die. That’s what we’re going to do. Here and now. I’m not heading home, my head hung in shame and nor is any man who rides where I ride.”

“For the Emperor’s sake, Jeh! I think conserving Imperial forces is an honourable option in the circumstances!”

There was a silence in the cabin. The junior officers fidgeted with the weapons at their belt and straightened their cloaks. Trindan glanced at his deputy, his cool features mildly apprehensive, though whether it was the prospect of losing his life or the chance of victory that perturbed him, he could not even begin to guess. Most of these men would be torn between what he had said and the words they had heard Jeh utter with his customary ardour. If they thought their own destruction a worthy cause, they would not hesitate, he knew. He watched helplessly as two more of his vessels were picked off by the silver capsules. Then Jeh came through again. “What if victory were possible. Now.”

“What? You mean – But how? Yes, I mean, go on.”

“My team reckon they know how it’s done. How this shield is created. They say it’s quite simple really. An amateur could set it up. It’s a simple electro-magnetic force field controlled by beams from their defence centres.”

Trindan paused to take it in. “No – it couldn’t. What, and turn back that level of artillery? Well, I’m no scientist. Go on.”

“It’s run parallel to their atmosphere, these boys say, gaining the bulk of its strength from it and sealing it off. They say it’s simple, easily done. Something you learn in basic astrophysics.”

Trindan paused a second reflecting on his limited knowledge of that subject. He glanced at his science officers who were nodding sagely at the new information. He frowned and spoke again to Jeh. “Why have we never used such an idea then?”

“Simple. We did in the distant past. But it’s not actually such a good idea. Such a field is easily dispelled once the attacker has seen it for what it is. None would usually dream that such a powerful field could be created by something as simple as an electro-magnetic force field. That’s its beauty. But when you do see, if you’re as advanced or, as we are, more advanced than the defenders, why, a simple electric current beam, such as even a basic attack vessel can produce, fired directly at it would dispel it.”

Trindan paused. “Stop me if I’m off track here, my astrophysics being abysmal, but if I get you right, the strength of the shield is gained because it operates in conjunction with the planet’s atmosphere. It has in effect become a part of that atmosphere.”

“That’s it. You’re picking it up.”

“So presumably if you dispel it, you also dispel the planet’s atmosphere at the same time. Eradicate it.”

“And blast atomically all the sources of the beam. The current would fire back along the sources causing the entire regions around those centres to be obliterated in an instant. Easy work, eh? That’s pretty much why we don’t use this idea ourselves.”

“So, Jeh, what you mean is that those who did not die in the moment their military centres were pulversied would die because their world no longer had an atmosphere?”

“Correct. The easiest victory we ever won, and you were about to retreat. Watch, it will be spectacular. Such a little beam, such a great triumph.”

“Jeh. You are going to fry ten billion people to death!”

A snort of genuine amusement came back across the communication. “We were told to eliminate all resistance. What are you complaining about? They’re heretics! We took oaths once, to eliminate all heresy. You have spent your life doing it. Anyway, we’re now down to twelve vessels. Would you like the honour of firing the winning shot?”

Wearily Trindan turned to face the implacable scrutiny of his men. He knew the answer they wanted to hear. But he could not give it. “No Jeh. This is different. These people have not even been offered the chance to surrender. I can’t fry those who have not been given the chance to repent.”

“Then I will. I’m firing the beam.”

Trindan was aware of the sourcing. Seconds later he saw a circle of red fizzle around Zakurtha. For a few seconds it glowed and then was gone. Grey clouds began to form over it, steaming like an unholy furnace, wisps of black mist forming over where its population centres had stood. The colours of the disc seemed to turn to brown and red from its original hues of orange and purple. He turned to view his men, staring in wonder and adulation at the awesome vision of destruction they beheld. His deputy had sunk to his knees. More than one officer was incanting the Creed. The he heard Jeh.

“YES YES YES!!! Now, boys, take out those heretical vessels surrounding that wreck of a world! They ARE all that’s left, we HAVE won! Today we have shown ourselves worthy of our name, there is no law but the Emperor! Order has been achieved through power! We shall crawl before the feel of the Celestial Son of Heaven! We are the fist of justice!” Volleys of artillery shot through the sky at the helpless enemy craft, shifting helplessly in the shards of what had been their planet’s atmosphere. Below, billions died as the air they had breathed dissipated and the full thrust of their star’s radiation hit them unprotected. Trindan heard the muffled cries of joy from his jubilant junior officers, a grand homecoming guaranteed. He could not understand, why what they had done bothered him. He should have been as ecstatic as all the others. And this was the root of the unease which now spread right through him. That none of all the values that he had built his life on seemed to make sense today. He had differed with Jeh not on some minor technicality, but on a major point which almost approached the doctrinal. And the worst of it was that he knew that his long time friend was right in what he had done and yet he still hated it. That was what was wrong.

Somehow, a hole had appeared in his conditioning.

Prologue: Where the lights fades into shadow

Across the cold, dark and limitless sky were scattered tiny beacons of icy motionless light, shimmering only with the blurred vision of light imperfectly caught as the position from which observed moved quicker than the image took to travel towards it. It had a jarred effect, especially to the edge of the window, but it still remained a glorious vision of the eternal oceans of emptiness which separated the tiny islands of life which inhabited it. Only at this juncture, with the relative speed of the carrier brought down could such a panoply of titanic beauty be observed in all its mind blowing awe. A philosophical observer might have reflected on the millions and billions of void which divided the far flung worlds of this galaxy, the domain of the enlightened, and whatever dark barbarism the theologians postulated lay beyond, but this observer was not a philosopher. He had no time to be. He knew the numbers of many of the stars he saw in the observation window. Many he had been on. They did not concern him now. What did was the larger of the objects he saw in the centre of the window, glowing with ever increasing brightness as they drew near it. The home of a people who had brought their own fate upon them. The destination of their mission.
He was a well built man with a stern bearing, his face hardened to accept all realities and face them with determination. His golden hair flowed to the shoulders of a circular black cape which reached to his waist. His suit, well cut but in utilitarian fashion of a coarse but still not inexpensive material was in a matching colour, as were his ankle boots. The only other colour visible on his person consisted of the golden weapon belt around his waist, more there for the sake of appearance and tradition than its actual value in a combat situation, to which various apparatus were attached, and the insignia on his chest, five concentric circles. He did not move, gazing into the vastness at the one solitary star in the centre staring with impassive features and an iron stance. A voice from behind him broke his reverie “Are you that eager to see it, Trindan?” The observer turned and looked down from the balcony where he stood to the foot of the steps where the speaker stood, dressed identically, aside from the black, gold plumed, vizored helmet he carried under his arm. He was a trifle shorter with darker hair and slighter of frame, yet his jaw was more firmly set and one hand rested on the weapons on his belt, his mouth constricting into what could be seen as an expression of wry amusement, his blue eyes wildly dilated, betraying the use of the considerable amounts of Jeral, often referred to in combat circles as the battle powder.
The man addressed as Trindan moved down the steps towards him.“I would rather not see it at all. Not now. But it is what we must do. And thus I watch it.” His companion glanced almost absently at the stone faced features of the shaven headed slave, grey robed in the corner of the deck and smiled wryly. “I hope now that you of all our warriors, the one who has been honoured highest, are not losing your nerve. This after all could be our finest hour. We all desire the opportunity to crawl before the feet of the celestial son of heaven as well.”
Trindan glanced once more to the vision outside. The honour he had recently received had been due as much to luck as judgement, he was aware. The man with whom he now spoke, his greatest comrade, was a least as worthy of such treatment and both men knew it. The other man continued. “I still believe no less than I did at that conference that this could be the greatest triumph we, the greatest flotilla in the Empire could achieve. We may be allowed to assume the position of Trusted after this. Look at it like that. Then nothing matters except achieving that victory.”
Trindan viewed his companion slowly before replying “The difference between impassioned talk in the grandeur of a Chamber of Lords of the Empire and the grim reality of combat is very great, as both of us have cause to know. We have no real idea at all of what we face here, none. We may be the greatest flotilla in all the Empire, but we are still just forty eight vessels. Not a lot to take out an entire culture. There are millions, maybe billions there – what do they have? Do we have any concept? I know the strength of our artillery, but it is not invulnerable and aside from that all we have is oaths and promises. We just don’t know what the odds against us are, and ten to one against would be naively optimistic.”
The eyes of his companion twinkled as he turned and clicked his fingers at the slave in the corner, who disappeared into an alcove cut into the silver walls of the deck. “And how many times have we had such odds against us? And come out better for it? It is only when you grapple with death, you really know you are alive. You know that, you share that with me. It’s all the more reason to make sure we win.”
The slave reappeared carrying a silver pipe. He presented it to Trindan. The other man gestured for him to take the pipe. “Have some Jeral. It’ll put you in the mood more.”
Trindan hesitated before nodding slowly. He took hold of the pipe and raised it to his lips. The other man lifted his index finger and touched the bowl, in so doing allowing a burst of flame to dart forth from his finger tips to ignite the white crystals contained within. He gave a short laugh. “Let the march go on.”



Trindan and his companion moved slowly down the arched silver corridor in a state of calm. Life, space and the momentum of the universe seemed to be moving along with them, in harmony to their quick, authoritative steps, seemingly taken with casual ease. At the end of the corridor was a set of tall, golden doors which marked the boundary between the main area of the carrier and the docking zone. The flurry of activity which had marked the last hour was gradually beginning to subside, the thud of boots along the corridor fading into the slow, dull beat of the auxiliary navigation systems. Standing beside these doors, clad in the same uniform as Trindan and his friend were two other officers, their equals, both men they had shared moments of glory and of pain with. They looked up at the arrival of their comrades, eagerly fingering the weapons at their belts, half dazed and half exhilarated by what they faced. One advanced from the golden door, arm raised in salute.
“Brothers. Friends, Trindan, Jeh, Vercak, I find it hard to use great eloquence here – I feel this is our hour. I pray that our celestial father has seen fit to defeat the forces of darkness and disorder in a manner befitting our name.”
Trindan’s friend saluted in return. “I understand. Words are sometimes not enough. I suppose all that we need to say is; We are the vanguard of order. The truth is with us. Let no one doubt it. The words we spoke when we planned this are no less true now. We know what to do. What we do now is not so very different to what we have done time and time again before. This is our real test. Here and now we will know, and the galaxy will know if we really deserve the reputation we have created for this flotilla. This is a real chapter in the history of the Codex and we are players in it. Let our names appear in the annals – and more!”
Trindan turned slowly to face his companion. He knew him for one of the most loyal and finest conditioned of all the Servants, Jeh D’lakarsha, a Lord whose orthodoxy could never be challenged, yet suddenly he seemed to see an added edge to his devotion, the light in his eyes fuelled by more than just service to the light and the triumph of the Codex. For a fraction of a thought his mind wavered, a question was raised, a doubt in his mind about the structures which governed his whole being. Then it was gone. They had passed through the doors, and into the transporter box beyond which carried them to the docking area. His companions seated themselves on the hide couches within and lit a final pipe of Jeral, though the Emperor knew, they hardly seemed in need of it. The call of battle was in them all. Trindan accepted a couple of drags then passed back the pipe, his mind dangerously full of thought on a day when it should have been devoid of all but the desire to conquer. Seconds later, the doors opened and they marched outward into the docks. They were standing on a balcony, above a vast open space lined with forty eight Attack Arrows, all pointing outward to the enormous ten foot thick steel door which separated the deck from the universe beyond. Lining the space in front of these sleek black vessels were the crews of each of the four squadrons. As the four senior officers appeared on the platform a roaring, exhalant cheer burst from the homogenous lips of the men. They were, Trindan reflected, genuinely jubilant at the prospect they faced. They would have been prepared to lie, cheat and kill their families for the chance to serve on this mission, and some no doubt had. Even if they did end up in a thousand pieces floating miles apart across a heatless sky, they would have flown for the Emperor in a holy campaign against the dark, with Lords who had become legends in their own lifetime. The cheering went on for several minutes as a group of Grand Masters approached the Lords on the balcony. They kneeled when they reached the appropriate distance. “Greetings, Valued Lords. Your vessels are ready for departure. All capability primed.” One officer kneeled in front of Trindan. “First Squadron ready for departure O Lord Trindan Kholiaos.”
Similar rituals were observed with his companions. All four officers thanked the delegates and the party moved down the steps to the floor of the deck to join the crews. When they reached the ground Trindan turned to the assembled crowd. “Well, this is it. The truth be with us. The light must win.”
Jeh nodded. “And us with it.” He saluted “There is no law but the Emperor.”
A ring of salutes greeted him in reply. The assembled officers then bowed to each other and departed to their own crews.