Admiral Daviont and Colonel Laviond

An Excerpt from Empire's Rift

By Steve Rzasa 

     Admiral Daviont perused the reports from the III Corps. There was more spread across the hologram floating in his office than a lone eye could take in, but he preferred this—the wider view.

It was encouraging. The bulk of his forces had arrived in the vicinity of the Baedecker System two days ago. They’d lost a handful of ships to mechanical failure and jump disasters, but all the fuel tankers they brought along had mercifully been spared. Now they waited, three light-years out from Baedecker, in the depths of interstellar space. 

     His force of 70 ships would target the system itself, while nearly 100 other ships of their flying column assaulted various bases and settlements in the sector. Their mission was to keep Terran reinforcements at bay and assure Daviont of zero interference in his conquest of the Baedecker System. 

     The reports from the Corps quartermasters, however, was less stellar. Fuel supplies were dangerously low. If they did not secure the system, and make immediate use of the serjaum reserves, the III Corps would not return home. There was question of whether they’d even make it back across the Great Desert Rift. 

     Only the Ascended Masters could see to that. 

     A tone echoed from his office hatch. Daviont shrank the hologram to a ball of green light, its specifics indecipherable to the Naplian visual spectrum. “Enter.”

     A young, tall officer in the pale blue armor of the Naplian Colonial Infantry. His skin was flushed dark gray with excitement, and there was a gleam about his deep violet eye that bespoke the same. “Major Rej Ad’Andra Lanviond, sir. You wanted to see me?” 

     “At ease, Major. In this space, we are still officers of Their Majesty’s imperial forces, but more so we are clan kin. Please, be seated.” Daviont waited until the major had sat, then took his own chair. 

     “Our battalions are ready for the assault, Admiral.” 

     “I’m well aware. Your status updates have been quite detailed. The level of training to which you’ve held your men during this arduous voyage is commendable.” 

     “Thank you, sir.” Lanviond frowned. “But sir, if you’re not interested in unit readiness, why did you summon me?” 

     Daviont slid his hand across a panel on his desk. Red lights outlined the desk, and the air took on a curious sensation—as if something pressed in on him, ever so gently. Lanviond grimaced and flexed his hands.

      “A necessary precaution, Rej. I want to ask you about Sov.”

     Lanviond’s eye widened. “I … know nothing of the outlier cult. I have nothing to say about them.”

    “Come now, Rej, we are quite safe from the Druwei here. The emperors’ internal security has a dim view of Sov followers, I realize, but I’ve taken precautions to secure my position.”

     “You?”

     “Yes. I too seek the alien outsider.”

     “It’s more than that. He has to be protected.”

     Daviont frowned. “I don’t understand. I thought his presence would signify victory. Hence the rumors that began floating throughout the fleet at the start of the Audrian campaign.”

     Lanviond sighed. “I beg your pardon, sir, but this is what happens when people who are not truly called to believe jump aboard our cause. Or try to, I should say. The prophecy is clear—the alien outsider will arise among a distant nation in time of war, and his death will usher about the destruction of the Naplian Empire.”

     Daviont had, in fact, heard such prophecy, but dismissed it out of hand. To hear his young cousin boldly admit it was surprising. Lanviond was highly placed in the Sov cult—the Druwei had confirmed that to him. The director of internal security owed Daviont a great debt, and Daviont had called it in by demanding his cousin be left off the Druwei surveillance records that kept track of the myriad Naplian cults.

      “Sir, I realize this concern blinks every time we attack a foreign system, but it is not some joke—it is a serious threat. The prophecy says devastators will absorb the alien outsider, make him one of them, and he will arise a powerful leader. It is these devastators who will vanquish Naplia.”

     “Who are the devastators? Surely we should target them, rather than worry about the outsider.”

      “No one knows. Not even our greatest mystics.”

“I see.” Daviont tapped the panel again. The lights faded from around his desk. Lanviond stiffened his posture.

“Well, Major, keep me apprised. I wish to know immediately if any threats to the success of this conquest become apparent. I’m tasking you personally. I trust you understand my directive.”

Lanviond nodded. “Sir, yes, sir.”

“Very good. You have your orders: prepare a stealth courier and land your advance team in sight of the target. You are dismissed.”

Lanviond left him. Daviont mulled over the officer’s comments. He was unconvinced of any threat from this cult’s prophecy, but the Druwei men secreted throughout III Corps had increased their alert. He was not about to dismiss their concerns, especially when they were about to launch an invasion of a political entity with whom Naplia had never dealt. Such were the hazards of galactic conquest.

  

---

     He reactivated his holographic display and pulled up a new file, with everything the Denic agents had gathered on human history. On one hand, he was reassured that their ambitions were provincial. On the other, they had repeatedly proven themselves brave and vicious warriors, with a history of combat dating back millennia.

     All factors to consider before he dropped men on the surface of an alien planet.

Next…a bit about Kgruppe

Artwork by Dmitry Borodin

Ship Design by David Snodgrass

END TRANSMISSION

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