Necessary Lies

By Ryan Viergutz

Prince Vespasian Shiraan, leader of the Shadow Daggers Squadron, stands at the center of a conspiracy in the Aura Empire. An explosion impacts a museum in the Core worlds. Edmund Volta, a known revolutionary, blames the mass killing of a hundred people on the Empress's rise. Caspian Acratani plans to conquer the Core, though no one knows how. Could he be involved with the attack and with Volta? What does he plan to do?

Vespasian's lieutenant Rochelle Sarakshi receives messages from a man called the Purple Prophet, who reminds her of a cultist she met six months ago. He summoned a beetlelike god that did immense damage to an entire sector of space. Why does he express so much interest in her? When she learns why he is persistent, his revelations make her question her life, her family and her future.

Vespasian and Rochelle protect the Aura Empire with diplomacy, subterfuge and giant robots. If they fail, Caspian will conquer the Core and Father Sasha will summon more demon gods from wormholes. The stakes are raised higher in Necessary Lies, Book 2 of Secrets of the Empire.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ryan Viergutz
• Release date: Jul 24, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476293295

Ryan Viergutz

I'm a freelancer, writer, roleplayer and gamer. I don't want to live in the same place any longer than a year for a very long time and I am always yearning for adventure. The first two overlap often enough that they're almost the same thing, though they aren't by anyone's measure. Regardless of the state I'm in, I am always roleplaying and I allow myself to indulge in gaming, usually of a video game variety, sometimes. At any given time I will have a scifi or fantasy book in my hands or in my travel bag.

Book preview

Chapter 1

A crosshatched grid latched onto the sides of a cone-nosed starship when it had arrived halfway out of the gate. It pierced the blue barrier around the starship, splashed around its metal surface like a stone on a pond and copied the most important information to the technicians of the gate. The metal gate, like a bicycle wheel with spokes, looked small against the hulk of the ship.

Vespasian Shiraan shoved his boots into the tunnels of his mecha's legs and bent them forward. The Illustrious, a fifty three foot tall robot with an angelic theme to its appearance, sensed the movement across the transistors and wires beneath the foam. It often required years of practice to work in the confined space of a mecha robot, but Vespasian felt an intuitive comfort in tight darkness.

Vespasian angled in toward the starship. If the pilots hadn't seen him before, they could certainly see him now. He shrugged the thought off. As the Prince of the Aura Empire, he could screw with their minds all he wanted and get away with it. They might even find the sight of his distinctive mecha creepy. He didn't mean them any harm, but it would work potential wonders as leverage against them.

The ship didn't look familiar, but the estimation of its length on the heads-up display was about seven hundred meters long. It could hold three or four specialized mecha and half a dozen mass production mecha. Only half of it had been out of the gate at that point, but cannons seemed to dominate its sides more than mecha hangars. That didn't mean it couldn't hold them, but they would be a lot more tight.

The display could tell him more than that. Vespasian didn't look into them. He wanted to offer the technicians an opportunity to show their skills to him. His patrol of the gate wasn't only to protect it. As a secret agent of the Empress, and her only son, his responsibility extended to a review of the workers.

So, Vespasian said across the local broadband, what is this ship?

Prince Shiraan! said a deep voice. I didn't see you there!

Oh? Vespasian said. Were you playing games on the job? Or were you simply not watching for me? Surely you heard I would be here.

The head of a technician spiralled into existence on one corner of the display. He had tamed black hair, which looked to Vespasian like he used way too much gel on it, and the collar of a white lab coat. His eyes showed his state of mind, red rimmed with dark purple shadows. He hadn't been sleeping well for a while. As a mental exercise, Vespasian thought up dozens of reasons in his mind. None of them were probably right, but that had never stopped him.

I'm trying to get to the structure of this ship, the technician said. I've seen it, and we have most of the information on it, but they've changed it from the generic. Its shielding is different. I think it's stronger, though I'm not actually sure.

Vespasian smiled. So, the technician just had his mind busy. He could understand that. He was often said to act that way. Tell me what you do know.

Oh, I certainly would, the technician said. You might want to know the cargo that arrived with it, though. The technician gulped and glanced at a screen to his right. It's far from ordinary.

Vespasian scanned the ship. What would that be?

It's a pure mecha, the technician said. We think it's an Illustrious. It's up and running and has a pilot in it.

What? Vespasian said.

We think so.

Vespasian nudged the keys within the tunnels of his mecha's arms. The coolant kept them from warming up. The display flipped across a series of readings, until he found the unknown mecha glowing light blue at the rear of the ship. From this distance, he could only see its stationary stance and an outline of its structure. Compared to the engines at the rear and the gun turrets, it seemed to be of an average height.

It hasn't arrived from the gate yet, Vespasian said.

The technician jumped and looked up from his work. We almost have the copy complete, sir. If you'll wait another minute, we can present our findings. It should be finished, anyway... He turned around to someone behind his back and said a stammering comment. The combination of tired and rattled could be hazardous for any reason, which could have been exemplified had this encounter been a warship.

Vespasian grasped the opportunity to retreat from the conversation and fly above the starship. The Illustrious, his Illustrious, stayed a good fifteen meters above it and avoided the potential danger of the ship's radio antennae and local electronic grid. The hexagonal shielding shone a bright blue pattern beneath him, but he could pierced it with his military grade mecha with no trouble.

The civilian armament and structure of the starship made its choice of protector more curious than it already was. An Illustrious indeed stood on top of it, between the cylindrical engines and the trapezoidal bridge. Vespasian noted that it had two swords sheathed at its sides, unlike his model. It had unfurled its wings to their furthest length of forty five meters, likely to slow the ship during its entrance at the gate.

Vespasian returned to the front of the ship, where he could keep away from its estimated weapons range and opened the broadcast channel. This is Captain Nerves of the Aura Empire. Please identify yourself and your escort, Illustrious.

The pilot of the Illustrious answered him. His voice sounded rough and had a growling quality, like he was a rabid wolf and had got up on the wrong side of bed that morning. This civilian ship is the Rising Tide, from Basacryne. It brings wheat and steel supplies for the people of Onachis. They've had shortages in their production.

Vespasian nodded. They do need them, yes. But you've missed a point. Who are you, Illustrious pilot?

There are only three of us who pilot this model in the Aura Empire, Prince Shiraan, the pilot said. I am not sure what has become of the third in the past five years; perhaps he was withdrawn from the political arena, or perhaps he met his doom. I am Edmund Volta. I suspect you have heard of me.

Vespasian curled his hands into fists and released them slowly. Of course I have. Volta, the anarchist who stirs up controversy to bring about reforms in the government of any planet he finds to be not to his liking. This Empire has seen enough change, between the Civil War and the insurgencies. We don't need more. Why are you here?

I am on a diplomatic mission.

That's how they all start, Vespasian said. After about half a year, you strew up all the rebellions that have been waiting. Volta started to reply, but Vespasian continued. You shouldn't be in the Core, and you know it. What do you really have in mind?

I simply have a proposal, Volta said. I want to talk with the Empress.

I don't she would want to talk with you. I think she would want you to leave.

Volta snarled and opened a visual link. He had a dark red mohawk, dark red spectacles, a goatee and a tight black leather jacket. Is this how the Empire greets its visitors? With contempt and assumptions? I have no dark intention. I simply have a suggestion for her, which might come to help her in the long run.

In 1042 you started a revolution with one word. In 1043 you began the descent of Rechatu into anarchy and disarray. I can't let you in the Core. You'll do the same.

I haven't always been on the Edge, Volta said. I've been here before.

When was that?

997.

That was before you started the revolutions, then.

I didn't do them my -

You didn't do them all, no, not literally. But you began them.

Volta tilted his spectacles down and showed Vespasian his hazel eyes. What is it with you, prince? Are you spoiled by your position? I've worked for what I am. And, even with my influence, that isn't very much.

Sounds like excuses to me.

Volta shook his head and set his spectacles into position again. Okay, then, if you want a fight, I'm up for it. Volta's Illustrious curled its wings behind its back and leapt up above the roof of the Rising Tide.

Vespasian retreated from the starship and the gate and headed into space. Debris from earlier battles, gates and planetary material roamed around the region. Most of it was small, other than the stray armor panel or cannon casing. Environmentalists occasionally picked up and recycled some of the material. In Vespasian's mind it was human nature to ignore some things and worry about the consequences afterward.

This isn't a duel to the death or anything, you understand, Volta said.

Of course not, Vespasian said. It's all about the disabling.

Volta grinned, but the way that his lips curved up a tiny trace looked more like determination than hunger for the fight. He was focused on his task, likely thinking of it as one job among many, just as Vespasian was.

Vespasian charged forward and slashed his sword at his opponent's chest. The movement caught Volta off guard, but his reflexes matched those of his mecha model and he sidestepped out of the way. Vespasian drew his sword in close and brought himself back into position, facing Volta.

Volta didn't give Vespasian a second to breathe, and he hadn't been expecting it. The opposing Illustrious came in hard and heavy, with a flurry of strikes fast enough that Vespasian guessed that Volta had set all of its strength into its weaponry. Even Vespasian couldn't stand against that for very long. Volta's sword pierced Vespasian's wrist and his pistol flew out of his grasp into space.

Vespasian, for the moment outclassed, veered toward a piece of a cannon mount and hid behind it. Volta didn't follow him at first. Vespasian used the opportunity to switch his energy reserves into another configuration. Volta came from beneath Vespasian's feet, silver wings opened. They carved holes in Vespasian's feet and he was forced from his hiding space.

Across the sensory link, the wing holes felt like gashes in the soles of his boots. If they had been on the ground, he would be limping, reducing the advantage of the maneuverable Illustrious to almost nothing. Volta was aware of that, with an equal, or stronger, strength in the model. Perhaps that was his goal.

Volta evened the mecha out and thrusted with his sword. Vespasian parried it easily and returned a strike of his own. Volta returned the gesture and frowned.

Is something not right? Vespasian said.

No, Volta said, but he hesitated.

Vespasian glanced at the display and saw a blue form arriving toward him. He changed channels quickly and asked, Who is it?

Rochelle Sarakshi, lieutenant of Vespasian's Shadow Daggers arrived onto the top left corner of the display and gave him a brisk nod. She had dark red hair straight down her back, dark grey eyes which almost looked black and a hooked nose. Her features looked harsh and intimidating in general, but Vespasian always noticed her nose.

Lieutenant Psychotic reporting, Rochelle said. I saw trouble out here, shots being exchanged, and thought I would give it a once over.

I have it under control, Vespasian said. It's one Edmund Volta.

Rochelle lifted an eyebrow. Who?

The leader of the Truth Bringers?

Rochelle shook her head. Who is that?

Vespasian sighed. Come here. You'll see who he is.

Volta concluded the visual link and fled from Vespasian's Illustrious. Because Volta wasn't the type to show fear in a winning battle, Vespasian watched the display.

The Rising Tide had began to move from the gate. The technicians had allowed it through. Maybe they had thought that the civilians wouldn't carry any dangerous materials, and the civilians had known that and found a way around the issue. Vespasian certainly hadn't had the upper hand in the battle, and they would surely have noticed that. He liked to think so, anyway.

Then Vespasian glimpsed Volta's intentions. Two green mecha with a grey border had launched from its hangar. The green said that they were potential neutrals, likely with allegiances to Volta, but the grey border said that that his assumption was unconfirmed.

Please identify yourselves, Vespasian said.

Both of them are Truth Bringers, Volta said. They're on my side.

The grey border fell.

Does that mean we're going to go through this all over again?

I hope not, Volta said.

Rochelle growled. Nerves, just let them through.

He's a revolutionary, Psychotic.

They're only three people.

Vespasian smiled. So were we, you, me, and Sunburn.

Rochelle stared at Vespasian as though he had said the galaxy had birthed him from its womb. She inhaled a deep breath. True. Very true. But it's simple manners.

You're one to talk about them.

I'm learning, Rochelle said. Okay? Trust me. They just can't see the Empress.

You can come in, but you can't meet with the Empress, Vespasian said.

Yet, Volta said.

We have to make sure with her first, Rochelle said. We can't speak for Empress Shiraan.

Volta laughed quietly. Okay. That works for me.

We'll follow you in, Vespasian said.

I don't have a problem with that.

Vespasian eyed Rochelle. This isn't a good idea. This could spell the doom of all of us.

Maybe it isn't, Rochelle said, but what can you do?

Vespasian trailed Volta and his two companions toward the surface of Thassat. We could still shoot them down.

Rochelle sighed.

All right, Vespasian said. I'll contact my mother. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Chapter 2

Volta, Rochelle and the other two unnamed pilots trailed Vespasian to the atmosphere of Thassat. Its appearance, that of one fourth blue water and the other three fourths of varying continents, sent a shudder up his spine. It looked too bright and comfortable, untouched by the myriad wars that had twisted the topography of the Empire's worlds. Space was more pleasant than that bright surface.

Vespasian slowed the Illustrious's descent toward the ground and said, before anyone could ask him about it, There's no problem. I'm just reserving some of my fuel. He switched to the private channel afterward and said, Psychotic. How are we going to go about this?

Rochelle looked up and shrugged. I haven't really been thinking about it. I suppose you have a suggestion?

I'll head into the palace, get in contact with my mother and tell her about Volta, Vespasian said quickly. I know she's on the planet, but she could be about anywhere for all I know. I'll see what she thinks and if she's even in close enough proximity. When I'm done with that, I'll contact you and tell you what I've found out.

I don't see why you can't trust him.

If he isn't a revolutionary, he attracts them to him. That wouldn't be good, not with the public opinion Caspian roused up half a year ago. Vespasian rubbed his fingers. How about you poke his brain while I'm busy?

Me? Rochelle said. Me, who gets people's hackles up just by looking at them?

Vespasian grinned. You can't do any worse than me.

Rochelle bounced her head back and forth, weighing the two choices, and nodded.

Vespasian laughed. That came easily. All right, I'll see you in an hour.

Be good to your mother, Rochelle said.

Vespasian nodded briskly. And you should be careful.

The view of Thassat from orbit frightened Vespasian with the bright coloration, but the reentry into the atmosphere thrilled him like a feather dropped right down his naked back. It set him in no real danger, because the insulation of the Illustrious topped that of some of the strongest starships, and for most of his life he had thought it ultimately unnecessary.

Since the mission half a year ago, the insulation offered him a feeling of security and reassurance. Alanis Lithmeri, one of Caspian Acratani's agents, had grabbed his left arm and gave it a second degree burn which had been irritated off and on for almost a month. Because of that, the heat of reentry, which felt like the tips of matches against his skin, made him feel more cautious.

Vespasian held his teeth together for the next stage and watched his elevation descend with the Illustrious. The heat of reentry fell from his skin as quickly as it had arrived. It became replaced by the force of the street against the Illustrious's soles. Vespasian's body folded in on itself, but his teeth didn't click together.

The display suggested that the four lane street had got through the crunch mostly okay. Vehicles would still be able to drive across it, though its bulk had already created a small traffic jam. Vespasian lifted his arms forward, leapt above the line of cars and dangled in midair. He looked at the display and maneuvered to Thassat's palace.

Two dozen people walked across the courtyard of the Thassat palace and most of them eyed the Illustrious. Vespasian showed up rarely enough that his mecha got attention from them. He set it in out of the way region, beyond the pool and underneath the light blue columns. Vespasian opened the cockpit and waved to his personal mechanic.

Riassch, old, stubborn and crude, stumbled toward the Illustrious. His straggly beard and wrinkled skin distracted bystanders from his deft mind. Along with his mother, Vespasian trusted Riassch to pilot the Illustrious. Riassch, a loyalist to the Shiraans for seven decades, showed it the appropriate respect. Because of his loyalty, his respect, and his personality, Vespasian allowed him the pilot chair.

Is there an invasion? Riassch asked.

Vespasian grinned and hopped down to the sound but scratched stone courtyard. The Illustrious had created cracks around its feet which extended five feet in every direction. Riassch didn't notice it, as his attention was more focused elsewhere. Vespasian shook his head, as glad as he was to hear Riassch's concern.

There is no invasion, Vespasian said. Not yet, anyway.

Riassch rubbed a hand, from left to right, across his beard. Hmm?

Vespasian trusted Riassch with his mecha, but the old man had an inclination toward telling rumors to others. The Core has a new visitor. You'll hear about him soon enough.

The old man eyed Vespasian skeptically as he stepped into the cockpit.

Where are you setting it down? Vespasian said.

The north wing of the hangar, Riassch said. The main hangar is being taken over by an inspector today. He's assuring that it's on the level with the safety regulations. Riassch squarely met Vespasian's gaze. I think he's setting bugs around it to keep an eye on us for the Empress.

Watch what you say! Vespasian said.

It's only a guess, Riassch said. You know you think the same way as me. With that said, he dropped the cockpit onto his face and became obscured by the translucent glass shielding.

Vespasian grinned. It's a damn good guess, he said softly He stepped back, watched the Illustrious lift off to its location a fourth of a mile away and juggled the conflict in his mind. It didn't feel uncomfortable to trust it with a reliable man like Riassch. He had proven himself again and again. It did feel uncomfortable, almost offensive or disrespectful, to see it flying away with another man in the cockpit.

The Illustrious escaped his viewing range above one of the bedroom buildings, and, thinking of his treasured mecha, headed toward the palace.

The Thassat Palace looked splendid in the sunlight. It had a simple, unadorned beauty, which Vespasian appreciated. The clear marble stonework reflected any light that shone upon it and the seams themselves were gently crafted so that they helped rather than detracted from the look. Unfortunately, thought Vespasian, the top floor had too much light, and he shaded his eyes against it.

Voices, both high and cheerful, wafted toward him from around a corner. Vespasian hurried toward it and, on a wooden bench, saw Tristessa Csaba and the woman known to him only as Highwind. Tristessa, one of his subordinates in the Shadow Daggers and often the Daggers' voice of reason, waved at him.

Highwind, the lieutenant of a battleship called the Frantic Panic, nodded. Around Vespasian, she acted stoic, but somewhere in her blond hair and intriguingly large bosom, she had a sense of humor.

Tristessa looked up from the windows. Going somewhere? On duty?

Vespasian paused on the verge of entering the small niche and twirled his wrist. You could interpret it that way.

Tristessa gave him an amused frown, got up and saluted. In this case. Sergeant Sunburn, awaiting orders.

Vespasian grinned. I was interpreting it the other way.

Tristessa smiled and walked around the niche. Well, it doesn't hurt to be sure. What are you here for, then?

So you're here as Prince Shiraan? Highwind said.

Vespasian angled his head toward Highwind. I might still have a use for you, Tristessa. You can listen in, Highwind, but you can't come with.

Highwind shrugged and stretched an arm onto Tristessa's former seat. Hey, I understand. I'm just a lowly peasant.

Vespasian rolled his eyes. It involves a revolutionary.

This is interesting, Highwind said.

Who? Tristessa asked. Sasha? Someone from a rival House? A knowing smile stretched across her lips. This is about the fight you had earlier, isn't it?

Vespasian backed up a step. You know about that?

Tristessa shrugged. I saw good for you. Keep watching the gate, captain.

Highwind looked Vespasian up and down. You must came out ahead in it?

Actually, no, he defeated me. But Rochelle came in and, look, this isn't about me. This is about the other guy. He isn't Sasha. If he had been, I would have told you right away. And I don't think he's of a royal House. He peered at Highwind. Cover your ears.

Highwind showed him a wide smile and set her hands on her ears.

It's Edmund Volta, of the Truth Bringers.

I think I know of him, Tristessa said. Yeah. He's a revolutionary. I don't think I know much else than that.

He's similar to Sasha, Vespasian said. People do things when they see him. He creates attention with his actions and opinions.

Tristessa's active face reflected the emotions behind every word. She showed him surprise now. I can contribute to this?

You have stronger intuition than me, Vespasian said. I'm about to tell the Empress that he wants an audience. She'll probably say yes. I want to be careful. I want you to watch him, and tell me what you can read between the lines when the meeting is done.

Tristessa lifted an eyebrow and pursed her lips.

What do you say?

I'm in, Tristessa said. Did you ever doubt that?

Vespasian smiled. I'm just happy I found you here, then. Highwind? You can uncover your ears.

Highwind got her hands from her ears and said. If I might say something?

You didn't hear any of this.

You know I didn't, Highwind said. You told me to leave.

Good. What do you have to say? Vespasian asked.

Be very careful with Volta. It's said he's very controlled and polite, but his opinions are volatile. He can alter people just by standing with them.

I appreciate the heads up, Vespasian said. I should be able to manage it.

Tristessa, already observing the people around her, merely nodded.

Highwind nodded. See you later.

Vespasian, uncertain of the time when Volta would come to the Palace, jogged toward the central rooms where he would likely find his mother. Tristessa followed him and had to slow down to keep up with him. She was a strong friend and an excellent soldier, running laps more reliably than anyone else Vespasian had known, Mostly for the former reason, Vespasian felt concerned that she tried to ignore her former past as a cultist instead of acknowledging it.

When they arrived at the central rooms, Vespasian thumped his knuckles on the solid door.

It opened onto a long conference table with a shining surface and his mother sitting on one point of it. The woman before him attracted his attention more than either of them. She stood a foot shorter than him, had shoulder length blond hair, clear blue eyes, strong, sleek muscles and sapphire bracers on her wrists. She wore a silk gown of white, silver and blue: that of House Istevor.

Deirdre! Vespasian said.

Deirdre smiled. Yes, Prince Shiraan. Please come in.

Chapter 3

Rochelle's Silhouette, with its black cowl and cloak and hidden cockpit, looked menacing alongside Volta's Illustrious and the mecha of his subordinates. The Silhouette appeared out of place within the afternoon sunlight, at least in Rochelle's mind, but no one else across the courtyard seemed to notice. She felt a fondness for it, but it was not a mecha to be shown during the day.

Volta stood next to her and gazed up at his mecha. He was likely assessing it for any damage from the battle, Rochelle thought. His subordinates, one of them a tall blond and the other a brown haired guy with a straight stance, sat in their open cockpits, looking down and waiting for a command from either her or Volta. It made her almost think Vespasian was right to be paranoid.

Rochelle said, Okay, then, and melted some of the ice. What do you want to do with your mecha? We have a hangar for them.

Volta nodded. I am your guest. My people can pilot my mecha where it needs to go. Where is this hangar?

Rochelle winced. Volta's phrasing grated on her ears the first time he had talked. His words were carefully selected, almost archaic. She suspected that was a clue to his personality, but she wasn't sure what it suggested. The hangar's on the main wing, but an inspector is busy there today. The north wing is ready, though.

Volta nodded slowly.

Rochelle peered into Volta's dark eyes. You wouldn't know where that is, would you?

No, Volta said. Of course not. I'm not planning any unsavory actions.

Rochelle narrowed her eyes. Why are you here, then?

Volta smiled. But I cannot tell you my real reasons.

Rochelle sighed, but didn't reply. She gestured toward a worker in the courtyard who poured a purification mineral into the pool's water. The worker, a boy of ten or eleven and obviously awed at the height of the mecha, walked toward Rochelle. She told him to lead the mecha to the north wing and the boy nodded.

The boy is impressed, Volta said. Who wouldn't be, at that age, working with these beautiful fighting machines?

You aren't now? Rochelle said. I admire them whenever I pilot the Silhouette. They're unique and astonishing weapons.

Volta frowned at Rochelle from the peripheral view of one eye. She acknowledged a contrast between the dark red mohawk on his head and his piercing gaze. He acted rebellious in his appearance and intelligent in his mannerisms and speech and she couldn't get the connection between his traits. You don't seem like a warrior to me.

I'm a soldier, Rochelle said. I'm a lieutenant -

She's a lieutenant, said a low, rough voice. I'm Mazzaran, a sergeant and this woman's subordinate. We work for the Procyon Space Fleet of the Aura Empire.

Rochelle smiled and her eyes likely showed some of her relief. Hello, Mazzaran.

Mazzaran Capelli, codename Skulker, offered a hand for Volta to shake. Mazzaran wore a goatee, light on the sides and hairy on the bottom and a black top which showed his muscles as outlines and through a hole in one elbow. He was taller and burlier than both Rochelle and Volta, and Volta looked surprised to see another person so quickly.

Volta shook Mazzaran's hand. I'm pleased to meet you, Mazzaran. I'm Edmund Volta, leader of the Truth Bringers.

Mazzaran nodded and dragged his hand back slowly. I know of the Truth Bringers.

Volta got the same reaction to Mazzaran's tone as Rochelle. I see.

Most of it is rumor, Mazzaran said. I'm heading into the palace. You two with me?

Sure, Rochelle said.

Of course, Volta said. It's my first time here.

The three of them walked up the palace steps and into