Darkness of Mars

By Roger Ruffles

“Let me tell you the story of the Darkness of Mars, the time during the start of the Age of Secession when one of the greatest crimes against humanity was committed. This was the time when the majesty of the Sol System was reduced to nothing but ashes, the blood flowed freely and everywhere, borgite and humanist hated each other and fought to the death, and greedy men and women sought thrones to salve their own egos and self-importance, seeing power as a right rather than a responsibility. And it was all in the name of this planet – Mars.”
The Age of Secession takes a much darker turn, continuing with the House Lords and Ladies vying against each other, trying to build something new out of the ruins of what came before. The Red Empire of Mars has dissolved in a storm of blood, but its legacy lives on; old and new powers are rising from the darkest of places.
The secret of the Causeway is revealed, and the storm has broken. The Mercenary Lord James Gavain alone dares to hope that he can bring new light to atone for his failure. It is the Third Emperor’s successors who smile and laugh, thinking they have won, and they hold the key to the rest of the galaxy in their grasp.
Once more the Red Planet becomes the symbol of success, the jewel in the crown of the victor.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roger Ruffles
• Release date: Oct 2, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370269686

Roger Ruffles

I was born in 1980, in Cheshire.Despite that, I view myself as a Manchester lad, having spent most of my adult life in the city. I developed a keen interest in science fiction at a very early age thanks to a very popular time travel series on BBC1. This has led to a life-long interest in the genre, which continues to this day, proving that the licence fee is worth it after all. The appeal of science fiction, and fantasy, is in the escapism, the look at what could be, and the sheer imagination and suspension of belief it requires – and how despite its groundings in the far-fetched, real-life often comes to imitate the imaginings of those insane enough to love science fiction.I completed my first book at 15, and attempted but failed to get published. Looking back on it, this is probably more of a relief to those who like to read. It certainly allowed me to do more boring things, such as work, first in banking as an office junior, then in utilities in procurement, then manufacturing and latterly construction in commercial roles. It's more logical than it sounds written down.Writing is and always will be a hobby first and foremost, a love and a way to express. An escape from reality, whilst holding a mirror up to all that is good and bad in the world. I hope you enjoy reading my books, almost as much as I enjoyed writing them!

Book preview

Prologue

Nearly two hundred years into the future

After the Age of Secession began

The Legionnaire saluted as the ageing man approached the circular, airlock-like door. The influence of the pureblood Human spacefaring race was evident on the New Imperial architecture. The salute had not changed since the days of the Red Empire of Mars, the first Empire to rule augmented and unaugmented mankind. The man nodded in acknowledgement of the Imperial Salute.

The ageing man stopped outside the classroom door, wincing with the pain. It was sharp and stabbing, and all of a sudden he found himself short of breath. He pulled an oxygenator mask from his pocket and placed it over his mouth, breathing deeply as the medicine was administered and the heart attack was averted once again. His damaged body was repairing itself slowly, but the genetic virus used to attack him had been tailored specifically to his DNA, and it was proving troublesome for the medical professionals to eradicate. It metamorphosed several trillion times every second, and only nightly treatments prevented it from killing the rapidly ageing man in a few short days.

Curse him, thought the man, for doing this to me. A death by ten billion, trillion cuts.

Taking a breath that was so deep because he needed the mental reassurance rather than the physical replenishment, he entered the classroom. Unusually, the children within fell silent immediately, and that alerted him.

What have you done? he asked.

There was a chorus of denials, and then they fell silent again, staring raptly at him as he headed towards the front of the classroom. They were the future, the leaders who would one day rule, and he supposed despite his current debilitation, it was an honour to be here with them. They definitely thought it was a special treat to be taught by him.

Harley sat down ponderously, and then he realised why they had been so quiet when he entered. As the darkness outside spread, Mars rotating so this heavily damaged part of the planet was hidden from view and the sun was on the other side, the old man smiled. You want to know of my next story, in this, your final lesson of the day, was his quiet comment.

There was a chorus of affirmatives.

He looked once more at the blackness outside the window. Very well, he said, his face becoming serious as he remembered that time from centuries before, "let me tell you the story of the Darkness of Mars, the time during the start of the Age of Secession when one of the greatest crimes against humanity was committed. This was the time when the majesty of the Sol System was reduced to nothing but ashes, the blood flowed freely and everywhere, borgite and humanist hated each other and fought to the death, and greedy men and women sought thrones to salve their own egos and self-importance, seeing power as a right rather than a responsibility.

And it was all in the name of this planet – Mars.

Chapter I

In the fifth year

Of the Age of Secession

The woman connected via her cybernetic implant to the food moleculiser, requesting a steaming hot bowl of brown oxtail soup. The atoms were synthesised out of the material block in its loading compartment, pushed together according to a pattern held in the machine’s memory bank, and the whole thing directed through short-range energy waves into a solid container of edible food.

It did not matter that oxen had died out on Earth centuries ago, existing now only on planets in solar systems elsewhere in the colonised galaxy. The woman wanted oxtail soup, even if it was so hot it was burning her hands as she lifted it from the food synthesiser and placed it onto the small rotating droid waiting to carry it.

Blowing on her hands with perfect lips, the woman began her graceful walk across the wide spacious lounge. The droid followed behind her, suspensors humming at a pitch designed not to be intrusive. It was an expensive, top-of-the-range droid, as all things in this luxurious apartment were from the rich and exotic stuffed animals on the walls, to the nahalwood shelves, to the expensive cross-interstellar imported Neuyourk landwhale young fur rugs on the blood-red veined white Ravenna marble. Much like the woman, the marble at least was actually fake. The real woman probably had no idea.

The woman crossed into the bedroom of the big apartment, the droid following her. As she walked past the bed with the already-rotting dead bodies on it, she did not even blink. She had killed them, after all, when she had been using the guise of a man.

The bowl of soup steamed in the freezing cold night air out on the balcony. There was a heat-shield that could be activated, a curtain of warm air, but the woman had chosen not to do so tonight. Apparently the woman who really owned this apartment, whose form the killer had taken, did not usually use the heat-shield, regardless of which one of her toy boys had been summoned for the night. Her training and common-sense demanded she kept in character of the woman whose place she had assumed.

The killer sat at the floating table, the suspensor-chair rising up and skirting to the side to catch her perfect rump as it settled in. The droid placed the soup delicately and precisely onto the table top. The woman smiled pleasingly, using an eating-wand to spoon a carefully crafted mouthful into her precisely designed mouth.

As far as the datasphere was concerned, the beta-class business executive had taken a few days away from work before the planet-wide – and in fact, nation-wide and almost colonised galaxy-wide – holidays began. It was the night before the birth of some deity or other’s son according to long-forgotten myth, practiced and worshipped only by some of the most far-flung heretical zealots.

It was in character, for the executive had always lived here on Earth, since the days of the Red Imperium. The toy boy whose form the killer had assumed had been a regular visitor, which is why the assassin had chosen the toy boy to get to its next target, the executive who owned this apartment.

She gently dabbed at her lips with a napkin, and then asked the droid in a perfectly soft, silken voice to fetch her a warm drink. She did not want to walk back to the food synthesiser. Instead, she turned ever so slightly, and checked the secrecy screen was still in place.

The Palace of Communications was in the distance and on the horizon, its instantly recognisable form dominating the skyline. Even the most effective equipment in the Palace of Communications would not be able to penetrate this secrecy screen, and as the killer leaned forward, it was just as well.

Hardjacked directly into the powerful, long range and purpose-built to custom specification multi-fire rifle, the assassin was able to look right up the long North Palace Avenue. North Palace Avenue was one of the longest and widest roads in the megacity of St Petersburg, a main arterial route for ground and air traffic. It was why she had chosen this particular apartment, because of its height, the status of the person who owned it, and its position in the capital city of Earth and the home of the StarCom Federation. In the distance, she could see the gigantic ball that was the monstrous creation of a dictator long-gone from this world centuries past.

It was the StarCom Federation who ruled the Sol System, and it was the President of the Sol System that the biomorphic agent was here to kill.

President Giovanna Pereyra opened her real, human eyelids, and stared with her augmented borgite eyes at the ceiling of the cavernous theatre room. The Grand Sphere, actually built on the orders of the Tyrant Ascici, was as the named suggested; gigantic, spherical, and designed architecturally to engage every sense at once whether someone was jacked into a datasphere or not.

Rapturous applause at the Crossed Mass Eve concert’s end broke out, President Pereyra standing and inclining her head in a salute to the conductor suspended at the centre of the sphere. The holo-cameras were as much trained on President Pereyra as they were the orchestra. The music had been complemented by lights, sounds, smells, sensory exhilaration, and data-streaming. It was a totally immersive concert, ToImCo’s being all the rage among the augmented once again. The StarCom Federation was very heavily borgite, despite Pereyra’s increasingly relaxed attitude towards the unaugmented. It was not filtering down through her government.

Within her special viewing box, surrounded by Presidential Elite personal guardsmen vetted by herself as well as by the CID, Pereyra turned to the dark woman at her side, aware her words would be picked up by the floating droid-powered microphones. That was amazing, was it not, Director Chbihi? No-one, not even the President of the StarCom Federation, referred to the Director of the Central Intelligence Department by her first name very often in public, first name use being reserved for when they were alone or in front of the Vice-President and the Commander-in-Chief. Malika Chbihi was an imposing woman, and even someone as strong as Pereyra paid her the respect her position was due.

It was a mutual respect at least, as Director Chbihi focused deep brown and red-lined eyes on President Pereyra. It was passably enjoyable, President, if this is your sort of thing, Chbihi commented. Despite that, thank you for inviting me.

Pereyra smiled, amused. You’re welcome, she replied. The Presidential Elite want us to leave, I think. It’s time for us to return to the Palace.

The agent who was to be tonight’s assassin noticed the sudden upsurge in activity amongst the thrustcopters and repulsor-vehicles surrounding the Grand Sphere. Snow was beginning to fall, and it promised to get extremely thick within a few minutes, but there was no mistaking the convoy of armoured aircars making their way towards the main entrance to the Grand Sphere.

The agent leaned forwards, dialling up the magnification on the scope of the multi-rifle. The armoured aircars all carried the Presidential Elite flags, and one of the three vehicles in the centre would in theory carry the President Pereyra.

Except of course, that the agent had inside knowledge which indicated otherwise. Shifting her aim, she focused on a side entrance. There a very small convoy of hover armoured personnel carriers, with a few outriders on armoured repulsorcycles, waited in the suddenly thickening snow for the President Pereyra and Director Chbihi to exit the concert hall. The activity outside at the front was as much of a show as the proceedings inside the Grand Sphere.

There was no clear shot on the vehicles as the side entrance doors opened and a close-protection team of Presidential Elite exited. It did not matter, there would be plenty of force fields down there, so the agent knew not to bother even trying to take the shot.

As the woman who was the agent waited, she reflected that this sort of thing had been carried out by the Faceless Assassins not a few months past. The difficulty there was the Faceless Assassins, in fact the entire Fifth Circle to which the Faceless Assassins belonged, had disappeared with their arrested leader when she had escaped detention. The chief of the Faceless Assassins was not one to await her own execution; but the absence of the Faceless meant state assassinations such as this now fell to those who were covert operations specialists, biomorphs designed for the military and for hostile espionage activities rather than the super-engineered Faceless Assassins. They had been known as the Phantoms, members of the Sixth Circle which, now under the Third Empire’s new leadership, was known as Military Intelligence branch two, or MI-2 for short.

The woman focused her mind, as the much smaller convoy began to pull away from the side of the Grand Sphere. It drifted out at the lowest level of airlane onto the North Palace Avenue, and then began to pick up speed. Five hundred metres behind it, the fake convoy that was not carrying President Pereyra and Director Chbihi began to move as well, the distraction not fooling any of the assassins who were watching.

President Pereyra sat in the aircar, looking out of the one-way armoured metaglass side-window of the vehicle. The snow was falling heavily now, fizzing into water as soon as it struck the protective force-field around the vehicle she was in. The tall buildings along the North Parade Avenue began to flash by, as the vehicle climbed up into the air.

Malika, do you think Vice-President Schneider is a member of the Luminos organisation? President Pereyra asked.

Mercenary Lord Gavain’s Vindicatus Intelligence Agency seem to think so, on very little evidence, was Malika Chbihi’s response. But my Central Intelligence Department have never been able to confirm any form of link, or even suspicion beyond circumstantial – or fantastical.

There is the question of how he obtained enough support in the Star Parliament to arise from seemingly nowhere to get enough votes to put him in his current role, Pereyra mused thoughtfully.

He is an adept politician, Chbihi said, yes, he blackmailed, even bribed some people, nothing beyond the usual. He got to his position as second in command of the Federation through mostly legal means.

The Enforcers and the Adjudicators may think differently, Pereyra snorted gently.

They can think what they like, it is the reality of politics, Malika Chbihi shrugged. His methods were morally questionable, and in cases illegal, but then much of what you and I decide every day is. That does not make Johann Schneider a Third Empire puppet.

He is a scheming, unpleasant, disturbed little rat, commented Pereyra.

But not working for the Luminos organisation, Chbihi countered. We would have found the evidence by now. We continue to watch though, of course.

The Phantom assassin focused on the view through the multi-rifle, zeroing in on the form of the armoured car carrying the President and the Director. The heavily guarded distraction convoy trailed along North Parade Avenue far behind their vulnerable train of vehicles. In theory the President Pereyra and Director Chbihi never travelled together, but they were now in the much more lightly guarded covert convoy, relying on secrecy rather than numbers to protect them.

It was a shame for them that their secrecy had been so comprehensively compromised.

She kept her weapon focused in on the vehicle, using her biomorphic augmentations to slow her heart rate and increase responsiveness. Accuracy was going to be everything in this. Her chest did not move with any inhalation or exhalation, the multi-rifle perfectly still.

Hurry up, she thought mentally, just at the point when the bomb went off.

The explosion rocked the aircar, and President Pereyra slammed her hand against the metaglass window for support.

she exclaimed across the datasphere in that first nanosecond, as fire began to roil up past the armoured windows.

replied the borgite Director Chbihi, calm as her training dictated.

Their aircar was spinning out of control, whirling around as it descended towards the ground with speed. Emergency systems cut in, trying to break their fall, but it was with little success. Pereyra gave a brief scream as she looked past the grim and stoic Director Chbihi at the windows of the tower rushing towards them.

Pereyra demanded, panicked despite herself.

replied Director Chbihi. There was a tone of rebuke in there that Pereyra would have found secretly amusing in different circumstances.

The aircar crashed into the superstructure of the tower, the skyscraper shuddering with the impact of their armoured vehicle. There was a major grinding of metal and a terrifying screeching noise as the aircar rebounded off, spinning again on a trajectory to plough into the metacrete hardtop floor of the roadway below.

The Phantom assassin watched from her luxurious apartment’s balcony, as the aircar span towards the metacrete floor. Force-fields were already coming back on, those that had been damaged and penetrated in the initial bomb blast. It had been a targeted missile strike, to penetrate the car shielding, with the bomb following through afterwards to break through the heavy armour and pulp the drivers, both human and droid.

The aircar impacted the roadway, the last of its returning force-fields blanking out with the impact. It flip-flopped, turning up into the air on the axis of its ruined front, smashing up and over so the rear struck the roadway. It continued in its roll once more, flipping again before screeching at an awkward angle to a halt.

Repulsorcycles were already screaming around them, the light escort guard abandoning all pretence as they landed to cover the leader of the StarCom Federation and her head of intelligence.

Pereyra had tears of pain strolling down her face. Electronics sparked within the back of the aircar, roof panels ripped away, the reinforced metaglass actually shattered from the impact. A large metal panel had shorn and then descended from the shielding separating the passenger compartment from the drivers section, and had cut deeply into her left leg. She stared at her own blood, her body going into shock as it protected her brain from the debilitating agony waiting to be unleashed on her nervous system. Her non-military augments did not carry the modifications to deal with this type of injury.

Director Malika Chbihi said urgently,

Director Chbihi pulled Pereyra to her feet within the aircar, ignoring the screams that started suddenly from President Pereyra. Chbihi snapped, irritated at the display.

Half-standing in the ruined aircar passenger compartment, Chbihi looked out of the open door. Presidential Elite soldiers were gathering around them, but Director Malika Chbihi did not know who to trust. She grinned despite herself, it feeling good to be on active operations again, even if her life and the life of the President depended upon it.

The Presidential Elite repulsorcycle outriders, four of them, were activating protective force-fields to shield the car. Instinct warned Director Chbihi, that all was not yet done here. She reached deep inside herself, activating a special augmentation she had implanted many decades ago into her body. It might well provide invaluable now in protecting their lives.

The implant scanned both herself and Pereyra, ready to provide the only protection it could.

The assassin watched from her balcony, knowing there was perhaps only seconds before more Presidential Elite made it to the downed aircar. From what the assassin could see, there were four of the personal protective guards there, with a force-field to protect the occupants of the car. News media thrustcopters were already overhead, having being closer by, sensing perhaps that the real story was here.

President Pereyra and Director Chbihi exited from the aircar, surrounded almost instantly by the four Presidential Elite outriders. The assassin focused in on President Pereyra, using the multi-rifle scope to counter the deliberate obscuring, opaque field now protecting them.

Come on, the assassin thought.

The first shot came from north of the crash site, scooting low over the upturned side of the aircar and reducing the head of one guard to a pulp. A second shot came from almost a hundred and eighty degrees to the right, the other assassin showing off as he or she took out two Presidential Elite guardsmen with the one shot.

A drone floated above the remaining guard and the heavily limping, crying, screeching form of President Pereyra, who was supported by Director Chbihi. The force-field covered them like a curtain, but then the drone detonated. The fire blanketed them, washing over the force-field even as it obliterated the guardsman.

It cleared and President Pereyra and Director Chbihi were left in the open, undefended, their help and reinforcements literally maybe one or two seconds away.

It was all the opening the assassin needed, however, and she pulled the trigger.

President Pereyra was in sheer agony now, and knew that she was not yet feeling the worst from her injury. She looked up as the guards around were shot in very quick succession from a variety of different angles, and they were exposed as the protective shield around them evaporated under the detonation of the explosive drone-bomb.

She remembered thinking that at that moment, they were exposed, unprotected.

The highly powered laser-shot darted through the air, and ripped the top half of her head off, shattering the skull, pulping the brains, and leaving the burning jaw to fall away slowly afterwards.

The assassin followed her training, and did not wait to watch the shot hit home. She would watch it strike President Pereyra over and over again over the next few hours, before more important news moved even the assassination of the leader of the StarCom Federation out of the headlines, courtesy of the media crews flying above the kill-zone.

The assassin had already utilised the mental command to make the weapon disintegrate, and was walking away from the balcony. Within minutes this place would have been identified as the source of the killing shot, however inefficient or excellent the StarCom authorities were going to prove to be, and she did not want to be anywhere near here when they came knocking at the door.

She crossed the apartment, past the bodies of the real owner and her toy boy. Her body was already changing, metamorphosing as she walked. Her legs were growing shorter and more muscular, her shoulders widening and squaring, her hair shortening to a sharp buzz-cut. Eyes changed colour, the skull widened and the jawline became more pronounced. The clothes changed as well, the synth-skin suit re-designing itself, turning into hardened armour, an Adjudicator’s badge shining on the breast plate.

A male Adjudicator exited the apartment door, all trace of the woman the assassin had been gone.

Chapter II

The man who had been Vice-President Johann Schneider frowned ever so gently, in a determined but what he hoped was a reassuring way, as he looked at the holo-camera before him.

"I would urge the citizens of the StarCom Federation to take heart, and sleep peacefully tonight on Crossed Mass Eve in the knowledge that despite this terrible, heinous murder of President Pereyra, we will do all that we can in tracking down whomever is responsible for her assassination. We cannot allow such a slight to our great nation to go unpunished.

"Unfortunately, I must also ask for you to bear with us as we respond to this crime. It is with regret that I must announce the implementation of emergency measures, specifically introducing martial law throughout all of the Sol System. Sol will be put onto lockdown, with no space traffic allowed in or out, and all communications through hyperpulse communications generators restricted until further notice. All citizens of whatever class are requested to remain at home, or return home within the next hour, or face on-the-spot execution for failure to obey this directive of martial law. Comply with all instructions received from the correct authorities as they are issued.

"Hopefully this situation will not be long-term, and is a short-term measure only. I will make further announcements over the coming days, so return to StarCom News Media Channel One or jack into the relevant parts of the global datasphere if you wish to receive further public service broadcasts.

This is your acting President Johann Schneider, in the name of the StarCom Federation.

The acting President Johann Schneider leaned back, away from the desk, relaxing into his suspensor-chair. His equal, level gaze remained locked on the holo-cameras as the light panels above the recording sensors changed colour.

All done, Mister President, cameras off, a broadcasting manager said, voice trembling slightly.

You’d best leave the droid-cams here, and return home, President Schneider waved a hand dismissively. Now. Schneider watched the holocamera crew virtually scramble to leave the Golden Room, one of the most powerful places to be in the StarCom Federation.

Schneider rubbed his hands along the suspensor-chair arm rests as he watched them leave, a wide smile upon his face and satiated hunger in his eyes. He was thinking of all the times he had attended this room in recent years as Vice-President to President Pereyra when she sat in this very chair.

This was the same Giovanna Pereyra who had been killed only slightly earlier today, whose assassination had provided the excuse he needed to not only take the Presidency, but to implement martial law. That had been step one in the masterplan of the Luminos, the organisation he worked for, the group who had sworn allegiance to the Third Emperor.

Johann Schneider raised his eyes, and looked at the approaching, rotund form of Commander-In-Chief Jaiden Ryan. Now it was time for the second step. Jaiden Ryan had been in the room all through the broadcast, but his girth was of such greatness that he needed a considerable bit of time to wobble around the circumference of the table in the Golden Room, Schneider thought unkindly and with characteristic cruelty. With today’s medical advancements, there really were very few excuses for such a girth.

Schneider watched the repulsor motors on the suspensor chair on his right struggle with Ryan’s unusual weight as he lowered his bulk into it. Acting President Johann Schneider was not misled by the apparently genial manner of Ryan, as the man who headed the armies and navies of StarCom was both dangerous and ruthless. Schneider smiled ever so slightly; Pereyra had appeared gentle and kind, as well as relaxed, but had been nothing of the sort, displaying a ruthlessness Ryan and Schneider also hid underneath their guises. Out of the four of them who had guided the StarCom Federation these last few years, only Director Malika Chbihi – who was also presumed dead – had been openly direct, uncompromising and overtly lethal in her approach, never bothering with the niceties.

Is martial law really necessary? Ryan asked. It seems to be something of an overkill, if you pardon the expression in the circumstances.

Schneider, ever the politician, spread his hands wide. Giovanna Pereyra was assassinated, Jaiden. We have not captured even one of the assassins, and all indications are they were biomorphs.

Advanced cybernetic biomorphs means either Vindicatus, which is unlikely though possible, Jaiden Ryan replied, Lord Gavain has some of his people in the system right now, after all. Or more likely Third Empire, which considering Director Chbihi was trying to hunt down the Luminos organisation are the most likely culprits. Either way, the biomorphic assassins are long gone, a trail of bodies in their wake as per normal, and probably untraceable – so I return to my point. Martial law is not necessary or required. Apart from to you and me, where is the threat?

Locking down the Sol System prevents the assassins from escaping, Schneider wagged a finger. The communications black-out means they cannot summon help. Martial law means they will either have to hunker down and we stand a better chance of finding them, or they have to break the martial law, and we track them.

It’s a wild hope – Ryan began, but Acting President Schneider cut him off.

Commander-in-Chief, the martial law is enacted, as is my right and also protocol in this sort of situation. The decision is made.

Okay, Commander-in-Chief Ryan adjusted his StarCom Armed Forces uniform, shifting uncomfortably in the chair. Your command has been made. Sorry to prompt you on this delicate matter, Johann, but I have not yet seen the evidence that Pereyra and Chbihi are dead.

Johann Schneider could not help but laugh, a break from his usual serious politician’s demeanour. Please don’t try that one, Jaiden. You saw Pereyra’s head explode all over the aircar.

Protocol is protocol however, and process must be followed, Ryan pointed out. The Star Parliament will convene tomorrow in special session despite the holidays, for you to be sworn in as President. We will need to see the evidence of her death then. You can provide this, I assume?

Of course, Schneider answered. Legally, I must.

Good, Ryan nodded, and Schneider’s eyes flickered with darkness for the barest of moments.

But we must act now, and I am sure you see that. I am the Acting President, as Vice President. I am the leader. You are not challenging that either, I am sure? Schneider asked pointedly.

There was a pause. Schneider was aware he had never been fully trusted by any of the other three of the most powerful people in the StarCom Federation. With good reason, as he well knew. Of course I agree, on both counts, Ryan replied quietly.

Good, Schneider countered, deliberately using the one-word phrase that had brought his hackles up before. Displaying his characteristic coldness, he proceeded to say, I will transmit to you via datasphere the list of units I find acceptable for the martial law enforcement. Lists of a similar nature are being sent to the Central Intelligence Department, the Adjudicators and the Enforcers.

Ryan blinked a few times, surprised. He was obviously jacking into the datasphere and accessing the list of military units he had been directed to use in the enforcement of the martial law. There was a pause of a few seconds before his eyes re-focused and he fixed Acting President Schneider with his gaze. All pretence was dropped, and he spoke with open suspicion and hostility.

Acting President Schneider, he began. I have to ask, why is it necessary to present me with a list of units I can use in the martial law, and confine the rest to barracks or postings? And, why do I have to use these particular units? Are you not infringing on my sphere or responsibility, here?

As we just established, Schneider replied coldly, I am the Acting President. If I want to instruct certain units to be used in the martial law, I shall do so, and I do not have to answer to you or anybody else for that matter.

I accept that, but why these units then?

I do not have to answer, but I will, Schneider replied. Intelligence has indicated that there are certain issues with some of the units confined to posting, or other such reasons. Either way, only units I trust will be allowed to police the martial law, be they martial or law enforcement. Follow my orders, Jaiden, or I will find someone who will.

Schneider could see Jaiden Ryan was highly suspicious, but it did not matter. All that mattered was that he sent the orders out as Commander-in-Chief. Schneider wanted to make sure only those units he had selected were out in the streets of the cities of the planets, and controlling the space-lanes in the Sol System, and all the other major sites or places of significant importance when twenty-two hundred hours Imperial Standard time was upon them. That hour was only a handful of hours away.

Ryan, Schneider repeated sharply. You are saying nothing. Am I finding someone who will accept my authority and my orders?

No, Ryan shook his head. He began to stand, which was painful to watch. Acting President Schneider, I will attend to those orders now. Do you have anything else to discuss?

No, Schneider shook his head.

I will see you in the Star Parliamentary Hall tomorrow, then, during special session, Ryan nodded. By your leave.

Granted, Schneider replied sharply. He kept the grim, determined, angry look on his face until Commander-in-Chief Jaiden Ryan had left the Golden Room. Then, he relaxed suddenly, dropping the mask. Fool, he whispered quietly to himself. As long as Jaiden did as he asked, that was all that mattered to Schneider.

He leaned forwards, jacking into the datasphere. He activated a special series of codes and programmes, delving deep into a hidden data-room deep within the datasphere. Heavily encoded, protected by security he knew had never been broken or uncovered by the StarCom Federation – partly because many of its enforcement, military and intelligence agents had also been using this hidden part of the datasphere – he was suddenly mentally joined by a large number of people who were members of the Luminos organisation.

he addressed them, calling them to his attention. The Master of the organisation demanded a cessation of chatter, allowing Schneider to speak.

the Master replied.

came the resounding cries, of the traitors to the StarCom Federation.

Jaiden Ryan stood upon the travellator-droid, having instructed it with a terse mental command to speedily take him through the Palace of Communications. He had used his borgite augmentation to command a fast turbolift to propel him part-way across the large continental landmass towards a military spaceport.

Initially he had thought he would head to the StarCom Armed Forces HeadQuarters, the Federal Guard HeadQuarters, or perhaps take a lander towards Mars, but he had decided to head for the naval ship-of-the-line he had reserved for his own personal use. The T-class dreadnought SFSS Touchstone was always in orbit of wherever he was, typically either the Sol System or one of the local star systems. He would remain in Sol and return to Earth tomorrow for the special session of the Star Parliament, but he wanted the space and time to think.

Some instinct was also warning the experienced, wily old borgite to make sure he was not in a predictable location when the martial law was enacted. He was also making sure he was surrounded only by people he explicitly trusted. Something very unpleasant and shocking was about to happen, he was sure of it.

He wanted to get off Earth as soon as possible.

Every instinct was screaming at him that there was something not right about Schneider’s orders. To interfere with the military, especially at this point and time so soon after the assassination of Pereyra and possibly Director Chbihi, was not an action Ryan had expected.

He was still analysing the orders, looking for any sign or clue as to Acting President Schneider’s intentions, but he could find none. The political leanings of the units were well known and documented, through both overt and covert means. Some were pro-Pereyra, some pro-Schneider. Roughly two thirds of the military were being confined to barracks or their stations within Sol, but Ryan could not discern any obvious logic behind the selection methods employed.

Well, thought Ryan, I will follow orders, but not immediately. He would issue some of the orders, but not to the letter. He wanted units he explicitly trusted in key locations, or nearby, throughout Sol. He would claim it was a confusion in interpretation, something that would not be believed but would be hard for Schneider to challenge. Instinct told him that something very much unexpected was about to happen, and that moving the military around in the way Schneider had dictated was a precursor to something.

All he knew is, he had to find out what had happened. He had seen the holo-camera evidence that Pereyra had been shot, and had independently confirmed it through satellite imagery, but no such shot had been seen striking Director Chbihi. Why then had she not resurfaced somewhere in the immediate minutes after the attack? Was she dead?

There were too many questions, and something was not right somewhere, instincts finely tuned from surviving the days of the Red Imperium and now the Age of Secession was warning Jaiden Ryan of that.

They had always suspected Schneider of plotting against Pereyra, and Lord Gavain of Vindicatus had even been convinced that there was a link between Schneider and the Luminos organisation working for the Third Empire. Ryan was not sure,