Ascent of Mars

By Roger Ruffles

This compilation book contains all three novels in the Ascent of Mars trilogy.

Part I – Oncoming Storm
The Causeway; what it is, no-one outside of the Third Empire knows for sure. Even the majority of the Shadows who operate within the Third Empire know little of what is intended to do. All that is certain, is that it was born from the fevered insanity of the Third, Shadow Emperor, and in his damaged, splintering mind it will change the course of the Age of Secession once again.

Part II – Darkness of Mars
“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.”

Part III - Rise of the Diadochi :
This is the story of the Diadochi, the successors to the Emperors of Mars, and the families that fight for that old title. They would be the new Emperors of the Age of
Secession, because in a tired and weary galaxy, the secessionists have finally given birth to their new masters.

About The Series
Age of Secession wants to entertain, challenge and introduce people to science fiction based on politics, society and real-life concerns, and imaginatively address topics relevant to today whilst telling a gripping story.
Whilst some books come close, very few quite manage to bring the right mix of entertainment with some of the more world-shaking events we experience today. Age of Secession leads the way in showing that you can have a star-spanning operatic drama with some very common human failings and successes with stories not out of place in novels of romance, horror, crime, thriller and suspense, mixing all these genres in the best traditions of imaginative science fiction.
But it also shows that as well as telling a ripping yarn, a gripping story can also deal with serious modern-day issues - such as the strong themes of social inequality and political upheaval amongst others - that ride underneath the plots. Whether you want to just kick back, imagine you were your favourite character and enjoy the tale, or you want to turn the stories in the light to reflect on the very real things that happen today, occurred in the past, and might feature in the future, Age of Secession is the series that you want to read.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roger Ruffles
• Release date: Sep 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370511051

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 man in the rich fabrics and cloths walked slowly into the class-room, his body still healing from the ferocious trauma it had suffered. He was nearly two centuries old, but that was not even middle-aged by modern standards, and he felt twice that age. Through the metaglass windows, the ruins of the city could be seen, the red dust blowing in and reclaiming everything. It had been decided not to rebuild, all that time ago, but to leave this part of the planet forever as a testament to what had happened. Its destroyed state was a mirror of the man’s own body, the scars deep and the ruins mocking.

He sat down in front of the assembled children, all of them cross-legged in front of him on the floor. Schoolrooms such as this were not common, but reserved for the rich, the powerful, and the vain; except this one was special. Each one of the children was the heir or heiress to someone very powerful indeed, and it helped to have them grow up together. It was a common technique used for thousands of years, to bring those who might one day have to face off across each other on the battlefield, in the houses of government, in the law court or in the bedroom, into contact with each other early in their lives. It lessened the chances of misunderstandings.

Yes, thought the man, as he waited for the children to pay him attention, their rulers had re-learnt that one again. Such unity of approach and thinking had not existed when he was a child. He was unsure whether he approved, but it gave him something to do while he recuperated. He sighed and pulled his mind back to the present; it seemed it was the nature of the human race to forever make the same mistakes, over, and over, and over again.

So, children, he said, speaking aloud. What would you like to hear of today?

A number of hands shot up into the air.

Yes, young man, he said, pointing at one who was usually amongst the more quiet of the group.

Sir, he said, big eyes staring forwards, voice faltering as he spoke shyly. It’s the Day of the Diadochi today. Could you tell us about something that led to the rise of the diadochi again?

Some of the children groaned, but the man held up his hands and they quietened instantly.

Very well, he said. I will tell you a new story, one you may not know. You are probably old enough to hear it now, anyway. We don’t tell this story often, even in my family. You won’t know, and it’s not often spoken about, but the great hero James Gavain often thought he had as many failures as he did victories; but at the time he viewed this story as being one of his worst failures ever. He viewed it as his biggest mistake, worse even than when he obliterated fifteen star systems, believing there to be no cure to indoctrination. Do you want to hear it?

There was a chorus of affirmatives from the children, and the man laughed.

Then I shall begin, he said. This is the story of the oncoming storm, and James Gavain’s greatest failure.

Chapter I

Near the end of the fourth year

Of the Age of Secession

The two hovercycles coasted gently through one of the many industrial zones of Olympus Mons City, decelerating as one after another they dropped down towards the shattered ground level. They left the mostly abandoned lower tier of the air-lanes formerly used by hover-capable vehicles, moving slowly along the deserted main roadway. The repulsorcycles bore the Enforcer emblem on their protective, armoured riders’ shields, although the traditional galaxy-wide symbol was carried on the background of the StarCom Federation, which now ruled Mars and the entire Sol System.

said the lead Enforcer Full Class across their private datasphere, her head moving within the visored helmet as she looked around at the devastated buildings to either side.

said her wing-rider, a Lance Enforcer. The repulsorcycles throttled down to low power, barely making a noise as they coasted along the roadway, having to dip below collapsed building superstructure and jump shattered rubble and remains all along the wide street.

snapped the Enforcer Full Class Muller,

replied the Lance Enforcer Deinhart.

scoffed the embittered Enforcer Muller.

The Lance Enforcer Deinhart wisely kept the rest of his opinion to himself. He remembered what it had been like, the fear as the False Emperor descended further into madness, as the Praetorian Guard had turned on each other, stormed the Sol System, invaded Mars, and the False Emperor had been shot in the head at the Red Palace here in Olympus Mons City. It had been the end of several years of civil war, of hatred and suffering. Although Deinhart had to admit, his officer had a point, Dissolution of the Red Imperium had not led to an end to the pain. As the Red Empire tore itself apart, the killing and fighting had increased as the noble Houses had scrabbled for power.

He brought his mind back to the present, as Enforcer Muller said,

replied Enforcer Deinhart, completely deactivating his repulsorcycle. As the hover engine powered down, the landing struts extended and the machine gently touched pads to the metacrete roadway. He swung his left leg off the hovercycle, supporting with his right hand as the left unlocked the Scaletipper-model pulser-rifle from its magnetic seal on his back. His eye augments lit up with a target-painting display as he scanned for any threat. There was nothing here, he thought, this is a waste of time.

ordered Enforcer Full Class Muller. She had un-locked her Peacemaker shotgun, preferring close and personal, from her Class-II Enforcer Suit armour.

Deinhart looked at the target building before them. It was unremarkable from the other industrial units, about ten stories high, a feeder gantry running above it which had been damaged in the fall of a tower further up the street. This building had survived intact, but many on the street had not. Hundreds of thousands had perished here when the dome protecting this part of Olympus Mons had been breached by the invading Praetorian Guard Marines, destroyer warships firing turbolasers and nuclear-tipped torpedoes from orbit. Those whom the Martian atmosphere had not killed, had perished in the wash of nuclear radiation, even as the protective shields had been re-established. The area still had residual traces of radiation harmful to human life, even now.

Enforcer Muller carefully began to mount the steps leading to the entrance door before her. The red dust of Mars shrouded the entire area, blown in from the rock deserts beyond the city limits. Enforcer Deinhart used his cybernetic, augmented mind to command his pulser-rifle to switch on to fully automatic fire.

asked Lance Enforcer Deinhart.

said Muller.

commented Deinhart. In front of him, Muller used a lightwire connection from an implant on her palm to jack into the door’s systems, automatically opening them with a grinding of red dust.

said Muller.

She crossed into the threshold, and following her, Deinhart did the same, moving to the left rapidly and dropping to one knee, weapon ready to fire. The entranceway to the building was deserted.

he said.

she ordered.

They moved through the building, searching in vain for any sign of life. The dust was not disturbed, the cleaning droids deactivated. There was no energy feed to the building, which had made the sudden power drain stand out as unusual, not just because it was so powerful.

Illumination panels in the corridors did not activate as they moved across the metal gantries and grids, not that they needed them with their augmented borg eyes. There was no power to the building now. Abandoned droids littered the floor of the laboratories and offices. It was eerie at one point, the half-light from the dying planetary day’s sun sending a low amber through the metaglass windows.

said Muller.

Deinhart felt it. he said. He accessed a layout plan of the building, showing the first of several huge fabricating halls beyond a clean-room further up a corridor beyond the office section.

ordered Muller, reading the same layout plan on their shared datasphere.

The pair of Enforcers carefully moved onwards, alert for any sign of anything, be it a droid, a drone, a humanist, or a borgite. They saw nothing untoward as they moved into the clean-room, through a form of airlock before they crossed into the first fabricating hall. Delicate augmentations had been manufactured in this giant building, and the fabrication areas had to be clear of all forms of contaminants.

The building mainframe cycling the clean-room airlocks, and the lights went green above the entrance tunnel to the fabricating hall beyond. The door cycled open, the hole at the centre growing wider as it permitted them egress into the corridor beyond.

swore Muller as she saw what lay beyond.

Deinhart saw it through her eyes, using their shared datasphere, gasping. He strode forwards, careful to scan for any sign of life, although he detected none as he stepped onto the exit gantry. He stared over the balcony, looking into the pit of the hall.

The separating walls had been knocked through and removed, linking the halls one after another into one huge space. Going nearly a hundred metres underground, floors had been removed, to create an open area. At the far end of the gigantic cavern, there was a strange structure, which was obviously not intended to be there. It was like nothing either had ever seen before, in the lit mega-hall. Power thrummed throughout this part of the building, holo-projections activated and console graphic displays in working order, to either side of the strange construction at the end of the room.

said Deinhart.

Their datasphere suddenly came under attack, an incredibly potent virus smashing through the firewalls impossibly fast. Another mind broke into their datasphere, and a voice with cruel humour in it said,

Deinhart whirled around, but it was a trick, for the voice had not come from behind. He felt the mental anguish of Muller behind him, and he began to turn back in slow motion. A human cry began to sound out, and his peripheral vision caught something he had only ever seen on holo-vids and news broadcasts.

Emerging from its chameleonic field, light bent around it to protect its presence, a black synth-skinned cybernetic biomorph had been revealed. It had morphed one arm, the hand turning into a spike which it had driven directly through the light Enforcer armour Muller wore. Another hand was coming up to her chest, the muzzle of a weapon sickeningly appearing from the wrist, and it fired at point-blank range into the centre-piece of armour above her heart.

Deinhart’s finger tightened, or at least he sent the thought. When his pulser did not fire its rapid spread of laser beams, he began to frown, even as the blood dripped from his mouth inside his helmet. The stench of burning was filling his nostrils.

His heart was slowing. He looked down, to see his arms had been hacked off, and there was a hole in his armour, his heart liquefied by the heavy-duty blaster shot that had blown through his back. He had been killed by something behind. As he thought it, the blood and awareness drained from his brain, and he died.

The two Faceless agents looked at each other. one of them said on their unit’s datasphere.

All throughout the widened hall, the air shimmered as the workers, agents and guards lowered their chameleonic fields. There were many more of them here in the supposedly abandoned building, working around the device.

said the other Faceless Assassin.

The station commander, a Centurion of the Third Empire, broke into their discussion. it said,

both of the Faceless Assassins said.

The two cybernetic biomorphs removed the helmets of both victims, and then used special implants to quickly absorb the memories of their targets. Even as they did it, they read the DNA of their victims, bodies beginning to morph and change. They assumed different heights, synth-skin turning into armour plating, and after about thirty seconds, Enforcer Muller and Enforcer Deinhart stood where the two Faceless Assassins had been.

said the Centurion, knowing as they all did that as much as they needed to test the construction’s systems, their tapping into the local energy grid would bring this sort of unwanted attention. They had gone back to generator power, but now they knew they could get into the grid when they needed to, and more importantly, the construction worked; or at least, it could achieve the required full power and activation. The assassins were to provide the final piece of cover, for they had to remain undetected on Mars for a while yet.

both assassins replied.

*

Commodore Jason Bramhall exited the turbolift onto the bridge of the Y-class frigate VSS Youngheart, an apt name considering his own relatively young age for the rank that he held. As he received the salutes of the bridge crew he returned them, the duty officer announcing,

he asked, easily striding across the small bridge and taking the captain’s chair off the duty officer, sitting down calmly.

said the Lieutenant,

Commodore Bramhall coughed slightly and relaxed into the chair, asking one of the ex-Praetorian Guard navvies to fetch him a synthesised coffee. As he did so, he also jacked into the datasphere, reading the second shift ship’s reports, and then focusing on their current situation.

Bramhall had gone back to field operations, commanding and leading one of the three contracts the Vindicatus nation of the Mercenary Lord James Gavain were currently engaged upon. Commodore Bramhall, utilising those frigates and corvettes of Eighth Fleet and Fourth Fleet not currently on special operations throughout the colonised galaxy, was prosecuting the contract with the StarCom Federation to disrupt privateers and pirates in the employ of the League of Suularitsaar from raiding across the two nations’ shared borders.

Commodore Bramhall’s four Y-class frigates, captured during the last Shadow War, were currently running silent in the uninhabited EC-1499 System, chameleonic fields engaged to prevent their detection. The deserted system, according to the StarCom Federation’s Central Intelligence Department, was one of many uninhabited systems being used on the League-Federation border for the privateer raiders to sneak across in their stinging attacks. The series of wars between the League and the Federation could re-erupt at any moment, but here in the southern part of the Core, the hostilities were never completely over.

Two days ago there had been an attack on a StarCom system, which had resulted in a military convoy being intercepted and hijacked. The privateers had jumped elsewhere, but analysis of the jump trajectory of the captured convoy ships showed they were heading back to Suularitsaar space. When they crossed the border, there were only three systems they could jump into, and Bramhall had a team waiting in each.

As he sipped at his coffee, he mulled it over. The captured convoy cargo-freighters and tanker were military, ex-Praetorian design, which meant they would be hard for a normal House frigate squadron to assault. His were the advanced, post-Dissolution Praetorian design however, and with the element of surprise he fancied his chances. The only problem is one of his squadrons should have detected the captured convoy by now, and they had not.

It was shame, really, he reflected. Their contract with the StarCom Federation stated that they had salvage rights to all ships taken during the course of the contract, except military ships belong to the Federation. They could loot and claim any League of Suularitsaar military or civilian ships however. At this rate, it did not look as if they would be claiming any salvage rights, as the captured Federation convoy seemed to have disappeared.

the scanners operator announced calmly,

Ah, thought Bramhall, suddenly smiling, putting his near empty cup of coffee into the holder on the arm of his chair. That fit the profile of their targets.

A flash of blinding white light, and a hole was ripped into realspace by the ships translating into the system from hyperspace. As they rapidly decelerated with eye-watering distortion, the impossibly elongated hulls snapped back into the dimensions they would normally display.

Two cargo-freighters led at the front, two tankers behind, then four more cargo-freighters arranged in a square pattern at the rear. They coasted forwards at their gentle realspace speed, untouched for the barest of seconds.

In that first second, Bramhall read the tactical scanner feeds, his cybernetic mind ingesting the displays. This was unexpected; the ships were not ex-Praetorian Guard but of a design commonly used by the League of Suularitsaar, and he realised what had happened. The delay in their arrival was because the League of Suularitsaar had swapped out the cargos onto civilian ships, which only made them easier targets.

Bramhall smiled. he said, directly accessing the datasphere that he had given permission to be established with his frigates,

They would be able to take them all as salvage, he knew, so he wanted as little damage as possible. It was going to be a good day.

announced a mission controller.

said the helmsman.

As the VSS Youngheart accelerated, changing angle so as to bear in on one of the tankers behind, the strikepods roared away from their launch tubes. The strikepods moved fast, the cloud of specially designed assault ships moving faster than even a torpedo as they crossed the small distance to their target.

Clouds of strikepods were erupting through this region of space, as more strikepods were launched from the frigates Yearning, Yawning, and Yardage in the first two seconds of contact. The clouds all focused in on the undefended, unprotected convoy that had translated in. The strikepods fired a complicated series of repulsors and forcefields to slow their rapid approach, magnetic locks and grappling devices latching onto the thick hulls of their targets.

One of the strikepods launched from the Youngheart hit the lead cargo-freighter directly above its bridge, with pinpoint accuracy. As cutting lasers began to burn into the hull plating, the strikepod settled in, locking down tightly onto the protective armour. It created a seal, ensuring there would be no sudden decompression which would throw the strikepod off as the cargo-freighter was breached.

Colonel Tschavirev, commander of Fourth Fleets Marines, led from the front as was the Praetorian Guard way. He dropped down through the hole burned into the hull of the cargo-freighter, his heavily armoured form smashing heavily through the holo-display and console beneath him.

Laser shots left scorch marks on his armour, but he carried a rotary cannon mounted on his left arm, and he swept it around in a rapid arc. The projectiles whipped out with blurring speed, parts of the bridge and the blood and flesh of the small pirate crew erupting in all directions.

More of his Marines dropped down, but Colonel Tschavirev was striding forwards, mag-locking boots clunking on the deck plating, a precaution against failure of the artificial gravity. With his right hand he pointed the over- and under-slung laser barrels at the captain of the ship, who was screaming as she desperately fired a shotgun at him. It was pointless against Marine armour, and Colonel Tschavirev felt no emotion as he sent two blisteringly bright ruby red beams of laser light through the brain-pan of his target.

he announced on the datasphere. He turned to his adjutant, a Sergeant behind him. he said, more reports coming in to him from his teams on the other privateer ships.

Commodore Bramhall said, satisfaction in his voice.

said Tschavirev,

His teams echoed the Mercenary Lord’s hail thought the convoy.

*

Admiral-of-the-Fleets Lucas De Graaf gripped the arms of his flag chair hard as he used the datasphere to read the tactical data being thrown at him. The dreadnought VSS Thor’s Hammer was a huge warship, one of the biggest and best, a T-class ship-of-the-line, and flagship of the Vindicatus Mercenary Corporations First Fleet. Admiral Lucas De Graaf had not only been serving the Mercenary Lord since the beginning, but he was the overall commander of all the many hundreds of naval warships and assets.

said a damage control specialist calmly.

De Graaf commanded,

The House-designed battlecruiser began to lose control, its engines failing as directional thrusters mis-fired and the ship was thrown off-course.

Explosions blossomed all along the Cervantian battlecruiser’s hull, the Vindicatus dreadnought too close to launch torpedoes, but it still delivered missiles tipped with nuclear warheads and electro-magnetic pulse charges. Disruptor emitters sent their near-translucent beams directly into the upper and lower shields, stripping them away, as heavy-duty capital weaponry turbolasers bored thick, bright red, yellow and orange beams directly into the stricken ship. Magnetic Acceleration Cannons hurled projectiles into the rippling port hull of the battlecruiser, the heavy balls and long log-like munitions penetrating into the inner decks. Particle Acceleration Cannons exploited the damage, the sparkling blue-white PAC beams driving even deeper into the warship.

The Thor’s Hammer rolled, turning rapidly in space, the starboard batteries adjusting aim to continue the devastating, blistering hail of fire as the upper hull batteries began to fire. Turrets tracked the target, weaponry powerful enough to destroy cities raining more damage into upper shields. As the battlecruiser listed, exposing its upper shields, they failed with glittering pronouncements of their death.

The Cervantian battlecruiser began to lose power, as its primary engine suddenly detonated. Shields failed everywhere, the T-class Thor’s Hammer continuing to roll quickly, bringing strong shields to bear against the weak return fire from the battlecruiser. The hammering continued, secondary engines failing before the cascade meltdown was averted by the Cervantian engineers. With impending doom, the port broadside opened up, the hail of ferocious fire ripping into the ship.

As power failed the tertiary engine blew, and running lights all along the battlecruiser were extinguished. The listing battlecruiser began to shake and tremble as detonations from deep within began to rip through it, massive sections of bulkhead and decking flying off into space as the House-designed warship began its rapid disintegration.

announced a mission control specialist, satisfaction in her voice.

Admiral De Graaf announced,

Admiral Lucas De Graaf refocused his attention on the strategic holo-maps. he commanded a communications officer,

Lucas De Graaf narrowed his eyes. The situation was unexpected, and would doubtless cause issues for the Vindicatus nation’s relationship with the Cervantians, but ultimately, they were mercenaries and this had been a target system of their employer, House Vanquise.

They had jumped in, ready to begin their assault on what was supposed to be a small un-allied House nation wedged between the expanding territory of House Vanquise and House Cervantes. Several squadrons of First Fleet were tasked with clearing defences, allowing House Vanquise to bring their ground armies safely into the system to launch planetary assaults. Instead, De Graaf had found the El Bonillo System was already in the midst of an invasion, Cervantia having launched across their border into the system to take advantage of the distraction of House Vanquise’s rolling war to expand their territory.

The reaction of the Cervantians had been to fire upon the mercenary ships, which had been a mistake. Despite trying to stop the battle, De Graaf had been left with no option but to fight back. House Cervantes were an ally to Vindicatus in the Coalition of Mutual Defence, but they wanted this rich system for themselves, and the Vindicatus were not here in a national capacity but on a mercenary contract. Imperial Law had always stated that this meant Vindicatus ships were fair game, and although the Red Empire of Mars was dead, De Graaf knew that many nations the colonised galaxy over still observed that collapsing Imperial Law.

Nevertheless, De Graaf imagined Mercenary Lord Gavain would have to speak to the Cervantian Star Lord about the day’s events. House politics was fractious at best, and they did not want any more betrayals in the Coalition in favour of the Third Empire.

said the communications officer.

said Admiral-of-the-Fleets De Graaf.

The Thor’s Hammer dreadnought was leading the Second Main Squadron of First Fleet towards the system’s main planet, the five ships of the squadron engaging both the eight Cervantian House and Praetorian warships, as well as the disintegrating remains of the defending House ships the Cervantians had been hammering. First Vanguard Squadron, including the super-massive juggernaut Zero Tolerance, were engaging the remaining House ships and the Cervantian invaders around the second planet, whilst the Fifth Rearguard Squadron of the battlecruiser VSS Vengeance and its strikecruisers were darting around the third ringed planet and its many moons. The numerically superior Cervantian invaders had been suffering badly, and already had sustained major losses.

The Thor’s Hammer began engaging the destroyer, and a lightcruiser which was vainly trying to interpose itself between the Vindicatus dreadnought and its target. Droid transporters and a droid controlship were breaking orbit, moving away from the planet, abandoning the droids and drones they had dropped barely an hour before at the start of the Cervantian invasion.

In all spheres, De Graaf saw that his half-fleet of ships was prevailing. They had sustained damage, but the Cervantians were beginning to retreat. They should have surrendered the system, he thought. As the first jump signatures were detected of the House Vanquise invasion ships coming in-system, De Graaf ordered two of the strikecruisers to retreat, unwilling to let them suffer too heavily. He did not want to lose a single ship, and they had captured a battlecruiser, and two droid transporters. There would be more before the end of the day.

he sent the general order,

He received a series of affirmatives from his ship captains.

*

Field Marshal Ulrik Andryukhin looked at his adjutant, Major Naomi Calaman, who sat directly opposite him inside the strikepod. The X-class destroyer-transporter VSS Xenogenesis was one of the new, post-Dissolution Order warships, a hybrid multi-purpose ship-of-the-line carrying a full regiment and three battalions of Praetorian Guard Marines. One Marine was worth twenty normal House troops, and Field Marshal Ulrik Andryukhin had all three of his X-class ships in the Karagandy System.

He watched Naomi Calaman with his usual hint of amusement, her face unreadable through the visor of the sealed helmet she wore on her heavy duty Upgraded Praetorian armour.

he said, unable to resist baiting her.

As the rest of the squad laughed, all of a sudden, Admiral Danae Markos broke into the open comm-channel, addressing them all.

said Ulrik.

replied Admiral Delgado. <Monstrosity and Xenogenesis, launch! Launch! Launch!>

The Xenogenesis had been firing steadily down at the planetary surface of Karagandy Ultra-Major, pummelling the mega-city capital. The Krzarjic Free State wanted this star system back, returned to them from the Solomon Province’s advances. The Third Empire, through the Solomon Province, had begun to enslave the people, rolling their indoctrination technology out to the civilians. The shield generators protecting the capital city had been successfully destroyed, and now the Vindicatus Mercenary Corporation Marines were free to land on top of the enemy, in a city where even the populace would have turned hostile.

All of a sudden the X-class destroyer-transporter opened up with all its underhull batteries simultaneously, burning the atmosphere of the planet as turbolaser beam, PAC, MAC and plasmacannon shots roared down to the surface in a blinding storm, thermal bombs and nuclear warheads mounted on torpedoes flattening a large area of the mega-city right in its centre.

Strikepods were ejected, capable of travelling faster than torpedoes as they rocketed down in a second storm. Landers were launched, carrying the heavier vehicles, wave after wave descending towards the planet of Karagandy Ultra-Major.

The strikepod touched down, slamming into the ground with a heavy impact. More and more were falling all around it, but the exit ramps had already blown open, allowing the King Cobra hover armoured personnel carrier to whirl out with hum of blaring repulsors. Cobra HAPCs followed it, and atop the gun turret of the lead vehicle, Field Marshal Ulrik Andryukhin roared his pleasure.

Targeting scanners focused in on a battlewalker in the distance, falling out of the shattered boundary of the city, listing where it had been caught in the devastating orbital barrage. He focused the twin cannons on it, and sent a heavy blast of continuous laser beams with pinpoint accuracy into its weakened armour.

Andryukhin roared, as kilometres away, the power plant of the battlewalker lost containment and it went into destructive meltdown.

Thousands of Praetorian Guard Marines answered his jubilant declaration, with waves of gunfire of their own.

Chapter II

Captain Onwudiwe gripped the hand-rail as he floated along the external gantry of the space station. He had a body slightly running to fat, but his dark skin and good looks hid the extra weight extremely well. In what was close to a zero-gravity environment, it was even less noticeable.

As he floated along, pulling himself at a fair speed along the observation deck, he looked to his left. His ferry-ship, the SS Continental, was large and ungainly, built for purpose rather than beauty. The asymmetrical ferry-ship was designed to carry intra-stellar, non-jump capable ships through hyperspace. Docking ports, landing bays, magnetic locks, landing pads and all sorts of securing grips peppered the outer hull and inner workings of the behemoth.

Captain, said his Second Mate, Adebujoye, her voice ringing loud in the protective life-suit helmet he wore, Have you seen the news?

No, Ade, said Onwudiwe, I’m out in the asteroids docking hall, fool. What you expect me to see, except ships, you dolt.

Whoa, Captain, Adebujoye replied, voice crackling. With all the panicked activity out here in the cavernous docking hall of the hollowed-out asteroid, it was interfering with short-range communications. Alright. I was just saying, like. StarCom News Media is reporting that Third Empire ships launched another wave of invasions a couple of hours ago. Fifteen systems taken, another three gone quiet.

Onwudiwe reached the airlock, passing through into the chamber. The doors cycled shut, and he slapped the panel to re-pressurise the room. He braced himself to be pulled as normal gravity was artificially generated. We’re right on their invasion path, said Onwudiwe, have they blocked off our escape route to the east?

No, sir, but the First Mate is having a fit, saying he’ll have to recalculate the nav headings, like. Our journey just went longer, boss-man.

That does it, said Onwudiwe. If Third Empire run true to form, this’ll just be the first wave of this next series of invasions into the northern quadsphere. They’ll have broken into the Nord March by now, yes?

Yes, skipper. Nord March was hit.

Right. So we’re loading all the refugees here who want and can pay to leave, and we’re going. This system will be toast when the Third Empire get here, and they’ll only be two to four jumps away now.

I’ll post it up on the Interstellar Merchant Guilds’ Charter Office message-boards now, skip.

Good girl, sniffed Onwudiwe, the inner airlock doors cycling open. Heavily, he tramped through into the heaving promenade decking. Multi-levelled, it was full of refugees screaming, jostling for position. The system was being abandoned, civilians desperate to leave, but there were not enough ships. The Third Empire was coming, with their indoctrinating Slaver Switch implants, and they intended to enslave everybody who could not escape.

As Onwudiwe forced his way along the promenade, despite his tough exterior, the ferry-ship captain felt for the people. Most would be left behind, as the Third Empire rampaged through the system. The Third Empire was invading the entire northern quadsphere, unable to progress through the east to Mars after losing the First Shadow War and signing the Truce of Hardangervidda.

Nearly half a year ago, the Third Emperor had suddenly revealed that his Second Shadow War would no longer head along the eastern quadsphere towards the Core, but would gut the underbelly of the northern quadsphere, his unstoppable war-machine expanding outwards. He had ripped into the Mid-Sectors of the east, crossing into the north, determined to take as much land as he could. Systems were falling before the onslaught.

Onwudiwe would not charge the refugees if he could help it, but it was the only way. There were so many, he could not take them all. Other ships captains were following the same thinking as him, for a variety of motives ranging from opportunism to practical considerations. Those which were offering free travel had soon stopped, mobbed by the poor Epsilon- and Delta-class civilians who could not afford interstellar passage. Guardians of Commerce, Enforcers, Adjudicators and House military together had struggled to maintain order as rioting had broken out at the boarding berths for those ships captains foolish enough to offer free passage.

He cursed the Third Empire, this Shadow Emperor that ruled it, and Onwudiwe hated Him for what He was turning Onwudiwe into. The sobs and cries and pleading would live with him for a life-time, if they managed to escape the oncoming storm of the Third Empire’s massive invasion.

Captain Onwudiwe reached the temporary offices on the promenade that had been assigned by the Interstellar Merchants Guild to his crew. Guardians of Commerce stood outside, rifles cocked and ready to fire as they scanned the desperate crowd outside.

Onwudiwe stepped into the office, looking at the suspensor-desks where his crew were working feverishly to process the financial transactions, check travel-documents and sign-up the refugees before them. As a ferry-ship owner, Onwudiwe’s team were a target for those who had their own craft, so he automatically attracted the richer travellers. He wished he had a transporter or a mass conveyance, not a ferry-ship, so he could take the poorer people, but he did not. He had told his crew to give preferential rates to intra-stellar ships capable of carrying large complements of the poorer refugees, but to do it secretly, so they were not mobbed by the desperate. It was all he could do.

Captain, you got a moment? a First Crew Hand called out to him across the heaving office.

Yea, what is it lad? he asked, coming to a stop before the suspensor-desk. A metaglass window behind showed the interior of the asteroid’s docking hall, heaving with small craft as they desperately headed towards their berths in the larger interstellar jump-capable ships. It was pandemonium, and Onwudiwe had rarely seen the like.

These two are insisting on travel, but they have their own jump-capable ship. They have letters of marque, though, skipper.

Onwudiwe heard the question there, and he looked at the two. They were non-descript, but the fact they were carrying letters of marque betrayed that disguise for what it was. The man and the woman were augmented borgs, which made the un-augmented humanist Onwudiwe bristle. He read their letters of marque, issued by the IMG, which identified them as bounty-hunters. Their ship, the SS Brimstone, was jump-capable.

If you two metalfreaks have a ship capable of interstellar translation, why are you trying to book passage on my ferry-ship? Onwudiwe asked harshly.

Listen, fleshbag, replied the man, Our ship only has limited jumping capability. It can’t jump too far before needing to recharge, you dig? Your ferry-ship can get us clear of the Third Imperials.

Onwudiwe looked at the bank balance they were willing to transfer. It was worth another twenty ships’ passages, but he was not particularly in this for the money. We’re headed up and round the invading front, towards the east and further Boundary-wards, towards the Coalition of Mutual Defence’s Railway, said Onwudiwe. You’re willing to pay all that way?

We are, said the bounty hunter female.

Why?

That’s our business, said the male. If you don’t want our business, we’ll take our money elsewhere.

Whoa, hang on, tin-heads, said Onwudiwe. With what they were paying, it would more than cover berths for a large number of Delta-class refugees. As a Delta-class himself, Onwudiwe found that appealed to him. He did not believe these bounty hunters were not up to something nefarious, but then they were scum typically. Okay, look, I won’t ask any questions. Get your little ship onto my ferry, and be quick about it. Crew Hand, sign them on, you got me?

Yes, boss-man, said the First Crew Hand.

Aboard the SS Brimstone, in the small, cramped flight deck, the male and the female bounty hunters were strapped into their jump-seats. The dart-like ship was coasting along, heading towards the SS Continental, being directed by the Chief Officer of the ship’s orders to dock in the second third of the upper hull.

said Angelsface.

replied Devilsface.

Angelsface and Devilsface, both strapped in, began to transform. Black synth-skin suits revealed themselves, stripping away the fake clothing they wore, as their bodies cracked and changed. Flesh ran, their features blurring as bone structure metamorphosed into new shapes. Their eyes went to black, hollow sockets, nose-less faces displaying above almost identical thin lipless mouths. The only way of telling the difference between the two Faceless Assassins was that one had an affectation, two small horns extended from just above where the temples would be on a normal being. They were far from human or normal, cybernetic biomorphs created solely for the purpose of infiltration and murder. They were renegades, each with their own reason for wanting revenge on the people who had created them.

Angelsface said.

said the older Faceless Assassin, Devilsface.

*

The Mercenary Lord James Gavain entered one of the operations rooms off the bridge of the VSS Vindicator battlecruiser, the ops room turned into a holographic representation of the Heart Palace’s Cabinet Office. Using continuous beam hyperpulse communications links, holographic representations of his senior governmental and military figures were all present with one notable exception. The chatter they had between them went quiet, all standing as they slammed their right fists into the left-side of their chests, extending the arms out fully at an angle with the palms open in the old-fashioned Imperial Salute.

Mercenary Lord James Gavain was not a remarkable-looking man in himself, although his clothing, reputation and the reactions of the others marked his sheer dominance of the room. His short hazel brown hair was light in some places, dark in others, running to thinness. His eyes were a penetrating steely grey, calm and intimidating, the formidable ice blue coloration missing for now. There was a military cut to the noble clothing he wore, an Imperial-style high collar and long cape modelled on the Praetorian Guard red-and-black uniform. As he sat, he shifted the cape that was slanted over his right shoulder, the material gently pulling at the diagonal cut of the black across the padded and armoured red jacket. There were many different shades of red within the material, from crimson at the top to a lighter but still deep shade of red at the bottom. His government and military were all dressed similarly, although those on active operations wore purely military attire.

Be seated, the free-thinking Lord Gavain spoke quietly, his people doing as he commanded. We have much to cover. He spoke aloud, rather than using the datasphere connection accessed by his borg mind augmentations, because some of his people were humanists. Humanists, borgites, and free-thinkers were all welcome in his Vindicatus nation, and he did not tolerate any form of discrimination. It was partly that which made so many people flock to his landholding, desperate to escape whatever form of intolerance they faced as the colonised galaxy tore itself apart.

Is Field Marshal Andryukhin not joining us, Jamie? asked Admiral Harley Andersson, long-term pre-Dissolution Order friend of James Gavain and also his Solar High Chancellor, responsible for the military defence and the government that ran all their home systems.

A major operation commenced earlier this morning in the north, Krzarjic Free State attempting to re-take landholdings they have lost to Solomon Province, Gavain replied. He will not be joining us. Admiral Markos will cover his report. His people all nodded their understanding. Let us keep this to the point, as these conferences are not cheap. Contract progress first. Commodore Bramhall, you have the floor.

Thank you, James, said Bramhall. He had grown closer to the Mercenary Lord, partly thanks to his outstanding efforts at expanding the territory of the Vindicatus nation, and was one of the permitted few who used his first name commonly. As Bramhall stood, a holographic display projected into the centre of the room, diagrams showing the movements of his forces.

Our open-ended contract in the south continues to prove to be lucrative. We took additional salvage, civilian ships carrying military equipment, two Standard days ago. I’m having them flown back through StarCom Federation space, to the CMD Railway for transportation directly to Dark Heart for refit and repair. The StarCom Federation are pleased with our efforts against the League of Suularitsaar, but indications are that war is brewing again.

The situation in the south is almost as dire as in the north, interjected Admiral O’Connor, in charge of their security services and intelligence operation. League of Suularitsaar are possibly heading for their fourth outbreak of hostilities against the Federation, whilst the Nacrimosa Collective are literally on the doorstep of both the Federation and the League. The entire area is a powder keg, waiting for one of them to make a false move or launch an attack.

Fear may keep them all in check, said Andersson. The first of the three to move against a second exposes themselves to the third.

The situation is tender, Commodore Bramhall nodded. We’re being very careful. We have encountered Suularitsaar privateers in Federation space, raiding across the border, although no Nacrimosans as of yet. The Collective are outside the parameters of our contract, being a concern for the President of the Federation.

The contract is clear, Lord Gavain waved a hand dismissively. As lucrative as we are finding it – and thank you for your fleets’ contribution to the treasury, Commodore Bramhall – as soon as the Federation engages in open war with the League of Suularitsaar, or the Nacrimosan Collective, our contract ends. Then you disengage, head to the CMD Railway of interlinked starterminals, and return to the Dark Heart Artificial System.

Of course, Jamie, nodded Bramhall.

Good. Gavain then focused on the Admiral-of-the-Fleets, the overall commander of all his naval assets. Lucas, you have the floor.

Thank you, Jamie, said Lucas De Graaf, his image taking centre-stage. A holographic projection showed his sphere of operations, just to the south of the Gulf of Medusa, the Vindicatus Nation and the Eastern Segment.

The House Vanquise contract is nearing completion, said Lucas De Graaf. We are perhaps only three to four weeks away from finalisation, but then we started before the other two active contracts. House Vanquise have now expanded their landholding from the south and west of the Levitican Union, to the east of Cervantia. We only have some minor systems to take, and then we have done as the House Vanquise of the new Primacy of Vanquista wanted.

The Primacy of Vanquista, scoffed Admiral Andersson. The Lord and Lady of House Vanquise have never had too strong a grip on reality. The rumours about the Mad Lord stick even today.

The Primacy is reaching out across the galaxy for recognition, said the Head of the Ambassadorial Service, the illegitimate bastard of House Van Der Meer. Mathis Van Der Meer held a number of ranks and titles, which included command of the Sixth Home Fleet and Solar Administration Chancellor of the Praetor System, as well as now being responsible for co-ordinating their above-board activities in other political spheres around the galaxy. House Vanquise have with our bought and not inexpensive help formed their own nation, as we always knew they intended to do. They have approached us formally, for a non-aggression pact.

Which we must sign, said Lord Gavain. I do not want the new powerhouse which House Vanquise will become, threatening the Levitican Union or Vindicatus.

What was the outcome of your discussion with the Star Lord Cervantes, Jamie? Lucas De Graaf asked. For those that don’t know, yesterday we ended up engaging Cervantian ships in an unaligned House system. A number of expressions of disbelief and concern flooded out at De Graaf’s statement.

Star Lord Carlos Cervantes was not pleased, Gavain replied, his typically impassive face remaining as stoic as ever. But he accepted the situation. The engagement was a mistake, and led by over-zealous people in his own military. I suspect he is not happy with us, but I care not. They fired on us. The Coalition of Mutual Defence remains intact, and I have warned him not to try extending Cervantian influence into the landholding that House Vanquise intends to take.

Which in itself has only helped our dealings with the Primacy of Vanquista, pointed out Mathis Van Der Meer.

Admiral Markos, Gavain did not even acknowledge the point, moving the discussion on. The Krzarjic Free State contract?

Up here in the north, Admiral Danae Markos began, the atmosphere is tense. News media are full of speculation on the invading Third Empire forces that are ripping through the northern quadsphere. Krzarjic Free State has held its own against the Third Empire allied Solomon Province, but they have lost land. We helped the push-back yesterday, moving finally from defence to offense. We invaded three systems, but the fighting is fierce in two of the three and on the ground in each instance. I also fear the push-back has come very late in the day for the Krzarjics. My concern is that without doubt in two to three months’ time, the wave of invading Third Empire forces will reach us. The reinforcements could roll right over us, and we will be forced into retreat if they target the area.

As important as the Mid-Sectors are, O’Connor said, the bigger prize lies further eastwards in the north, the Apostolov Sovereignity and the Unified Houses of Tenanbaum. The bigger challenge for the Third Empire, as well. They will not be able to devote as much resources to the invasion of Krzarjic as we initially thought, as analysis of their advance shows they are moving on a fairly uniform, all-encompassing front. They are going for coverage of landholdings in this Second Shadow War, rather than the blitzkrieg of a targeted push like they did in the First Shadow War.

We still cannot make any assumptions, Lord Gavain shook his head. The true objectives of the Third Emperor are yet to be revealed, I am sure of it. Why they push to the north, away from Mars, rather than just break the Truce of Hardangervidda I do not know. I still suspect there is something in all of this that we do not see.

I agree with James, said Harley Andersson. There is something they want there, and I am not sure it is either Krzarjic, Solomon, Apostolov, or Tenanbaum. There is something we are missing.

I will re-double efforts to try and discover, said O’Connor, but it is difficult. Indoctrination makes it near to impossible for information to leak out of conquered Third Empire territory. We may have to begin more active missions, Jamie.

Do so, ordered Lord Gavain. We must discover what the Third Emperor intends for the north, at all costs.

Coming back to Krzarjic, Admiral Markos interrupted, we can prosecute the contract up here, until the Third Empire arrives. Maybe beyond that, if they do not arrive in significant numbers. But …. Will we receive reinforcements?

Gavain hesitated, then nodded his head. Yes, Admiral Markos, you will. I am sending the Eleventh and Twelfth Fleets up to your position. He noted that Markos suddenly looked relieved. They will arrive after the Third Empire hits Krzarjic, but only with a few days or weeks difference. I am loathe to commit the forces, as we will not be paid any more, and the north is distant enough that we cannot pull the fleets back if they are needed here in the east or in the Core. But instinct warns me to resist the Third Empire in this northern push, and with the Apostolov and Tenanbaum alliance fighting them in one part of the north, and us and the Krzarjic in another, we might bring them at least to a halt.

With the Thirteenth Fleet at completion we have sufficient reserves here in the east, Admiral De Graaf spoke. The Fourteenth and Fifteenth Fleets are expanding rapidly as well, with our salvage activities and construction programme.

The risk is there, but it can be taken, confirmed Lord Gavain. He changed the display, so that all saw an overview of the colonised galaxy. A line highlighted the Railway, the linked starterminals which from the Frontier up to the Jacknife Defence Line within Third Empire territory. Another line highlighted the parallel course of the CMD Railway, using the same, copied starterminal technology which allowed a ship to travel in an eye-blink across the opposing space that Gavain and his allied nations used.

You’re looking at the two Railways, of linked starterminals, using the advanced stargate technology, Gavain said. The CMD Railway now stretches all the way to Sol, meaning the OutWorlds Alliance, Calamarite Confederacy, the nations here in the Eastern Segment, and the StarCom Federation can all send support to each other on extremely short notice. We have made history, in copying the tech that the Third Empire used in the First Shadow War. Admiral O’Connor, if you could explain what you have uncovered?

Jonathon O’Connor took the floor. We have received new intelligence, from refugees escaping out of territory conquered by the Third Empire before they have been indoctrinated. The Third Empire are building a new Railway, a northern branch heading up through the Mid-Sectors into the north, just behind their advancing line.

That is only to be expected, Andersson interrupted. They have to for sheer logistics.

True, O’Connor conceded. What worries us is that we do not have a clear indication on where it is heading. Amongst other things, we will focus on trying to discover where they are building it, and what their destination is. I am tasking new teams to go deep undercover in Third Empire territory, in breach of the Truce of Hardangervidda, to try and discern where it is heading.

That is dangerous, commented the Administrator for Justice, Law and Security, Kemal Erdogan. He was Consort to the Queen Erdogan, Lady of House Erdogan and the nation state that the Zhou-Zheng Compact had destroyed. Many of the refugees in Vindicatus territory were former Erdoganites. If they are detected, we risk breaking the Truce. We still have three and a half years of the Truce left to run.

If they are detected, O’Connor replied, they will self-terminate. But we must discover what the Third Empire intend with this second Railway in their territory.

I consent to the operation, Lord Gavain said. We are, after all, already playing fast and loose with the treaty. The Third Empire has sent Faceless Assassins against us and our allies, and only the close protection teams we have protecting the nobles have prevented a successful assassination attempt. We are running our own covert operation, using House Vanquise’s Vanquistadorean criminal syndicate to break the indoctrination of the enslaved people here in the east. We are extending operations all the way up to Mars Shadow and the Constantin System as I speak. Both of us are breaking the Truce already.

Assassins were allowed, as were smugglers, Kemal Erdogan shook his head. Active military teams are not. The Truce of Hardangervidda is very clearly worded. No starship belonging to a military unit of either side can cross the truce-lines of the Jacknife Defence Line or the Helvanna Offensive Line, or progress any further corewards towards Sol or any further Frontier-wards into Third Empire space. Detection of a military ship-of-the-line crossing the truce-lines will result in war.

Well, rather than building for war in the five years of peace, the Third Emperor seems to have launched a new one in the north, behind the truce-lines, pointed out Andersson.

Precisely why I want to know why he is not conserving his forces, and is expending them in prosecuting this Second Shadow War, Gavain ground out. We are missing something.

The Coalition of Mutual Defence stands ready to resist, the Ambassador Van Der Meer spoke, but the situation is volatile. The Calamarite Confederacy were fair-weather friends, the OutWorlds Alliance is as likely to use the CMD Railway to invade the StarCom Federation as to support it. The Federation is on a knife’s edge, about to face a three-way war with the Suularitsaar and the Nacrimosans. Even here, in the Eastern Segment, the Levitican Union faces upheaval with the new elections about to take place.

It does not bode well, said Gavain. I have not been as involved in the Union politics as I should have been, something I intend to correct. We are a part of the Levitican Union, but I will not tolerate a House which is more hostile to us providing the Lord or Lady Principal of the Union. I think the Third Empire are destabilising the Federation through their Luminos organisation, like they did here with the Rosicrux, and I am sure they intend to capitalise on any change in the political scene of the Levitican Union.

Do you mean we would withdraw from the Union? asked Harley Andersson.

If it became necessary, Gavain said, but then waved the point away. Let us deal with what we can, when we can, however. Now, before I declare this conference at an end, the Administrator for Treasury and Trade, Ebru Erdogan, must have the floor. Our situation has improved, but we are still within two and a half months of financial collapse, dependent on Levitican Union money as well as our own contract-work it seems, yet we must continue to build the war machine. Administrator Ebru Erdogan?

Well, said Ebru Erdogan, "the situation is