Overthrown

By Ryan Viergutz

Three rivals in an empire make desperate choices to repel an alien invasion.

In the wake of the Siege of Alveolar, the Istevor Diamond has failed. Freed from their prisons, the giant insectile Chosen overrun multiple sectors of the Aura Empire. In order to hold them back, or inflict a decisive blow that will show the strength of humanity, Vespasian Shiraan must protect the woman who might hold all the answers and finally make his play for the throne that he has held off until the right moment.

Duke Caspian Acratani claims to have communion with the Chosen and a beneficial, though temporary, alliance. While he goes steadily mad from the voice in his head, Deirdre Istevor, part of the most powerful House in the Empire, keeps a steady eye on him. If he still has some sanity she will find it. She believes she's playing him, but she may be wrong.

Amid this minefield of schemes, Rochelle Sarakshi, lieutenant in Vespasian's special op squad, explores an old mystery from her brother's past which provides answers to the Chosen's rulers, and a weapon hidden away years ago by a traitor. When a maze of flesh reveals the weapon's hiding place, the Imperials must make a decision that will ripple throughout their lives: do they wield the weapon, or do they destroy it?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ryan Viergutz
• Release date: Oct 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370770366

Ryan Viergutz

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

Book preview

Chapter 1

They're regathering their forces, Rochelle Sarakshi said. They're planning to break free.

Almost a month ago, a new weapon had trapped an army of a thousand giant insects in tiny, crystalline cells littered across the Alveolar sector. Colored with deathly pallors instead of glowing hues like the wormholes that provided transit among the Empire, the cells held the insects, called the Chosen, tighter by the day. The Chosen's mandibles, stingers and antennae pressed against the outlines of the cells like flies behind a petri dish.

Vespasian Shiraan, prince of the Aura Empire and commander of the Shadow Daggers squadron, leaned down behind Rochelle and looked at the monitor. They're still sending more through to the Diamond. At this rate it won't hold longer than a day at the most.

Vespasian, Rochelle and their sometimes-ally Deirdre Istevor had studied the cells from their formation. The Chosen had discovered early on that they could send reinforcements through to the Stasis Diamond, even though they couldn't advance, and ended up paralyzed like their allies. The confines looked cramped and unpleasant. He pitied any entomophobic people who looked at the Diamond; hundreds of eyes stared out of the cells, glazed and pale.

Rochelle glanced up at Vespasian. Mischief glittered in her gray eyes. Maybe we'll get lucky. Maybe the Diamond will keep expanding around them. She looked at the monitor again. Maybe they'll send out millions more soldiers and consume the sector. She curled her hands behind her head and sighed. It's possible, if unlikely. Deirdre's research has said that much.

Rochelle paused, as she frequently did, tamping down her impulses to quote the holy books, whether the Uproarious, Aftermath, or a more esoteric source. These aliens had attacked the galaxy three hundred years ago and the sacred books spoke of their arrival in myth and mystery. They tended to attract controversy since they spoke of a bloody genocide and apocalyptic war.

But I don't believe that, Vespasian said. Sooner rather than later, according to these readouts, they will break free, with an army that dwarfs the one they sent before.

We've seen some of their cities, Rochelle said. They refer to their home as the Hellstorm. It doesn't sound too welcoming, really. It's no wonder they want to escape it.

Vespasian stood straighter, crossed his arms and kept his eyes focused on the readouts that scrolled down the screens. Although they had made few manned excursions to the sector, automated mecha sent out their reports, loaded with the area, expansion rate, decay rate of the Chosen and the Diamond and other technical data. None of it looked hopeful to him. It felt like the Chosen had a knife pressed to the Empire's neck.

We know nearly nothing about them, Vespasian said. They've assaulted us for two years now, and still we have learned nothing about our enemies. I'm reluctant to speculate because it doesn't seem like it would help at all.

Rochelle sighed, turned around and smiled at him. She looked weary and stressed, her bright red hair tangled with sweat, her black uniform drooping and dirty. That's why I've studied the books. We need any advantage we can get. And since I'm not talking to Sasha any more, it's the only option we have at the moment.

Books shrouded in metaphor, Vespasian said.

Isn't that the nature of sacred books? Rochelle said. You can put your own interpretation and comprehension into them, forming your own opinion. She pushed the chair around to face him. I've been giving that some thought, in fact.

Vespasian sat in another chair, a green target flickering across the chest of his own uniform. Go on. It's not like we aren't in a holding pattern.

Rochelle leaned forward, right hand grasping her knee. She had a desperate, feverish look in her eyes. Months ago, it might have worried him, when Sasha tried to worm himself into her imagination. Now, he recognized it as a sign of her familiar creativity, when an idea struck her and would not let up on its hold. Why are they considered sacred, Vespasian?

Because people think God wrote them? Vespasian said.

No God literally wrote a book, Rochelle said. Someone like you or me did. Then... her fingers danced through the air... hundreds of years pass by and people interpret the visions, write their own versions of the prophecies. What's the truth behind it? How do we know?

You still want to hunt down the orphanage, Vespasian said.

Rochelle nodded. What if there's something there? Like an original fragment?

Rochelle's older brother, Sasha Sarakshi, grew up seeing visions of an apocalyptic time when monsters and demons would rise, an eerie reflection of their current reality. His parents had cast him out, afraid of him, and sent him to an orphanage on an asteroid. In his years there, he had formed a cult that centered on the Chosen. He had summoned one of them two years ago, many more of them three months ago, and then suddenly disappeared.

There's no time, Vespasian said. If the Diamond snapped open, I'd need all of you here. Do you have any leads on finding it?

I know the name, Station Thachani. I haven't found any records on it whatsoever. Rochelle shook her head and scowled. It feels like a cover-up.

Who would hide it? Vespasian said. Who would know?

The door to the monitoring room slid open, the steel struts grating and snapping into the external wall. Vespasian looked up to see his mother, Empress Katarina Shiraan, enter the room with the wariness she'd exhibited more and more in the past few years. Since he'd learned dark secrets about her reign, their relationship had become strained. She had a thin smile for him, full of anxiety. He wondered how much she had heard. He felt a pang of sadness about his paranoia of his own mother.

Even the Empress's wardrobe reflected the mood of the Aura Empire and the possibility of alien invasion. She wore a white silk blouse but he could see the sharp edges of body armor beneath it. Her gown's skirt didn't touch the floor to give her more movement in the case of assassination attempts or military maneuvers. She wore a braided crown of her light purple hair around her forehead, the method she often used in place of a traditional crown. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered if it represented a discomfort with power, whether she hadn't truly ever wanted the throne.

Someone's hiding something? Katarina said. Bring me up to speed, my Daggers.

Vespasian exchanged a quick glance with Rochelle that asked the imminent question. Rochelle smiled and twitched a shoulder in a shrug.

Who would hide the orphanage? Vespasian said. You know which one I mean.

Maybe Sasha himself? the Empress said.

Rochelle nodded. She leaned her chin on her hand and gloomily stared at the monitor. I've thought about that. He might want to hide his past, especially to keep his sense of mystery. She wobbled her other hand in exaggeration. Unfortunately, if we follow that reasoning, he won't be forthcoming even to us. I would love to find a way myself but at the time being we have bigger priorities. She pointed at the screen.

Katarina stepped behind Rochelle and studied the screen. Any progress? I don't see any changes, but this isn't my specialty. She sighed. We're still on the brink of riots, especially in Istevor's sectors. Caspian keeps his people in line with a harsher hand than either Giovanni or me... every day my hunch grows stronger.

Vespasian felt his stomach twist. You recognize his methods?

Katarina looked at Vespasian, her eyes like pits full of agonizing memories. Of course I remember. When the Triumvirate held the throne of the Empire, Dominic sometimes would refer to Warlord Charuss and his constant cruelty toward his people. 'Keep them in line with suffering,' he'd say. 'Give them enough rope to hang themselves and none to use on you'. Katarina shook her head. Caspian's growing more like that every day. It saddens and sickens me.

Rochelle sighed and scratched at the surface of the monitor table. Even if we succeed and the Chosen flee from us, we'll have to repair the Empire. It's been broken as long as we've been alive.

Katarina crossed her arms and shook her head. No, that's my business. Concern yourself with the preparations against the Chosen, Caspian's erratic behavior and the chance for other wormhole outbreaks. We can't allow the Chosen to have another beachhead. We're lucky we haven't spotted another outside of the Diamond since we built it.

Maybe they know... Vespasian scrolled through the display on the screen. Maybe there's a reason for that, Mother. What if they know that it can only hold a limited capacity?

We've debated that already, Rochelle said. I think you might be right. Look.

Rochelle pointed to the readouts of the surface area, internal chemistry and pressure stresses on the Diamond's structure. He'd seen the gradual changes in them during the last few weeks but her focus on those segments primed his attention. When he looked closely they implied accelerating decay. Rochelle looked up at him, searching his eyes, and dialed back the stats to compare the last month's worth of information.

For the last month, the decay had grown slowly. In the last week, it had taken a quick uptick, the stresses on the material pushing it out and loosening it. He could feel the tension in his muscles and gripped the back of Rochelle's chair. Rochelle hunched before the screen, the lights playing on her face and darkening her red hair. He'd exaggerated and he'd been right. The Diamond would shatter in a day or two. It wouldn't last three.

Vespasian pulled himself straighter, his hands shaking. He crossed his arms and cleared his throat. Empress, we have to convene a war council. Lieutenant Sarakshi has uncovered the truth: the Diamond will not last another three days. The Chosen will surge into the Empire with greater, possibly unprecedented numbers. And there is another possibility... that without the intact Diamond, the Chosen may reappear in other sectors.

Can we learn how they appear or how they've mounted their invasion? Katarina said.

Rochelle spun her chair to face the Empress. I believe we have no other option. To stop them completely we have to understand them. She leaned forward. I think we have a place to start. Before the tunnel to Wykakath fades we can study it.

How do you intend to do that? the Empress said. Caspian has Cayarist locked down tight.

Rochelle smiled. We're a strike team. We can handle a simple in-and-out mission.

Katarina squinted at Rochelle. Bring it up at the war council. She nodded to Vespasian. I will summon one. Giovanni will have to send an ambassador... he's heavily involved in his home sectors.

Caspian won't come, Vespasian said.

Katarina shook her head with a thin-lipped scowl. We can expect him to hinder us from this point forward.

He might assault the Chosen from the west of the Diamond, Vespasian said.

We can't count on that, Katarina said. Save it for the council.

Vespasian nodded. I'll make preparations to ship out for Rechatu.

Katarina eyed him. I'd expect you to go to Manokoras.

The Chosen will invade from every possible direction, Vespasian said. Alveolar has three exit gates.

As long as it lasts, anyway, Katarina said.

Vespasian nodded. This time, they will destroy sectors. We have to be ready for that.

Katarina set her jaw and looked at the screen. We're not, Vespasian. I don't know what will happen when they break free but people will die. No matter what we do now, hundreds of thousands of people will die. I promise you this, though. I will save as many people as I can. The Empire will survive. The Empress looked slowly at Vespasian then Rochelle. I need you to trust me. Without you at my side, I cannot be sure even of that much.

We are at your service, Empress, Rochelle said.

Vespasian nodded. The Empress knew as well as himself that he didn't trust her. The Daggers would follow her orders up until the point that she proved them wrong. She came closer to that all the time. For all of her talk about salvation and rescue, he had not forgotten how she'd marched on the Core and left him to battle the Chosen army. They didn't share the same priorities.

I will do what I can, Vespasian said. The same as I ever have.

Chapter 2

A steady stream of prophecies fed into Caspian Acratani's mind from a cranial implant. He'd collected an assortment of warnings, suggestions and hints in the past few months from the revived head of the Warlord. They sounded like combinations of the sacred books, in a translation from hundreds of years ago, and the scientific knowledge of that era. Caspian had a long way to go in deciphering the Warlord's urgings, but at the same time he'd replaced a lot of gaps in his own theories.

A case in point, his manipulation of citizenry. Caspian had often tested the opinions of his people through a handhold on their media. At times he'd branched out to the larger Empire. Whenever the Imperial military mecha caused mass destruction he had solid opportunities to practice those lessons. Thank to the Warlord in his head and the Stasis Diamond bordering on his territory, he had swayed the opinions of his people with ease.

The result led to his army doubling in size, his fleet adding twelve more starships, and a population determined to fight back against the invaders. Careful priming, putting his people to a glittering point of tension, associated the Chosen with the Core. Many people called to his cause, in his sectors, would not distinguish between the invaders and the Usurper. When his forces struck, they would swamp the Empire and put him in his rightful place.

Beside him, on the catwalk overlooking one of four new hangars in Cayarist sector, Deirdre Istevor stood with an awed though troubled expression. He'd built this one specifically to show visitors... none of the four shared most of their layouts, sizes or structures, resisting corporate espionage. As often as he'd consulted her in matters of business and war, he didn't fully trust her. She had more going on than most people in the Empire, personally and professionally.

Deirdre turned her narrow, blue-eyed gaze on him. When do you launch your fleet? It's truly gigantic, growing by the day. Your people must be growing impatient.

Caspian smiled at her. As soon as the Diamond cracks, we will assault it. He looked at the sweep of a fragment of his fleet, the losses in the first wave of the Chosen invasion already replenished. He had made sacrifices. He would make more. My men need to be blooded in combat. They are still untested in war. He squinted at Deirdre, his smile thin. Thankfully our Houses have not attacked each other in some time.

Deirdre kept her gaze targeted below them on the hangar. Her demeanor, as it usually did, had an air of strict business and the desire for profit. She rarely showed weakness or uncertainty, even in her crisp light grey suit. She was shorter than him, as tall as his chin, but he always felt her to be his equal and, at times, his better. When will you retrieve Ethrus?

I do not need her any longer, Caspian said.

Wasn't she your best Vessel? Deirdre said.

She had grown unruly, Caspian said. Make no mistake, I will not allow Vespasian to have her. But I do not need her either.

Who will you send to do it?

You do not need to know that. Speculate as you wish.

Deirdre laughed softly. Who else would you send but the other vessels? No one else could stand against her, even in her weakened state. She twirled a hand in the air, a gesture she did when she concentrated. From what you've told me, she could contribute to her own destruction.

It's possible, Caspian said.

Deirdre leaned delicately on the railing and looked up at him. You haven't ceased the project. You've prepared others... lined them up, I imagine, in the case of this eventuality. Who have you prepped for the surgery, I wonder? Who will you put in the crosshairs of the Chosen?

Caspian gestured widely, encompassing the hangar. We are all in their crosshairs. The Chosen will not stop until they enslave or exterminate us. I will not accept either of those scenarios. So I will use every tool at my disposal to destroy them first. You know as well as I that we need their power. If I could turn every person in this galaxy into a Vessel, I would.

Why haven't you turned yourself? Deirdre said. What makes you more important?

You already know the answer to that question, Caspian said. What's gotten into you, Deirdre?

Deirdre flexed her grip on the handrailing. I share your impatience. We're in an urgent situation. However, I have limits. I do not want to become one of the monsters we're fighting.

Instead you would use their technology, Caspian said.

I'd use their external technology, Deirdre said. I won't put it into myself. Can't you see the difference?

Caspian sighed and rubbed his right temple. The Warlord hissed another prophecy to him, about slimy grey men, the scorpions among the Chosen and wormholes painted with blood. It didn't make much sense. Of course I know the difference. More importantly I'm glad we don't stand at an impasse. When I send my fleet into opposing sectors, I will need you to remain neutral.

Deirdre grinned. You're ruthless, unrelenting and sacrifice whoever and whatever it takes. I can respect that. I may not like you, Caspian, but I need you like you need me.

Caspian's comm to his lead technician suddenly beeped in his skull. He frowned, listened to the report and sighed. On the subject, I have to attend to the project. You can look around if you wish. I'll be back sometime later.

Deirdre grinned wearily, nodding in understanding. My father sent me a message before I came here. I should be going myself. I wish you luck in your endeavours, Caspian.

Caspian nodded and bowed at the waist. The same to you, Deirdre. I look forward to fighting beside you on the field of battle. Once they had parted ways, and Caspian had entered the elevator to the ground floor of the hangar, he questioned the lead tech. Tell me everything that has transpired.

Since we injected him with the new cocktail this morning, Capillary has shown immense progress. He has reacted well to it and I think you can soon bring him to the battlefield, the lead tech said.

Excellent! Caspian said. I may have another candidate for the project as well. He thought of Deirdre and Rochelle, who would make great candidates in their own right, if they would ever agree to the idea. I'm heading there now.

Approach him with caution, the lead tech said. He's still new to the cocktail so he is volatile. Alanis is already there with him.

Caspian scoffed and shook his head. The elevator ground through the five sublevels, groaning and sputtering while it descended down through the earth. I attached his vessel four months ago. He should have adjusted himself to it by now. The cocktail will assist in his pacification if the need presents. Unless you haven't told me all of the details.

I have told you all of the pertinent and immediate information, the tech said. I reiterate, sir, he is volatile, and his emotions are boiling over. At times he can move from deep anger to sadness.

Does he have his vessel powers active yet? Caspian said.

If he had, sir, I would have said so, the tech said. We have not registered power activity yet.

It should have happened around this time, gauging by the others, Caspian said. Alanis manifested when she'd worn her vessel for a little more than four months.

The tech sighed. We have analyzed the manifestation times, sir.

Yes, I know that, Caspian said.

The elevator reverberated and landed on the bottom floor.

I'm here. Keep the monitoring active, Caspian said.

In the experimentation floor, Salvatore bounded around behind a steel wall with bulletproof glass openings larger than they'd find in a prison cell. The Chosen had learned to possess the vessels in a close proximity so Caspian had the cells built to protect his subjects. He rarely left them alone, and the quarters had lush, upscale luxury, to mitigate the sense of prison. Alanis often spent time with Salvatore, as she did now.

Caspian cycled through the lock and entered the cell. He found them involved in a game of chess, Salvatore having the upper hand with half a dozen pieces up on Alanis and a stronger board position. They looked up at him warily. They gave him the sense that he'd stumbled onto a pair of aliens and in a way he had. While they both trusted him, their anxiety had grown since the Diamond formed. They'd said to him many times they could feel the pressure of the vessel inside their bodies.

Caspian took one of two other chairs in the room and pulled it closer. You've improved? he said to Salvatore. I believe your powers will manifest in days, a week at the most.

Salvatore Acratani, once heir to the House and now a defender of its name, looked at Caspian without speaking. He had once had a toned physique, well muscled and trained into a great soldier rising in the Acratani Royal Fleet. While he still held much of his strength, the weariness on his face belied it. His face looked ten years past his age, his blue eyes haunted and his skin pulled taut and dry. He didn't look as terrible as Mistrala had, but he looked drained.

Why does it hurt so much? Salvatore said.

Caspian smiled consolingly. You wear the vessel at a dangerous time. You are strong, though. You can resist the Chosen's call.

Alanis Lithmeri, one of the longest-lasting vessel specialists in all of his attempts, turned to Caspian. She looked closer to her age than Salvatore, her skin less dry but more unsettling and artificial in its health. Unlike Salvatore, she had a regimen of skin treatments, moisturizing and massages. The pressure did weigh on her, though. More than any of the others in the history of the project, she had reached a plateau in her relation to the vessel.

It will take time. Don't push him, Alanis said.

We don't have time, Caspian said. The Chosen could break through any day.

You can't believe that, Alanis said.

It could happen, Caspian said.

Alanis sighed and shook her head. Her braids danced over her shoulders. She moved a piece and captured one of Salvatore's bishops. Bring some better news for once, sir.

I came to ask about better news, Caspian said. Namely Salvatore's burgeoning manifestations.

Salvatore moved a piece without looking at the chessboard and looked at Caspian. He kept his face immobile and his eyes trained on him for long enough that it made Caspian feel uncomfortable. Caspian activated his cybernetic eye and biometric symbols appeared across Salvatore's person. He looked as healthy as could be expected, though tense and nervous. His heart raced faster than usual. His glands looked enlarged, sending out heavier amounts of biochemicals.

Salvatore, stay in control, Caspian said. I know what's happening to you.

Alanis stared at Salvatore. She slid the chair back, scraping the floor, and sat forward in a battle stance.

You're stronger than the vessel, Caspian said. Harness it.

You remember what happened when I manifested, Alanis said softly.

Caspian kept the vital signs monitor on Salvatore. The soldier kept his eyes locked on his commander, his forehead covered with sweat. Though he could only see it with his artificial eye, Caspian saw the vessels attached to Salvatore's chest swim and contort, moving in and out, faster and faster. Tell me what you feel. I want to help you.

I will show you, Salvatore said.

He'd felt the pressure of powers reaching manifestation more than a dozen times. Half of those times it had killed the soldier behind them. It never felt any simpler and the fear of death always chased the sensation. Claws reached at his skull, garrote wires tightened around his wrists and ankles. He closed his eyes, remembering the sensory deprivation tank routines he'd practiced every day to lessen the impact. The pressure slid to a halt and finally ceased.

Before he opened his eyes, he heard Alanis leap out of her chair and tackle Salvatore to the floor. Caspian barked an order to her but she'd already spun him face first and wrenched handcuffs around Salvatore's wrists. She sat on his back, panting. The biometric display said nothing more than the heightened senses and adrenaline of battle.

Distress, what happened? Caspian said.

He attacked you, commander, Alanis said. I restrained him.

I defended myself, Caspian said.

All the same, Alanis said. It isn't safe for you to be here right now.

Caspian glowered at her. I have witnessed and survived more manifestations than this. I am safe, especially with your presence.

Alanis shook her head. Our vessels have reacted to each other. You have to go, for the time being. Monitor us from outside if you wish.

Caspian eyed her. You're saying you couldn't stop him a second time.

Precisely, Alanis said. We have to meet a balance between our vessels. It may take some time.

Caspian squatted before her on the steel floor. Tell me one thing. Do you feel the Chosen in your head? Have they attempted possession of you?

Not to that extent, Alanis said. But they're in my head. They never leave.

Caspian nodded. Your plateau remains. I am glad. He headed into the lock. I will monitor you from outside, as you suggested. Please try to bring Salvatore to a baseline state.

Chapter 3

Gazing at the starships gathered in the hangar, Vespasian's thoughts strayed to the Chosen in the Diamond and then to Mistrala Ethrus. Imprisoned in a brig a sector away, Mistrala had revealed a massive amount of information about Caspian, the vessel specialists and the Acratani Royal Fleet. While the conflict between their two Houses had reached a moment of respite, House Shiraan had learned a great deal about House Acratani.

The countervailing agent used to wean Mistrala from Caspian's drug cocktail started to show its limits quickly, though. Every time the woman appeared to reach a plateau in her health, she unravelled again. Even though her captivity resembled more of a quarantine, the Chosen body grafted onto her own had detrimental effects on her. Vespasian had last seen her a week ago and she looked about at the level she had in Caspian's service. In other words she looked half-dead.

You're thinking about her, Tristessa said.

Tristessa Csaba, one of Vespasian's oldest friends and part of the Shadow Daggers, looked across at him with sympathy and weariness. The war with the Chosen had weighed on few people as hard as it had on her, both because of her abiding desire