Defector: Part 1: Imperator: Sovereign Stars, #5

By Blair C. Howard

The war against the Swarm isn't going well. The governments of the Sovereign Star systems are riddled with treachery, treason, duplicity and… defection. And the enemy is evolving.

Enter the Imperator, an intelligent, technological alien entity unlike anything the USF has previously encountered.

Commodore Richard Morian's mission is to capture the Imperator . . .

. . . but it will take a planetary invasion on a grand scale to do so, a battle fought in space, in the air, and on the ground. And all this to a backdrop of political intrigue that threatens to bring the entire Sovereign system down.

Order Defector, Part One: Imperator today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blair Howard
• Release date: Dec 29, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223114369

Book preview

PROLOGUE

CONVICTIONS

Resdon Military Complex

Royal Military Legation Building,

Tribunal Room D

Som Orsi City, Planet Caerus

Orso System

Marshal Secerna Hyde glared at her accusers. Captain Sasha Crowe, wearing her nondescript Militia garb, stood next to a team of Military Prosecution Advocates, staring at her through slitted eyes, along with a bevy of engineers, safety regulators, and the whining complainers whom she had excised like a cancer from her org chart because they couldn’t handle the job.

And that little North Galactic snit, the pilot. Axi Dento, or whatever her stupid name is, she thought savagely. It certainly wasn’t an accident that I’m having to put up with this putrescent pilfering of my personal performance. Everything I did was out of loyalty to my home and the defense of it. And they act like I’m a villain.

Axi Quento was on the stand. She had a long story, given in broken standard English, about being a pilot until she got knocked up and had to shuffle around other postings, and that made her uniquely suited to pass judgment on a Royal Marshal. She had access to classified documents—documents I classified myself. The traitor Crowe just handed them out like flyers at a carnival—that somehow proved that her dedication to fighting their genocidal enemies made her a tyrant who wasted human lives.

As you see, the safety records show numerous times when the marshal did not take proper precautions. After the lab incidents, the safety recordings show areas where improvements should have been made, but they were not. I am experienced in safety regulations and requisitions. These things are not small problems. If I were to do something like this, I would lose my commission and be discharged in disgrace.

Thank you, Lieutenant Commander Quento, for your testimony—

What testimony? Secerna shouted, jumping to her feet despite her advocate trying to grab her arm. "Some jumped-up half-commander tells you that the decisions I made during wartime were garbage? Do you have any idea what kind of pressure I was under? I had to oversee three major new developments! And now I’m to blame because some technician—who was assigned to my division—turned out to be a traitor and hacked the system to let in a bunch of criminals?"

Marshal Hyde, you’re out of order—

Do you even realize the technological developments I pioneered? she continued, her heavyset body taut with anger, her voice loud and her face turning red. "I created two different materials that resist plasma fire. I was in charge of those divisions, and they’re turning out military materiel as we speak. I had to fight with military-appointed suppliers who continuously gave me faulty—"

Bailiffs, restrain the prisoner. The judge stared at her as two Royal Military Police seized her. One slapped a restraining gag over her jaw, and her tirade became little more than mumbles. I’m going to do the marshal a favor and allow her comments to stand on the record. She has a right for her accomplishments to be recorded. But court is adjourned for today. We’ll recess until 0900 tomorrow.

The bailiffs marched Hyde back to her holding cell. As befitted a high-ranking prisoner, she didn’t share space with the common criminal rabble. They had a special cell block for people like her—a cold and lonely one.

She sat fuming for at least an hour before she heard the door open. Despite her anger, she noticed the oddity. It isn’t nearly time for dinner yet. Who could that be? Is my ridiculous advocate here to complain again?

But the figure who stood in front of her cell wasn’t her advocate. Something about him seemed familiar, though. He was tall, slim with a slight cast to his right eye.

Marshal Hyde. What a pleasure it is to meet you, he said.

Who the—Secerna almost began but then decided to play it safe. Who are you? she asked.

I think you mean to ask, ‘Who the feckless, infectious, affectatious fecal flow are you?’ he replied with a smile. Wasn’t that what you were thinking, Secerna? An amazingly alliterative way to begin an advantageously auspicious adventure, I must say.

How did you know what— The realization crashed home. You’re a Psy.

I see you are being treated better than I was, the man said. Then again, they accused me of many more crimes.

Oh? Were they crimes of high treason, like my prosecutor is trying to accomplish? Secerna snorted.

Oh, indeed they were, the man stated with a smile. They accused me of conspiring to kill Orson Lorne.

Conspiring to— The story trickled into her mind. You were a member of the secret cabal organized by Ugo Tan.

Indeed, I was, he replied. Not that I was involved directly, mind you. I merely trained the one who accomplished the deed. After all, it would do no good to admit that I myself was one of those whom Tan sought out. He would have had me drugged and strapped to a bench, like so many of my… subjects.

And that makes you Eugma Zettel, Secerna guessed. The one who almost escaped his parole.

But I have escaped now, as you can see. Zettel spread his arms as if to show his freedom. Alas, I merely find myself serving a new master. But one with something to offer you, I think.

A traitor comes to me with an offer to join a group of traitors?

Ah, Zettel said, then added, but who defines the traitor? Merely someone who doesn’t benefit from the attempt. The One King would be very interested in retaining a woman of your accomplishments.

How’s it worked out for you so far? she sneered.

He gave her a smirk. Well, I am out here, am I not?

And you can release me? So I can work for your… One King? she snarled. Who is he and what does he want?

The same as any other king, Zettel explained. More power. But in this case, he seeks to drive the Swarm back. He simply removes the restraints and considerations from the equation.

And what does he require of you? she asked.

Zettel pulled up his sleeve. He had the symbol ϟϟ branded into his skin.

And what is that? A mark of loyalty?

No. Obedience. He sighed. I understood less when I took the mark than you do now. But I promise you, if your goal is to fight the Swarm, he is your best opportunity now.

Secerna thought about her life in prison for the deaths of a handful of people, many of whom simply didn’t properly manage the jobs she’d given them.

The people massacred by the Champions weren’t my fault either, she still told herself. If those machines had been properly programmed, they wouldn’t have attacked humans.

What about the criminal who put me here? Secerna demanded. Kasa de Cevoir. I want her head.

Records show that she died after the station attack.

Pocker-quinsey! Secerna felt a brief stab of regret. Mother would not like my language. I watched them march her off. She was alive.

And should you have an opportunity to prove that, you may feel free to do as you see fit. The One King considered her a liability.

Yes! Payment enough. Fine. I’ll take your offer, she replied nonchalantly. But… can’t I just get it tattooed?

I’m afraid not, Zettel said as he reached through the bars. It will at least be quick. His finger touched her skin.

Suddenly, her arm felt as if it was being sawed off by a white-hot knife. She screamed, clutching the wound with her hand, which didn’t feel the heat at first. After what felt like an eternity, curled in a ball of pain, she tried to look at her wound.

She found a burn scar, several inches long, in the rough shape of ϟϟ.

It will look more like mine by tomorrow, Zettel said. And be glad you have received two. Those with only one do not make for good conversation. Placing his hand on the cell door lock, he closed his eyes and concentrated, his face scrunched up. After a few moments, the lock beeped and then squealed. Smoke drifted out of the casing.

Technopathy is still a difficult skill, he said. But all in good time, Secerna Hyde. Come, let’s go meet Rook. I’m certain he will be happy to see you.

Level Theta Holding Cells (Classified)

Regis Magnum Shipyards

Planet Caerus, L2 Orbit

Orso System

Kasa Su-Mei—AKA Kasa de Cevoir—sat in her cell on the block of unidentified material that served as her bed. She was a slight young woman and she was tired; her long black hair hung in strings for lack of care; her almond eyes dull with despair. Her nanomod ocular implant had limited video storage, but her captors were kind enough to grant her vids to watch. None of it was entertaining, and none of it was suitable to educate a woman with three advanced degrees. But solitary was quiet, and she was lonely.

She deserved to be there; she knew that. She also knew she didn’t deserve mercy.

But she watched every video, over and over, because it meant hours that she didn’t have to dwell on her mistakes. Her failures.

Odd that my mistakes and my failures are completely different things, she thought.

She heard something outside her cell. The walls were soundproof, which meant—

Someone’s here? She stopped the vid and checked the time. Why?

The door opened, and she could hear the buzzing of a strange machine. It was like having a bug near your ear, and she resisted the urge to swipe at nothing.

The guard, armed and armored, placed a circlet of metal on the floor. Put it on, he said. The door closed, and she was left with… silence.

A halo?

It can’t be anything bad, she thought as she picked it up. They could kill me at any time. I faked my own death. They don’t have to keep me alive.

She honestly wasn’t sure why they hadn’t killed her.

She slipped the halo on and was transported to a conference room. The halo was a device that allowed enhanced mental communication between units, but clearly the technology was taking off. The detail was deeper than she remembered, the sensory experience much finer. She touched the cloth-covered chair, and the fibers were tactile under her fingers—as if she was touching textured vinyl. The tabletop looked like wood grain, though it, too, felt artificial. She looked at the walls, and the colors were a wonderful, muted transition from one to the next—the sky blues and the cerulean greens and the sunset periwinkles blending so artfully she wanted to just stare at it.

This is so much nicer than my cell, she thought.

The door to the conference room slid open, and a tall, handsome, well-dressed and obviously aristocratic, figure walked in, carrying a folder.

Oh, good, you’re already here, he said. Please have a seat.

Kasa self-consciously glanced down at her own clothes. She was wearing a Regis Magnum station jumpsuit, not her prison garb. She sat down in the chair and felt comfort for the first time in weeks.

The well-dressed man sat across from her. So, Kasa de Cevoir—or should I say, Kasa Su-Mei?

Kasa shrank from her false name, de Cevoir. The name of a traitor. Kasa Su-Mei, please.

"Very well. We already know the details; you adopted the name de Cevoir, falsified documents to make you a Swarm refugee, and proceeded to enlist in college, where you earned an impressive list of credentials. Then, you entered the military and received a posting to the Regis Magnum Shipyards, Military Research Division. Though, given your exceptional computer abilities, they’ve been trying to prove that you did indeed manipulate the system to receive that posting."

Kasa managed not to hang her head. I’ll confirm that I did put myself in that position and show them how I exploited the code.

I’m sure they’ll appreciate it. But I do have an important question. Did you attend the college? Did you really earn those degrees?

Pride swelled in her as she answered. I did, sir. I needed those classes to pass as a technician. There was no way I could fake my way through every conversation unless I had a solid bedrock of knowledge.

I did confirm that with your professors, and they were happy to reminisce. But the degree in Classical Instruments?

She shrugged. I liked to play. It was fun. And I was never going to get another opportunity… She trailed off.

Because you were going to go back to Citrom, and work for Hirana Ligarch?

She flinched away from his words.

Oh, he said, just a bit slyly, you didn’t want to work for Hirana Ligarch?

Kasa could barely bite out the next words. He has my parents. They have to work for him. So I had to work for him.

Ah, the infamous system of usury. The man smiled self-importantly. Create a society where people have to ask for your help, which you offer at a price. It really is a despicable practice, which is why it’s not surprising the Dawn Fan likes it. You’ll be happy to know that your parents are safe, at least for the moment.

A crushing weight lifted from her shoulders before suspicion set in. How do I know you’re telling the truth? she asked.

He twitched his fingers, and a vid started playing in midair. How did? Oh. The halo. The simulation was so convincing that for a moment, she’d forgotten about it.

The vid was simple. It showed her parents going about various duties in the Ligarch mansion—a place she’d entered only a few times.

Su-Mei Galpa and An-Sun Telerio, he said, and then the vid changed to her brother and sister. Celier and Arak. Each one had on a school uniform, the pair walking down the sidewalk. Each of the vids was clearly security camera footage.

How did you get all of these? she asked.

I have people in the right places, he explained. After our recent raid on Citrom, and realizing the extent of the problems there, I ordered my Agents of the Crown to see what they could find.

Raid on Citrom? she asked.

Yes, we expected to find smugglers, not an entire salvage and manufacturing operation. And Hirana Ligarch is in the middle of it, though not the only party.

Concern for her family surged through her. But you can rescue them, right?

I can. Hope replaced concern until he added, But the question is, what would be in it for me?

She couldn’t imagine he meant… sex, could he? But she’d done a lot of things to survive living in a crime-infested craphole. This would be just one more. How long would I be your… Say it. This is for your family! … your woman?

He frowned.

Is he feigning confusion? she wondered at his expression. But she couldn’t imagine someone like him was stupid. Your concubine, then? When he still expressed confusion, she spat it out. Your whore. A year? Two? Five? How long would I serve?

He laughed. Laughed! What? No! I’m a Crown Prince, and, frankly, too busy if I even wished to indulge. I want to hire you for your expertise. Not many people can get through the security of a Royal Military installation.

My expertise?

Yes. Three advanced degrees and a natural hacking ability. I want to hire you.

She blinked. Blinked again. You seem really educated, so I have to ask. You do know that I’m incarcerated for treason?

You’re a spy. And a very good one. He leaned a little closer as if imparting a secret in a room that only existed for them. I’m also a spy. He waggled his eyebrows at her, like a vid comedian.

Kasa giggled unexpectedly. He looked ridiculous. You’re a spy? You said you were a Prince.

I am a Prince. I’m also an infiltrator and trained assassin. My training was very thorough, I assure you. And I have two decades of political training, which any good spy really needs, in my circles anyway.

A Prince? He can’t be Prince Elio, can he? He’s the only prince I know of in Orso space.

But wait, you can’t hire me, she said, again trying to make sense of the sudden shifts. I have a military trial. They won’t let me get out of that. I’m a traitor.

Ah, but under Royal Edicts 204-15.6, the Wartime Emergency Act, and 117-24.8, the Release for Penitent Labor, you absolutely can get out of that. The prince laughed. All you have to do is agree to work for me. And we’ve already discussed your pay.

I was willing to betray an entire government for the chance to get my family free of Hirana Ligarch. How bad would it be to serve this one man instead?

And then it hit her; she remembered Sasha Crowe’s parting words. So, Prince Tarak, what would I be doing for you? she asked.

He smiled. Well done, Kasa Su-Mei. How clever of you. Yes, I am Prince Tarak Tudor of Odin.

Disappointment washed over her. So you can’t really get me out of here.

I’ve already sealed your records under classification so strict that King Lorne would have to ask permission to see them. Prince Tarak shrugged. I will be arranging your release soon. But you claimed in your initial testimony that there was another spy aboard Regis Magnum. Do you really believe that?

Yes, Kasa said immediately. Someone betrayed my position in my original cellblock, and two enforcers of Ligarch’s came to kill me. One of them died. And then someone attacked the survivor before my Med-bay hack poisoned him.

Compelling if true, Prince Tarak said. "And if there’s another spy close at hand, we don’t want to risk tipping our hand. You’ll stay where you are for now. I’ll arrange some… decent furnishings for you. I insist that my employees have the basics, at least."

The entire conversation seemed upside down. How can you accomplish all this? Isn’t siding with a prince of Odin treason all over again?

I serve the human race, however pompous it may sound to say so. Prince Tarak folded his fingers together. Recently, I had to bend my judgment under the orders of my queen. I don’t feel that served humanity well. So, like you, I am placing my personal concerns over those of others. But I, in this instance, am using my position of power to see a wider picture and attack the problem instead of reacting to it.

Kasa realized that he must be, however obliquely, referring to her betrayal of hundreds of lives and billions in damages in order to save four people. It wasn’t really my fault, echoed in her mind for the hundredth time, and every time it lost credibility.

I’ll have my people arrange something for you. In the meantime, keep the halo, and prepare for a little conversation to keep you occupied. But remember—you’re still considered dead. Don’t use de Cevoir or Su-Mei. Call yourself… Aries. You will soon meet a fellow researcher—call him Ferdi. And there will be others you can talk to.

Another fake name. Hiding who she was felt… dirty. But for the chance to live? To make a difference in a galaxy at war?

To repay the very large debt she had accrued?

Um, thank you, I guess? Then Kasa remembered who she was talking to. I mean, I appreciate the opportunity, my prince. I won’t disappoint you.

He stood, and she did likewise. Welcome to our little society. I think we’ll accomplish great things together. Prince Tarak held out his hand, and she shook it vigorously. Now, if you’ll excuse me, he added with a wink, my war is about to start.

The halo shut off. She found herself sitting in her cell again.

She looked around and realized there was no place to set the halo—

Surprisingly, she saw a small shelf attached to the wall that she hadn’t noticed before. She inspected it—finding it sealed to the wall with some kind of epoxy. When she sniffed, she could detect the fading aroma of chemical bonding.

But… when… For the first time, she wondered if everything she said was being recorded. She simply placed the halo on the shelf and turned on one of her well-watched vids. She needed the distraction.

She tried to shake off the feeling that someone was watching her, but she knew that wouldn’t pass.

Formerly Deturo City

Planet Robeus

Kaplian System

Zero11-812 passed through the threshold between Inherence, its home, and the disgusting emptiness of the physical world.

Already it longed for the connection to the Will. But it still felt the imperative in its corporeal mind—find Nine-141 and clarify.

The ship had no name, as humans might offer. Its interstitial energy coordinates were identification enough. Zero11-812 lowered the ship down to the planet whose humans had been eradicated.

It exited the ship, feeling a surge of duty—a gift from the Will—before setting out upon its task. The world here was painfully void of the Will’s presence, and the collected energy signatures of the Will’s incompetent minion class did little to assuage. But it watched as workers collected human detritus into piles before purification. The monatomic energy signatures quickly dispersed, creating merely another imperfect layer upon the chaotic structure that was a… planet.

As it walked, it saw minions stopping to look. Its own energy signature was very different than the minions; it bore no connection at all to the Will. The Will thought nothing of minions, as humans would not think of grains of sand among mountains. Each minion knew the Will and did its duty—until the imperfection of humans corrupted them. Minions who survived humans began drifting from the Will, their energy signatures changing.

But like looking for a single granule of sand, it was difficult to find Nine-141’s one energetic frequency among all the others.

Now, the minions stepped aside as it walked past. Why do this? Zero11-812 demanded of the minions.

You are mighty, Zero11-812, they explained. You serve the Will.

All serve the Will, it snarled. All must serve the Will.

But you serve most of all, they said. It sounded like awe. Awe! They had elevated its purpose because of its purpose?

Their awe was human corruption. But Zero11-812 was not here for them. It was here for another.

It found Nine-141. Nine-141 wasn’t purifying the human detritus. It was cradling the object as if searching for meaning in its useless physical form.

Nine-141, purify the object.

Nine-141 stepped back as if in fear.

Human emotion? Disgusting. Zero11-812 activated its weapon and touched the human object. The object disintegrated.

Why did you do that? Nine-141 asked. I wished to understand it.

What is there to understand? Zero11-812 said. It is a human object. Its energy served no purpose.

The humans made it for a purpose, Nine-141 explained. If I understand humans, I will purify them better.

The Will seeks to understand humans, Zero11-812 replied. The Servant commands minions to the Will. The minions obey the Will. You did not obey.

I will obey.

You will obey. Zero11-812 raised a clawed hand, the tips alight in furious energy.

I will obey! I will obey! Nine-141 begged.

Human emotion is corruption. Zero11-812 tried to plunge its glowing claws into Nine-141, but the minion fell away, scrabbling like a desperate human. Its own claws formed a plasmic discharge weapon—and fired!

Zero11-812 absorbed the energy easily. The Will did not permit mere minions to harm other minions. And Zero11-812 was far more than a minion.

The claws plunged inside Nine-141. They grasped the speck of corruption inside the silicate heart and removed it. Then Zero11-812 formed its own weapon and destroyed the heart, before firing an alter-pulse into Nine-141.

Nine-141 lay there, its energy signature slowly changing. Soon, it nearly matched that of Zero11-812.

You are Clarified, the human corruption purged, Zero11-812 said. Now, we will purify the human objects.

Yes, said Zero9-141. Purify.

Around them, the minions shrank back as if fearful they too would be struck down.

Fear is a human emotion that must be purged, Zero11-812 declared to the onlookers. Complete the Will. Purge the humans.

Yes, said Zero9-141, as it burned a piece of human detritus. Purge.

CHAPTER

ONE

PREPARATIONS

Avenger’s Bridge

Approaching Planet Thorym

Odin System

Commander Manda Haal, first officer of the Avenger, stood at the command rail