893 After Ascension

  Notes: excerpt taken from “The life and accomplishments of Paulo the Navigator” (863 A.A to 1214 A.A.). The source material constitutes a work of era-specific propaganda and interpretation of the known underlying events must be taken into account.

  The Emperor’s flagship gleamed in shifting metallic purple tones, tinged with reflected grey and white from the Moon. His honor guard surrounded the flagship, towering battleships and nimble corvettes, dancing in a sphere around it, engines burning new stars into the void with their unbridled power, the Emperor’s might on full display.

  With infinite grace and precision the fleet drew into position beneath the shadow of the Bioyard. The structure dwarfed any station before it, it grew beyond even the biggest habitats, a fusion of deep purple flesh and metal alloys, twisting and crawling over each other. It was a monument, one that the Emperor’s father Aurelio the Wise had begun, following in the footsteps of his father before him, Mateus the Diplomat.

  Emperor Paulo dominated the bridge of the ship, up in his throne, overlooking a crew of hundreds, each in their own suspended pod, each station like a ripe grape on a bunch. When the Emperor rose, all work ceased, all eyes turned to him as his voice boomed across the Empire at light-speed.

  “My grandfather,” the Emperor’s voice cut across the room, across the system, and eventually across the entire human controlled Bubble. “He made sure the borders of our Empire would not be breached. Made sure the aggressive Kiljm would not invade our planets and shatter our peace. He alone forged the alliance with the Oll.”

  He let the silence spread thick with implication, studying the faces before him.

  “But my father… my father had even grander dreams. Grander than any before him, grander than any of the Saints, maybe even as grand as the First Emperor. You look at his accomplishments, in the shadow of his own father, and see nothing of worth. But I know the truth, and today so will you. This,” he gestured to one of the screens where Bioyard was on full display. “This is his legacy. Behold!”

  Flesh peeled back in layers from the Bioyard’s surface, exposing a kilometers long rift of blackness. Liquids and air spilled out and crystalized into a drifting cloud that spread out until it was no longer visible. The thing emerged slowly, forcing its way out, pushing the flesh open. It was black, with a single straight purple line running its course, an amalgamation of strange tumorous growths piled over each other, dripping in strands and glistening as if wet. Even in the darkness its immense size was apparent: at least two kilometers long, as big as three battleships end to end, crawling out before the engines finally emerged and it coasted free.

  “They cannot contain us!” The Emperor roared with his fist in the air. “Not the Kiljm, not the Aguraminami, not even the Oll. The stars are ours alone!”

  The crowd in the ship roared their admiration. Feet pounded steel until the ship itself shook. The imperial salute was given, an indicator finger laid flat over the nose and head bowed. The cries of elation from all across the Solar System could be heard even this far out, a swelling of the chest with the knowledge that the Empire’s true purpose would finally be fulfilled.

  901 After Ascension

  Notes: Accounts from the journal of Duke Luís de Carvalho (865 A.A. to 1299 A.A.). Reliable source but heavily redacted by imperial historians. Possibility of adulteration as the original work has been lost.

  It was the lowest level of the Heart, that behemoth of metal that had turned into the Emperor’s seat, a world built piece by piece, layer over layer. The lights were dim and flickering. Muck coated the streets in sticky and disgusting messes. Luís carefully avoided puddles that might stain his brand new coat of blazing light blue as his retinal implants allowed him to follow the map deep into the unknown streets. The alley was hidden behind an overfilled trash-bin, squished between two towers of tiny apartments that stretched up into the leaking metal sky. He pushed the bin aside and peered into the darkness. A pair of eyes twinkled farther down.

  “John?” he called.

  “Shhhhhh!” the man came closer. “Get in here, quick.”

  “Do we have to meet in such disgusting places?”

  “Cut that princeling bullshit.”

  “Dukeling, actually.”

  The man glowered at him.

  “Here’s the money.” He handed over a thick envelope.

  The man handed him a block of inert otaral. He turned the dark green data cube in his hands and felt the grooves and microscopic carvings on its surface.

  “You better not be fucking with me,” Luís warned, hand on the pistol at his hip.

  “That wouldn’t be good for business now, would it?”

  John disappeared back into the darkness. Luís shoved the data cube into one of the hidden pockets stitched on the inside of his cape. He only now noticed the cape was drenched in piss.

  “By the First, how I hate this place,” he murmured.

  He took the express elevators back out into the surface. Only when he could again look out at the clear stars above the steelglass dome did he feel safe again. He proceeded down the wide avenues, in the shadow of towering firs and between paths of carefully manicured flowers and grass and tailored gentle winds. His villa was not far.

  The guards exchanged a concerned look even as they swung the gates open. If all went according to plan, no one even knew he had left. Or so he thought, because Madalena was standing on the porch, dressed in a flowing white dress, glowering at him as she tapped her feet in that cute manner of hers.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “I’ll tell you tomorrow, darling,” he gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  “Your father, the Duke, will not be pleased his son is cavorting with such kinds of people.”

  “Does he need to know?” he smiled, knowing she loved his smile.

  Her anger drained away and she looped her arm into his elbow.

  “You’ll need to bribe me,” she said. “I saw a ring today…”

  “We’ll soon have enough to buy you a goddamn imperial crown.”

  He smiled fiercely to himself seeing the twinkle in her eyes.

  The grounds around the Palace were wide fields of gently rolling purple grass that swayed in the wind. Above his head, drones buzzed low, tracking his progress. They would accompany for as long as he was here. The Palace itself was a bright shiny beacon of light, a single colossal base, ringed in white marble columns and jutting towers of metal that shot almost all the way to the dome. The closer he got, the more statues ringed the stone path: past Emperors, admirals, even wives. They moved slightly, giving the illusion of life if you did not look too closely at the stone skin, simulating programmed mannerisms from their lives. Most of them did not deserve to be there, basking in unearned glories.

  The doors to the Ascension Hall were of a pure black wood that seemed to drink all the light. Diamonds and rubies glittered like stars as a single massive yellow-jade shone as the sun. The guards here did not bother with the redacted vestments of their counterparts prancing outside. They were inside their armorsuits, smothered in layers of titanium alloys, eyes tracking all approaching movement. The Announcer stood next to Luís. Like him, he was dressed in the redacted and colourful vestments of the court. Luís hated it. He much preferred his armor.

  The doors swung open.

  “Heir Duke Luís Carvalho,” the announcer shouted. “Count of Almeria and Palha?a.”

  Faces turned towards him. Luís stepped confidently across the purple carpet. To the sides the courtiers and the royalty watched. Some smiled politely, but in all their eyes he saw hunger and calculation. He smiled brightly, pumping out his chest, hand laid on this (disarmed) pistol.

  The throne had been carved out of the largest single piece of quartz ever found. Steps were dug into it, leading to a monstrous and delicate mural of swirling patterns. The hard surface had been cushioned with plush pillows, of course, for the redacted Emperor. Emperor Paulo was a thin man, of long limbs and redacted stature. His famous moustache was full and thick, perfectly trimmed into a redacted shape hanging above his lips. At least his eyebrows were carefully thinned, saving him from the redacted portrayal of his ancestors. He wore a golden cuirass over his flowery garments of purple, gold and black. A perfect image of masculinity that never quite seemed redacted.

  “My Emperor,” Luís announced as he bowed, not just with the imperial salute, but also extending his left hand out, palm out, and crossing his right foot behind the other, a precarious balancing act of perfect courtesy.

  “Rise, Count Luís,” the Emperor said. “Tell us, why have you petitioned for this audience?”

  “Because I have found it,” Luís turned to the audience, looking them in the eyes. “I have found a route across the borders the Kiljm, out into unclaimed systems.”

  “And you have proof?” the Emperor demanded.

  “I have, my Emperor,” Luís proffered up the otaral cube.

  One of the Emperor’s concubines took it from his hands and climbed the steps to hand it to her master. He saw the Emperor’s eyes glaze over, completely wide, as he downloaded information into his implants. When he returned to reality, the Emperor stood and the murmurs in the room died down.

  “Count Luís, I promote you to the rank of Imperial Admiral. You shall have a fleet. Three bioships and their attendant vessels. I give you your mission. Sail into the void, sail past the borders that surround us like a prison. Admiral Luís, find me a route.”

  The applause was awkward and mild at first, then gained momentum as the guards subtly shifted in their armor suits. Luís pretended surprise, professed his endless gratitude and promises, and smiled awkwardly. But it was all for show. All had been redacted long ago.

  But the swelling of his chest was not fake. It was true pride. He would climb farther than his own father ever had, than any Carvalho before him had. His name would be marked in history with the great conquerors of old.

  903 After Ascension

  The priest, dressed in a shimmering red robe, led the mass. Luís stood behind the orating priest in his fanciest clothes, silky reds and green traced with strands of gold, a silvery cuirass over the costume.

  “... in the name of the First Emperor,” the priest closed the holy book with a resounding thud.

  “All glories are his!” Luís shouted. The others echoed back in a short-lived chant.

  “Everyone to their stations,” Luís ordered. “And you, priest, go strap yourself down.”

  The man lowered his head in the imperial salute as he left. Luís settles into the soft and warm acceleration seat. The flesh gave slightly under his weight before it hardened. He looked over his core crew, swaddled in their own stations, all eyes on the screens or glazed over as they interfaced directly. Luís chose the latter. He connected the slimy tentacle to his neck and felt it burrow and squirm underneath the folds of his flesh until it found the port.

  He closed his eyes and was transported to the tactical display. His armada was in position. His flagship, the Gil Eanes, led the small wedge shape, flanked by the S?o Domingo and the Emperor Joaquim.

  “Earthers!” he shouted in the virtual world for all to hear. “Our Emperor has given us a sacred mission. We shall obey and we shall bring him glory and spoils! We shall teach the Kiljm the strength of human steel!”

  The silence was awkward, but he knew they would be cheering all across the ships.

  “Captains, full speed ahead!”

  The bioship, the colossus, burned hot, six rockets in a hexagon pumping out fuel until the acceleration hit one gee. In little over a year and a half, they left the last scattered vestiges of the Oort cloud behind.

  But they had another secret. Something as valuable as the ships themselves: the cryopods purchased from the Oll with what little dark-matter the Empire could harness. They were the key, the missing piece that made this all possible, skipping decades ahead in time and emerging almost the same men.

  He sunk into the grizzly pod of sharp metal and closed his eyes as metal arms with syringe tips unfurled all around him. He willed them to work faster. His destiny waited open handed. There was pain, before darkness and cold descended.