“What the devil are you doing in my crime scene?” hollered a voice from behind me. I didn’t need my abilities to know the woman was very upset. I didn’t blame her. I would be angry in her place. The problem was that I was busy examining the body, and I didn’t need the distraction. From what my stepfather told me, if I didn’t get this problem solved, the aborigines living in New Town would either be exiled – or worse, hunted down and killed. As much as my stepfather hated to admit it, he liked having the Stone Walkers in the city. They had proven themselves far beyond any normal trouble they caused. This case was a different matter. This was murder.
I turned my head around slowly to see a tall woman in a fashionable black business suit. The kind that screamed “moderately prosperous professional.” The semi-darkness of the streetlamp-lit alley shaded her auburn hair to a dull almost brown. Large brown eyes were practically throwing daggers at me. Her leggy stride was confident and assertive to the point of aggressiveness. From her psi-scent, I could sense the rage of intrusion and the suspicion of betrayal swirling around her. I was glad I was doing my preliminary examination of the scene and hadn’t opened up my empathic sense fully. Her anger would be like having a sudden spotlight flashed into my eyes. She was just about to walk into the invisible shield I silently raised around me before the man who brought me out into this putrid alley intervened.
“Detective, the Office of Emergency Management has been tasked by Lord Manattan to assist your unit on this case,” Major Shota said calmly, “He’s just doing what we’ve asked him to do.” Major Shota was a short man with slitted eyes, cropped black hair, and an olive complexion. He was a competent officer for the Imperial Security forces in New Town, but he demonstrated a streak of politician in him that kept me from trusting him fully. Anyone spending that much time trying to keep everyone happy wasn’t spending enough time on their duties. Shota kept his wiry body at a formal stance as he spoke with the detective from the New Town Police Department. He meant it as a sign of respect, but it was only adding to the rage within the detective. Sometimes it was very annoying being able to know what everyone around me was feeling.
“Exactly what is he supposed to be doing?” she retorted, “And what makes him more capable than the other officers and detectives I have on scene?” There was something in her psi-scent that screamed arrogance to me. Some of it may have been deserved. The New Town Police Department was considered to be the finest police service in the Empire. The downside was that they knew it, and they sometimes had trouble taking advice and help on what they considered their specialties. This detective and her cohorts had managed to screw up a major case, and they refused to believe otherwise. Typical of New Towners.
“As to what I’m doing Detective, I’m examining the body and the crime scene,” I said, and I could feel smugness and condescension rise as she heard my rural accent, “As for what makes me qualified? First, I am a Chief Warrant Officer in the Imperial Rangers with years of experience dealing with aborigines in the field. Second, I was the one who helped forge the alliance between Lord Manattan and the Stone Walkers, so I have pretty good relations with the city-dwellers. Third, I’m a pretty strong psychic, which lets me sense things that your officers can’t perceive. Lastly, because Lord Manattan ordered me to handle the situation, something you and yours have failed to do!” The last part had come out loud and slightly angry, which infuriated the detective in front of me. I took a mental step back. I had to tone down my own anger before the detective dismissed me out of hand. Many New Towners were annoyingly secure in their superiority to anyone who didn’t live in the largest city in the Empire, and those of us who lived in small cities and towns got tired of their attitude very quickly. I also knew that not everyone in the city belonged to that group, so I needed to take my own prejudices in step. The detective had every professional right to be angry with me.
“That will be enough, Chief,” Major Shota said firmly. The major belonged to Imperial Security, the parent military branch of the Rangers, and he was in my chain of command. “Finish your work here.” With no further options, I did exactly as the major directed.
The body was of a young woman, late teens to early twenties by casual observation. Her clothing was expensive and trendy. Something a wealthy young woman would wear to a club. I recognized the clothing from some of the stores my sister dragged me to the last time I was in New Town. The victim was covered with both shallow and deep jagged cuts. I wasn’t sure if the numerous lacerations killed her, but if they didn’t, the removal of her heart certainly did. That part of the act looked like a ritual of some sort, with straight, precise incisions around the girl’s chest. Definitely not the work of the goblins that infested New Town. They didn’t have the patience or technique. The variation between savage and precision ruled out elves. Their minds just didn’t work that way. That left humans and aborigines. From what I saw, the wounds were caused by bladed weapons with a rough edge. Weapons that were either slightly dull, or of a primitive manufacture. I could see how the crime scene investigators decided that this was an attack by an aborigine. There was even the psi-scent of an aborigine, which explained why even the police psychics thought the Stone Walkers were involved. Everything pointed to an aborigine, but there was something fundamentally wrong with that assumption.
First, aborigines didn’t perform ritual killings. They were a patriarchal hunter-gatherer race with a very simple set of beliefs based on ancestor worship. Their religion would have forbidden them from committing a mutilation like this. Moreover, the aborigines that lived in New Town were not a tribe, but instead belonged to a particularly notorious (amongst aborigines) religious cult known as the Stone Walkers. They were even more stringent with their beliefs than their brethren out on the plains of the Empire, especially when it came to dealing with humans. Assuming that aboriginal weapons were used and that was the reason for the aborigine psi-scent surrounding the murder scene, then the wounds looked like they were caused by the long curved knife and small tomahawk of an aborigine hunter, but the wounds were at the wrong angles and depths to be the work of an aborigine hunter. The wounds were very similar, but I hunted enough goblins and orcs with aborigines to know their technique pretty well. Whoever did this knew about aborigines, enough to fool more than casual scrutiny. As much as I hated it, there was only one good way to figure out what was happening.
Psi-scents flared around me as I dropped my mental blocks. My head wanted to explode from the sudden eruption of hundreds of new psi-scents. First, I filtered out all of the psi-scents of the living. I was looking for ghosts – psychic impressions caused by strong emotions. The victim’s ghost was loud and shot through with terror. The other ghost – it was being difficult. The overlay felt similar to an aborigine – the alien emotional makeup was unique. There was something odd about the ghost. A distortion that shouldn’t be there. I dug underneath the aborigine ghost, carefully pulling at its edges. A new psi-scent emerged from underneath the aborigine psi-scent it was wearing like a cloak. The new psi-scent was definitely human. Human, and deranged. I sensed this kind before, and I did not like it one bit. This trip had made an ugly turn.
My trip to New Town started on a supposedly innocent note. A week before, I rode into Tam Bay after doing a patrol of my family’s holdings. The Stahl family was considered one of the wealthiest in the Tam Bay sectors, and we had considerable interests in many homesteads as well as our own farms. All of this was in addition to our shipping and financial businesses. I was recently put on reserve status for the Imperial Security Ranging Patrol Force, more commonly known as the Rangers, due to a public flap I had with the Empire’s most famous soldier, Major Justice. Rather than wallow in self-pity, I asked my Aunt Beth for some work. Since she had been pestering me for years to leave the service and join the family company, she gleefully found something that was right up my alley – checking on the various holdings and making sure that everything was “paid and protected.” It was work, but it was too close to my duties as a Ranger. Just enough to let me know what my anger cost me.
“There are some reporters from New Town looking for you,” a familiar voice said from behind me as I pulled the saddle off of my horse. I felt Charles’s psi-scent the moment he walked into the stable. Charles was a star reporter in Tam Bay, which meant he had no standing amongst the elite journalists from the southern cities. Amongst natives of the northern areas of the Empire, Charles was the reporter that the public trusted. I talked to him because he had never misquoted me or used anything I told him in a way harmful to the Rangers. We weren’t friends, but we were allies, in a sense. It was Charles’s reporting of my flap with Major Justice that gave my superiors enough public support to keep me in the service instead of cashiering me outright for insubordination.
“What do they want, and how can I help you beat them out?” I asked with a mischievous grin. His laugh was confirmation enough of why he tracked me down.
“Your sister’s announced her engagement to a noble from Liberty,” Charles answered, “Plus, there are rumors that Lord Manattan is going to ask you to assist on some big case down there.” I knew I was scowling, but I didn’t care. Lord Manattan was one of six district lords in New Town, the largest city in the Empire, and its financial capital. He was also my stepfather. Lord Manattan and I were civil to each other for the sake of my mother, but my relations with that entire family were strained. The only exceptions were my stepbrother, Tim, and my sister.
“Put something down about I’m very happy for my sister, and I can’t comment on an investigation I have no knowledge of,” I replied, hefting the saddle onto its shelf.
“Very happy and no comment,” Charles murmurred as he scribbled in his notepad, “Sometimes I wonder if I’m your family’s PR guy. You seem very casual about handing me these things.”
“It’s because you do such a good job,” I retorted light-heartedly, “And we know each other too well for you to abuse my trust.” Charles nodded ominously at my comment.
Charles was right. I was flooded by reporters from New Town the moment I emerged onto the public streets of Tam Bay. Reporters loved two things: celebrity and mystery. Apparently, these two things surrounded me for the moment. Having the runner from the Rangers office with orders for me did little to quell the throng’s demand for my comments. Fortunately for me, Rangers had absolutely no tolerance for overbearing and obnoxious reporters. Not a one could get past the two Rangers standing guard as I walked into the familiar building. A quick meeting with the captain informed me that I had been reinstated to active duty on the condition of being detached to the New Town station for an assignment there. Within a week, I was on a dark street examining a body.
“The good news is that this woman wasn’t murdered by an aborigine,” I told the major and the detective, “The perp is a human.” Disbelief shot through both the major and the detective. I wasn’t surprised, and to be honest, they had every right to wonder what was going through my head. All of the professionals they had dealt with before I showed up told them that these attacks were done by aborigines. They might have accepted Dark Towers, but the idea of a human being responsible for such grisly murders was shocking beyond anything they could comprehend. Here, at least, I had the advantage over the detective and the major. Outside the cities, a person comes in contact with exactly how brutal humans could be to one another.
The major, the detective – a Vanessa Hagarty – and I – along with Prince, my dog – left the crime scene for Detective Hagarty’s precinct. I needed a better overview of the string of crimes. Plus, I needed to explain things to both the major and the detective, and the crime scene wasn’t the place for that discussion. I didn’t say anything as we drove over. Too many things were running through my mind. It was almost three in the morning, and I was physically drained. I had literally just stepped off the magtrain before being whisked away to the crime scene. Prince, the faithful dog that he was, noticed my fatigue and nuzzled up against me. I just wanted to let myself drift off to sleep, but I couldn’t. Too much had to be done in too little time.
The case room was a largish room with whiteboards and tackboards lining the walls. Photos of past victims, various reports, and handwritten notes covered the boards. The police had been trying very hard to come up with a scenario that would explain everything. The only theory they had was that the perp was an aborigine. A mug of tea was thrust into my hand as the case room rapidly filled up with about a dozen police officers and another half-dozen others affiliated with the Office of Emergency Management. I hated putting on impromptu dog-and-pony shows, but there wasn’t much choice. At least I had the dog.
“Okay folks, here is what we’re dealing with,” I began, fatigue slowing my already pronounced drawl. I wrote on the whiteboard as I spoke to help keep my thoughts in order. “The most common term is ’serial killer.’ A human with a psychopathic need to murder. Let me repeat that. Our target is a psychologically disturbed human. From the information that I gathered at the scene of the latest murder, I will give you some guesses as to whom our target is.”
“Just what makes you think you know more than we do, hick?” asked one of the police detectives. Hostility permeated his hulking frame and psi-scent. It spiked the moment I spoke. That told me the detective was one of those wonderful people who knew that anyone living beyond the walls of a proper city were uneducated imbeciles. I figured he would be the most trouble. I looked at him from across the room. He toppled over as his chair was yanked out from under him by a careful telekinetic shove.
“First, because I’m a pretty strong psychic,” I growled at the detective. The detective angrily clawed his way off the floor and took a step towards me. A throaty warning growl came from Prince. The detective stopped immediately at the sight of a snarling Imperial war dog. Prince kept the detective from advancing, but the rage inside the detective continued to build. I kept my eyes on the detective, but I raised my voice to address the entire group. “We don’t have much time before this trail goes cold, so let me make this point up front. My name is Chief Warrant Officer Stahl of the Imperial Rangers. You may refer to me as ‘Chief,’ ‘Chief Stahl,’ or even ‘Ranger Stahl,’ because I am trying to be nice. I am up here because I know a sight more than any of you about what you thought you were dealing with and what you actually are. All of you have pretty much grown up within the relative safety of the New Town walls. What you’re dealing with now is something completely new for you. Centuries of proper psychological screening and adjusting within the cities have made severe psychological problems a thing of the past for you. Until now.” I waited a moment to see if any of them would do anything. I had their somewhat reluctant attention. Professionalism was beating out prejudice for the moment. I made sure that I was following suit and keeping the annoyance out of my voice.
“The target has not been psych screened,” I said, “My guess is that the target is most likely an aristocrat male.” A hand shot up from one of the OEM agents. I pointed at him to let him ask his question.
“Couldn’t this person just be an immigrant to the city?” he asked earnestly, “I’ve heard that some of the religious groups prohibit psych screening.”
“Good question, but no,” I answered, slightly relieved that my audience was taking this seriously enough to ask intelligent questions. Except for the first detective, the group’s professionalism was taking hold. Perhaps the NTPD could back up its reputation. “The fact that he’s eluded police means he’s very familiar with the city. The familiarity that comes with living here much of your life. Plus, all immigrants to the cities are psych screened, especially the children. Even religious groups are psych screened, just more subtly. The only natives that could have been able to avoid a psych screening would be someone in the aristocracy. Further, the nature of the attacks, combined with the psych aspects point to someone within the aristocracy.”
“So what, we question every person of noble blood?” asked the police detective I had hit earlier. His rage was still there, but it was being tempered at least. “Without something to narrow our pool down, we’ll raise all sorts of problems.” The police detective was an arrogant pain, but he was very correct. Not only would the noble class as a whole protest – and they had the ability to cause a lot of problems – but we would also tip off our perp that we were on to him.
“First, we can eliminate any of the female nobility,” I answered calmly, “The wounds could have only been caused by a male. This is a male who knows a great deal about aborigines. Probably fantasizes about them. He knows enough to think like them, which is what fooled all of your other professionals and psychics. He may also be a latent psychic.” That caused a stir amongst the crowd. If I was thinking straight, I would have been more gentle with that last bit, but I was too tired and trying too hard to get the information out to the collection of officers and agents so that they could actually do something with the information. Latent psychics were scary. They had all of this power with none of the years of training and indoctrination from the Psi-Academy. I tried to settle down all of anxiety that flooded the room.
“The good news is that I did manage to get his psi-scent,” I told the assembled professionals, “When I get close to him, or something he’s left his ghost on, I can track him.” There was a marginal improvement in the general attitude. An older detective stood up and came towards me. From the deference everyone else gave the detective, I figured he was either the head of the crime task force of the chief of detectives.
“How do you intend to proceed on this Ranger Stahl?” the man asked. I was a bit taken aback. I was just supposed to help. I wasn’t expecting to become one of the lead investigators. From the emotional reaction of the police officers, they hadn’t expected it either. My mind raced for a moment as I thought what needed to be done. I had the target’s psi-scent, but it would be difficult to track unless I had a fresh site. Getting close to the target would let me catch his scent, but narrowing down the pool was going to take some investigative work.
“First, I’ll have to find an aristocrat with a known interest in aborigines,” I began, “He may not be our target, but he would know the others within his circle of enthusiasts. That would give us a pool of suspects to investigate.” The older officer nodded, somewhat satisfied by the answer.
“If that’s the case, then our first stop should be NTU’s aboriginal studies department,” Detective Hagarty said, “The professors would know who to talk to.”
“Okay, both of you rack out in the crib and get over to the university first thing in the morning,” the older officer said. I followed Detective Hagarty to a small room with several cots. Each of the cots had a small foot locker. I unzipped my vest and placed it, my pistol, and my saber into the foot locker. I lay down on the cot and passed out before my head hit the pillow.
New Town University is one of the four most prestigious schools in the Empire. It is known for its strong science and mathematics departments, as well as its law school. With nearly three centuries of tradition, the walled campus exuded an air of assumed superiority. The aboriginal studies department occupied a small corner of Fleischman Hall, NTU’S liberal arts complex. The department was headed by a Dr. Strevas. He was a nervous mouse of a man who was surprised when an NTPD detective and an Imperial Ranger came knocking at his officer at the beginning of his day.
“What do the authorities want with me?” Dr. Strevas stammered. He had only opened the door enough for his gaunt frame to slip out. He brushed back his unruly black hair as his eyes darted between Det. Hagarty and me. “I’ve already told you everything I know about who the killer might be.” I sensed a deep shame in the doctor. He felt guilty about betraying the race he had studied for probably most of his life.
“Doctor, why don’t we take this talk into your office,” Det. Hagarty suggested with a friendly warmness, “We’ve uncovered some new information, and we’d like to talk to you about it.” Strevas didn’t want to talk to us at all from his psi-scent, but he didn’t seem to be able to think of a polite way of saying no. With a reluctant shrug, the doctor opened the door all the way and led us into his office. Ghosts immediate flooded my senses from the items that were carefully strewn around the room. One in particular practically screamed at me. I fixed my gaze on an aboriginal hunting knife lying in an opened parcel. With a delicate telekinetic touch, I lifted the knife up and gently levitated it over to me. The screaming ghost on the knife was the murdered girl from last night. The body in that darkened alleyway. As the knife floated closer, I sensed the killer’s ghost just under the girl’s ghost. This wasn’t the killing weapon. This was the knife that took the girl down and severed all the necessary muscles so she couldn’t escape or even hope to stop the killer from performing his atrocities. There was recently dried blood on the obsidian blade. The killer was taunting us.
“What are you doing?” screeched the doctor as I held the knife aloft in front of me, “That’s a very delicate specimen that I just received today!” The man was purple with apoplexy. Det. Hagarty stepped between Dr. Strevas and me.
“Where did you get that knife?” she asked in a calm, almost non-confrontational tone. The doctor looked at the detective for a brief moment and visibly settled down.
“One of my most prolific amateurs,” he answered haughtily, “He routinely sends me interesting pieces. That is an aboriginal hunting knife. They use it–”
“To kill small game or bleed larger animals,” I answered, my annoyance with Dr. Strevas flowing through my voice, “This one took down a young woman last night. That’s her blood on the blade.” I watched as the academic went from purple to the palest white. His emotions were a typhoon of conflict as he tried to grapple with what I had just told him to what he thought he knew.
“How did he get that knife?” the doctor stammered, mostly to himself. I wanted to push the point, but Det. Hagarty waved me back. I had interrogated dozens upon dozens of people in my career, but it didn’t bother me to let the detective take the lead. She knew the city and its people. The doctor continued to murmur to himself as he desperately tried to avoid the conclusion that was plainly in front of him. I scanned around the room, examining each of the ghosts. Three others were from the killer, each of them bound to weapons used to incapacitate the victim. The killing blade wasn’t in the office.
“Doctor, please, tell us who sent you these items,” Det. Hagarty said.
“I don’t remember the name of the man,” the doctor said, emotionally exhausted, “He just sends me these packages with no return address. I only met him once briefly at one of Lord Manattan’s benefit. I exchanged a few words, and forgot about him. Then, the items began turning up with notes describing where they came from. The man seemed to be on some sort of self-financed safari, visiting various tribes through the southern sectors. At least, that’s what I thought.” Dr. Strevas looked longingly at the floating knife. “You’re going to have to take all of them, aren’t you?”
“They’re evidence,” Detective Hagarty said sympathetically. She had a better game face than I did. The simpering academic was annoying me. I could feel his emotions. He had no sympathy for the victims. He was only worried about his precious collection of artifacts. I wanted to grab him and scream at him to quit whining and help us find the killer before he left us another victim. “I need you to help us get a description of the man who was sending you these items. We need to find him.”
“Oh, I can’t remember him very well,” the doctor whined, “He was taller than me, but that’s not unusual. I can’t remember his face at all.” Dr. Strevas face brightened. “I do remember his ring. It was large and made of Elf Gold with a purple stone. I’ve seen it before, but I don’t remember where.” I almost dropped the knife as the doctor described the ring. I knew what it was. I didn’t know exactly who the target was, but the pool had just shrunk considerably. I hoped Det. Hagarty had a nice dress.
“Eric, please introduce me to this exquisite woman escorting you,” my mother gushed as I made my way through the receiving line. Mom was a product of her aristocratic upbringing, and my constant lack of a private life was a continuing concern of hers. She was still hoping I would marry into the nobility and cement my ties there. Although she never said it to me, I knew that my half-common heritage bothered her ingrained sensibilities. Her marriage to my father had been arranged to cement an alliance between her noble family and my father’s commercial family. There had been a fondness and a respect between them, but no real passionate love. They hid it well for outward appearences, but there was no hiding it from their empathic son. I hid my grimace as I made the introductions. Mom was about to be disappointed again.
“May I intrroduce Vanessa Hagarty, Detective in the NTPD,” I said formally, “Detective, I present the Lady Manattan. Was that correct, Mom?” The last bit came out with a hint of sarcasm, but my mother let it slide. She knew I detested formal engagements, and that I had done my level best to not only hide my loathing but to actually feign some excitement. It was the least I could do for my sister’s engagement party.
“How do you do, Detective?” my mother beamed. Her husband, Stephen gave me an inquisitive look which was returned with a slight shake of my head. Stephen just smiled and warmly welcomed Det. Hagarty. At least Stephen knew why Det. Hagarty was with me. Although I had to admit, the detective surprised me when I told her that we would be attending my sister’s engagement party. Sometimes I forget that people aren’t only their professional side. So, where I was in the formal uniform of an Imperial Ranger, Det. Hagarty was in a black sequined gown that flowed easily as the detective glided alongside me. I didn’t want to know where she kept her sidearm.
“You didn’t tell me when you asked me here that Lord Manattan was your father,” the detective whispered to me as we walked into the crowded reception room.
“Stepfather, detective,” I corrected, “He’s the one who asked me to step in on the investigation.”
“For the evening, perhaps you should call me Vanessa,” she said with a smile. There wasn’t any intimacy in the gesture, just a professional courtesy.
“Okay, Vanessa,” I said, “I’m Eric. As to our job, our target isn’t here yet. He will be by the end of the night.” I looked around the room. There were dozens of psi-scents in the room, but none so far that matched our target.
“How can you be sure?” Vanessa asked, scanning the room.
“He’s one of Lord Manattan’s Chosen,” I said quietly. Vanessa tensed. The Chosen were hand-picked men and women who were supposed to help Lord Manattan maintain a well-run district. These were to be the leaders of the community that offered advice and executed specific directives from the lord. Most of them were in his closest circles of friends.
“Are you sure?” she asked, with a hint of hope that I wasn’t. Busting a Chosen for such a heinous crime wasn’t something a police officer looked forward to doing.
“Yes,” I answered, curtly “The ring that the doctor described resembles the ring used by the Chosen. Once I meet him and get his scent, we can take him down.”
“Why didn’t you warn Lord Manattan?” Vanessa asked, clearly concerned.
“Our target’s most likely a latent psychic,” I explained, “Warning anyone might have spooked him. This is our best chance at catching the target.” Vanessa shrugged her shoulders noncommittally, but I sensed that I convinced her. I took another step when a streak came out of the corner of my eye and slammed into me.
“ERIC!” shrieked my sister as she plowed into me. Sissy was easily twenty centimeters shorter than me and maybe sixty kilos soaking wet, but she had an inexhaustible supply of energy and the kinetics of a hyper-charged gas molecule. I hugged her and kissed the top of her head as she squeezed for all she was worth. Sissy wasn’t happy if I didn’t come away from one of her hugs without sore ribs. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it down here.”
“Now why would you say that?” I asked.
“You missed both of my graduations, my coming out party,” Sissy droned, counting the events off on her fingers. I couldn’t tell if she was being serious or sarcastic. She had a bit of latent psychic in her. Not enough to manifest actual powers, but enough to shield her mind and emotions from me. She gave me a mischievous smile before I could reply. “I know, you were busy doing your Ranger thing. Duty and all that. Somehow I’m just not surprised you came in your uniform. At least your date has better sense.”
“Sissy, this is Detective Vanessa Hagarty,” I said, taking the unspoken cue, “Vanessa, my sister, the honorable Sarah Stahl, half of the guests of honor.” The two ladies warmly clasped hands and exchanged pleasantries. “And for the record, I’m wearing my best formal uniform.”
“So you two are working the aborigine case?” Sissy asked, ignoring my comment. Vanessa’s face went to a professional neutral, but her emotions were radiating with surprise. Sissy didn’t seem to notice Vanessa’s change in demeanor as she whirled on me. “You couldn’t just come to my party. You had to bring your work into this.”
“Quit the martyr act, Sissy,” I replied sternly, “I know you better than that.” She just grinned mischievously again and waved over to a group of people. A tall man stood up from the group and approached us. As he confidently strode over to us, he ran his fingers through his immaculately coiffed hair. It seemed more a dramatic move, something to impress the lesser people around him. His psi-scent reeked of calm, self-assuredness, but his green eyes were warm and pleasant. Sissy barreled into the man with even more ferocity than she had with me. Logical conclusion – this man was the fiancé.
“Kevin Murdock, Lord of Liberty Hall,” the man said, extending his hand. I gripped the hand and found a firm and controlled handshake. “I’ve been eager to meet you Eric, may I call you Eric?”
“As a brother-in-law, sure,” I answered, “Anything from your lordship persona, it’ll be Ranger Stahl.” He laughed at my small poke at the aristocratic quirk of titled personas. “This is my colleague, Detective Vanessa Hagarty.” Kevin and Vanessa continued the ritual by exchanging handshakes and greetings.
“Actually Eric, all of the Firsts have been eagerly awaiting your arrival,” Kevin said as he and Sissy led Vanessa and I back towards the group of people Kevin had been sitting with.
“The Firsts?”
“We are the Firsts,” a slim man answered as we neared, “We are nobles who are the finest talents in our respective fields. Kevin, for instance, is the best in business.” I looked askance at my sister’s fiancé. I wasn’t as involved in my family’s firm as they wanted, but I did try and keep up with current business news. Lord Liberty Hall was a rising star and accomplished beginner, but not the best. Not by a long shot. From his psi-scent he knew it too – and didn’t care. I directed my attention back to the slim man who had mentioned a couple of others in the group. “As for myself, I am Ricardo Vega, the finest swordsman in the Empire.”
His comment caught me flat. I looked up and down Vega’s wiry frame, but there were none of the accoutrements that would follow his claim. Vega was wearing a tight suit of bright blues contrasted with light grey highlights – a style favored by the younger nobility. At his left hip, he wore an impressive-looking rapier. I could feel his curiosity building as I studied him. His eyes were begging me to say what was going through my mind. After a brief moment of continued study, I couldn’t contain my curiosity any further.
“Where’s your unit pin?” I asked. “Where did you serve?”
“My what?” Vega asked, somewhat startled. It obviously wasn’t the question he was anticipating.
“Your unit pin,” I answered calmly as I felt his emotions rise, “And why are you wearing a rapier instead of a gladius?” Indignation flowed through Vega as I questioned him.
“Eric, I am one of the Firsts,” he replied as if that were an answer in and of itself. Fortunately, he elaborated before I had to ask for clarification. “Each of us has dedicated years to their art to attain perfection. I have not had time for military service.”
“Oh, I see now. You’re a fencer,” I said, “Would you be so kind as to stop referring to yourself as a swordsman? It’s insulting to those of us who actually are.” There was sharp gasps surrounding me, and I felt the shock of my statement roll through the nearby persons. Vega’s indignation bloomed into pure anger at my words. The rapier came out in a rapid flourish. Vega was good. Of that I had no doubt.
“Perhaps you’d like me to prove my swordsmanship?” he menaced. A quick jab was blocked as my saber came out of its sheath. The crowd around us backed off into a perimeter. Although duels in the middle of a function were uncommon, everyone knew the etiquette. The problem was, I didn’t want to fight Vega. He was just being stupid, not maliciously dishonorable. I didn’t want to kill him for just being stupid.
“Stop this,” I said as I deflected another lunge, “I don’t want to fight you.” A slash came to my middle section. A step back and a sweeping block stopped it. I could have just hit the arrogant twerp with a strong enough telekinetic punch to knock him out, but it just didn’t occur to me at the time. This was being made into a matter of honor, and matters of honor were handled by swords. Even amongst those of us who weren’t nobles.
“Coward,” Vega spat as he advanced for another attack. For nobles, the insult would have been enough for the duel to become serious. I was willing to let the insult slide if it meant the fight ended. Then it happened. It had been a simple block to knock away a lunging strike. Then Vega rotated the point on his sword until the tip of the rapier caught on my chest. There was a rip of fabric and I saw my service sigil torn from my uniform. His emotions told me it had been deliberate. The nature of the incident turned in an instant.
“I’m sorry, sir. I guess I’m a better swordsman than you,” Vega said with an insulting tone.
“Young man, that was a deliberate insult,” I replied, “Not to me, but to anyone who has worn my uniform. That cannot be ignored. You wanted a duel. You have it sir.” Everyone heard me issue a formal challenge. The crowd surrounding the two of us took a collective step back. Except for one man who walked forward. From his emotions, he was as furious as I was over Vega’s actions. He had good reason. He was John Tall, Lord Vallon, the commandant of Imperial Security. Needless to say, I was surprise and slightly intimidated by his presence.
“Ranger Stahl, may I ask to be your second?” Commadant Tall asked. Vanessa and Sissy joined the two of us as I began removing my red overtunic. It took me a moment to recover from the shock his request sent through me.
“My lord, it would be an honor,” I answered handing the commandant my saber. I had been put on reserve status and almost expelled from the Rangers because of a spat with the Empire’s hero. For Commandant Tall to offer to be my second meant that my sins were publicly forgiven. I was golden again. I turned to Sissy. “How important is Vega to your wedding?”
“Please don’t kill him,” Sissy said, “I’d like him to be able to walk. Beyond that, I’ll have the photographers take care of.” I nodded grimly. I could feel Vega’s confidence and glee behind me. He was very good with his rapier, and he knew it. He supposedly had most of the advantages. His rapier was a longer and faster weapon than my saber, and Vega had the speed and training to use those advantages. That said, I still had a few things in my favor. I turned to face him.
My stepfather Stephen stepped between the two of us. He was the host of the party, so by custom, the officiator of the duel. I thought Stephen would have ordered us out, but I saw him glance at my silver sigil still lying on the tile floor. The offense to those who had served was too great, and Lord Manattan knew it. Still, he had to give us a chance to back down. “Gentlemen, I ask you, can this be satisfied no other way?”
“No, my lord,” I answered with a deadly tone coloring the words.
“No, my lord,” Vega mimicked. He was too calm. He was expecting the same duel he always fought. Vega was in for some surprises. Both of us took our stances. His was relaxed with a deadly energy hidden behind it. Mine was the one my grandfather taught me – small profile with the tip of the blade relaxed at eye level.
“Very well,” Stephen answered, “Gentlemen, you may begin at your leisure.” The room fell silent as Vega and I stared at each other. The psychological part of the duel started. Each of us waited for the other to strike, trying to find that tell that signaled the commitment to action. Here, I had the advantage. Vega could control his body, even the look in his eyes to disguise his tells. He couldn’t hide his emotions. I just waited.
Long moments continued to drag on, and I could feel the frustration and curiosity build inside Vega. He wasn’t used to dealing with someone with more patience than himself. Frustration turned to anger, and he launched an incredibly fast strike. Excellent.
The crashing sound of steel upon steel echoed through the chamber. Astonishment and discomfort flowed through Vega as I hammered his rapier with my much heavier saber. It wasn’t a simple parry. I was deliberately attacking his sword. Vega was confused by my actions and launched another lunge. Again, the saber slammed down on the thin blade.
Four more times Vega attacked. Each time, I attacked his sword. The duel was not going as Vega expected. After the fifth attack, Vega was holding his rapier a little more gingerly. A weak slash at my side was simply batted away by my gloved hand. “Come on Vega, I thought you were going to show me what a great little fencer you are.”
Vega’s rage flared through him and he drew himself into a new stance with his rapier aimed at me like a lance. I smiled as the younger man smoldered. The final part of this duel was about to start, and Vega was going to learn the difference between a fencer and a swordsman.
The rapier shot out at me with a speed I wasn’t expecting. Vega was very good. I almost didn’t block the attack. Almost. I pivoted back and twisted my saber downward to catch the rapier on the curve of my blade. My free hand grasped Vega’s forearm and yanked the young man towards me. His eyes went wide in startled terror. Hand to hand combat just wasn’t done in formal duels – by fencers. I rolled my blade up, using the curve. The point came up level with Vega’s quivering eye. It hovered there for the briefest of moments. Then, I struck. The blade came down, altered just before impact so that I struck him in his nose with the curved pommel. Blood splattered across my forearm and undertunic as Vega reeled back from the blow. Vega slammed back onto the tile floor, blood coursing out of his broken nose. He was alive, but his pretty face was marred for life. I could live with that.
One of the Firsts came running out of the crowd and cradled Vega’s head in her lap. I swallowed a laugh as she shot me a glare of pure venom. As the crowd dispersed, Sissy, Vanessa, and the commandant walked over. The commandant graciously offered me his handkerchief to clean Vega’s blood from my sword.
“Very nicely done, Chief,” Commandant Tall said, “I’m not a fan of dueling myself – bloody, messy work – but this was exactly how one should turn out.” Sissy gave the commandant an arched look as he handed me my service sigil.
“If you hate duels so much Commandant, why would you second?” Sissy asked. Both the commandant and Vanessa froze and stared at Sissy momentarily. Sissy understood some of the basics about honor, but she didn’t understand why certain matters beyond defending life and property of Imperial citizens and allies were worth risking life and limb. Matters like the honor of a service and disrespect of the uniform of the Empire were completely beyond her.
“Sissy, this is one of those things,” I told her, mussing her hair with a familial gesture. She responded with her normal glare that held no maliciousness. It was an understanding between the two of us. Her fiancé approached us with well-concealed caution. Commandant Tall made his excuses and returned to the throng of guests awaiting his attention.
“Well, that went differently than I expected,” Murdock mused as his arm possessively circled Sissy’s waist. There was an odd sense of surprise and satisfaction in Murdock’s psi-scent. He had expected Vega to make short work of me, but was glad that I didn’t kill the fop. Sissy didn’t notice the sentiment behind Murdock’s words, but Vanessa did. She hid it well, but I could tell Vanessa didn’t like Murdock.
“It’s a good thing our mentor isn’t here,” Murdock said, “Vega was one of his favorites. Actually, I’m quite surprised he isn’t here. He’s one of Lord Manattan’s Chosen.” Vanessa and I exchanged a look. Things suddenly clicked.
“Is your mentor an aborigine expert?” Vanessa asked.
“I don’t know about expert, but he’s certainly an enthusiast,” Murdock said, “He does have a fascinating collection of artifacts.”
“Name,” I demanded. Murdock looked at me in confusion. One word demands were somewhat foreign to the nobility. It tended to throw their mental processes into confusion if there weren’t flowery phrases of appreciation or respect in the request. “I need the name of your mentor.”
“Lord Chamberlain,” Murdock answered, still confused and somewhat offended by what he considered my effrontery to the traditions of polite society.
“Vanessa?”
“Already on it,” she said, and I could hear her shoes clack away as she went to find a telephone. I looked down at my sister. She had that familiar half-smile on her face. She might not understand why I do everything that I do, but she always understands that I need to do it.
“Go chase down your lead,” Sissy told me in a warm tone, “I’ll keep Kevin’s friends from giving Chamberlain advance notice. Could you do me a favor?”
“What?”
“Could you at least try to make it to the church tomorrow? Say about ten o’clock?” Sissy’s voice was light and humorous, but I could see the slight pleading. She had always shown up for my events, but I had missed so many if hers. I knew it wasn’t fair, and I even felt guilty about it on occasion. I bent down and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“I’ll do my best,” I told her. It was the best I could tell her. Her nod in response told me she knew it also.
I pulled the brim of my Stetson down and watched as the water cascaded in front of my eyes. The momentary obscuring of my vision let me focus on the faint psi-scent I was tracking. Chamberlain was in the Lord’s Park – and he knew he was being hunted. He was dangerous, as two wounded soldiers from the battle inside the apartment attested. As the rain pelted down, I wished again that we had managed to apprehend Chamberlain in his apartment. It would have made my life a lot easier.
When we left the party, Vanessa called her superior, and I retrieved Prince from the Keep’s kennel. If we were going to apprehend a dangerous suspect, I wanted my dog with me. Just the sight of a growling Prince could smooth out an unstable situation. Stephen provided us with a car and driver so we didn’t have to waste time procuring one. Vanessa handed the driver – a PFC Goku of Stephen’s security force – an address and briefed me on the police side of things.
“The chief of detectives is trying to get us a warrant,” Vanessa said as Goku sped out of the compound with the skill of a circuit driver, “He might have it when we get there, but it’s going to depend on the judge. Our probable cause is a little shaky.” Her psi-scent told me she was just as frustrated with the possibility as I was, but she didn’t know how she could legally circumvent probable cause. I did.
“Goku, you got a radio handy?” I asked our driver as he deftly weaved through the densely packed streets. Without even looking back, he handed me a handset. I clapped him on the shoulder. “Would you do me a favor and get this on OEM’s frequency?”
“This is Chief Stahl calling for Major Shota,” I called as soon as Goku gave me a thumbs up. The radio crackled for a moment and then Shota’s weary voice came on.
“What do you need Chief?” Shota asked.
“I need a platoon of Imperial Security to Lord Chamberlain’s residence in the city,” I answered as Vanessa looked at me confused. “Solid intel he’s our target.”
“Understood. Second Platoon will be waiting for you,” Shota said.
“Don’t wait for us,” I almost yelled into the handset, “Tell the lieutenant to secure Lord Chamberlain, and to do it fast. Any delay, and we’ll lose him.”
“Okay,” Shota answered, “I’m going to head down there to help coordinate.” Shota was experienced enough to know that his presence as Lord Manattan’s representative would deflect some of the problems we were about to cause. I handed back the handset and let Goku do his job. Vanessa was glowering at me with a psi-scent that was angrier than when she had first met me at the crime scene.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, “We can’t build a case if you send in the troops. They’ll compromise evidence, trample enough of his rights–”
“Detective, I’m not trying to build a case and I never was,” I interrupted, “You’ve been collecting evidence. I’ve been collecting intelligence. You’ve been trying to arrest a perp. I’m here to stop a threat and take out a target.” She collapsed back into her seat, radiating betrayal. I should have expected her reaction. At her very core, she was a police officer. At my core, I’m a soldier.
The street in front of Lord Chamberlain’s apartment complex was crammed with police cars and the armored troop carriers of Imperial Security. Uniformed police were busy evacuating the bystanders, but I couldn’t see any of the Imperial Security soldiers. As I stepped out of the car, an angry plainclothes officer and Major Shota began to approach. Goku turned and told me, “Chief, the major said he left some things for in the trunk.”
Det. Hagarty left to speak with her superior as I walked back to the open trunk. Prince followed obediently behind me. Major Harding – the head of Stephan’s security force – had thoughtfully packed my riding vest, a working shirt, Prince’s barding, and my carbine with spare magazines. Prince held still as I quickly dressed him in the steel, cotton, and nylon armor. I carefully removed my tunic, put on the work shirt, and zipped up my riding vest. I slipped the spare magazines into their holders. I slung my carbine and walked back to where Det. Hagarty was talking with the plainclothes officer and Major Shota. The two police detectives were furious while Shota was just annoyed. Det. Hagarty turned and glared at me as I approached.
“Your soldiers came crashing through the front doors, got into a firefight with Chamberlain’s bodyguards, and let him escape,” Det. Hagarty thundered.
“Where’d he go?” I asked in response, completely ignoring the venom in the woman’s voice. There were more important things to deal with.
“Into the park,” she answered, even more furious that I was ignoring her anger and her barbs. Lord’s Park was a three kilometer long by one kilometer wide tract of cultivated ground that had gardens, small forests, as well as the Lord’s Zoo and Museum. It was a parcel of nature in the urban environment. Many of the aristocracy and wealthy merchants had their homes on the streets surrounding the park. From what I could see, Chamberlain climbed out the back of the building and literally jumped into the park from three stories up. Suicidal for a normal human. Somewhat easier for a latent psychic that must have manifested some telekinesis. Tracking Lord Chamberlain in there wasn’t going to be easy. Then it became even harder as the cold rain began to pelt down on the collected police and Imperial Security.
“Major, Detective, get whatever personnel you can muster together,” I said, “I’m going to find Chamberlain’s scent.” The two detectives were about to erupt at what they believed was a casual dismissal, but the major firmly pulled them off to the side. Good thing too, because I had some major work to do. I stepped into the entrance of the park next to Lord Chamberlain’s building. Dropping my mental blocks, I quickly found that bizarre psi-scent. He did jump down from the window of his apartment with the use of telekinesis, but he wasn’t using it as he ran into a large forested area behind the building. His psi-scent became muted as it entered the forest. Chamberlain knew he was being hunted, and his latent psi-abilities were obfuscating him from psychic detection. I wasn’t sure if he was doing it deliberately or just on pure instinct.
“I’ve got his trail,” I shouted over to the assembled leadership. Shota directed a squad of Imperial Security to accompany me. Det. Hagarty and a squad’s worth of heavily-armed SWAT police officers also joined us. With Prince following at my heels, I led the combined force into the forest.
Tracking Chamberlain through the forest was difficult. His psi-scent was faint, and Chamberlain knew the terrain. On top of all that, the darkness and the rain cut down visibility and made everyone uncomfortable. After a couple hundred meters, I kneeled down to get a better fix on Chamberlain. I tipped my Stetson and let the rain water cascade down. A private moved in close as I was searching for Chamberlain, guarding me as I looked out at the forest, deciding on how to chase Chamberlain. The psi-scent suddenly picked up and the soldier next to me toppled back. I felt his psi-scent fade to a ghost as I saw the arrow sticking out of the now-dead soldier’s neck. The fletching looked similar to an aborigine’s. A second arrow whistled down at me, and then hit the ground as it was deflected by a telekinetic shield. The soldiers around me began firing wildly into the forest as they saw one of their own fall. Chamberlain’s psi-scent muted back down as the bullets whipped past me.
I held up my hand and the firing stopped. Hand signals told the soldiers to spread out and hold their positions. I stood up from my kneeled position and slung my carbine. The soldiers were confused. All tactical doctrine for being under fire was to keep low and move in cautiously. The problem was those tactics were for orcs or goblins, even some humans. Chamberlain may have been physically a human, but he was thinking and fighting like an aborigine. I needed to get in and finish this before Chamberlain picked off the soldiers with his bow. My saber was in my right hand and my pistol gripped firmly in my left. Telekinetic shield in place, I rushed into the forest.
I felt his psi-scent spike again as another arrow lanced out at me. He was up in a tree about thirty meters ahead of me. As the arrow harmlessly splintered on my invisible shield, I launched myself into the air. My first glimpse of Chamberlain was a short, lithe man completely covered in painted markings from the various aborigine tribes and wearing a rough leather belt. Chamberlain was holding a bone bow and had a long knife and tomahawk on his belt. My attack startled him, but none of it showed on his face as he quickly drew and loosed another arrow at me. I deflected the arrow with a small telekinetic shield, and then dropped my shield entirely as I landed next to him. I couldn’t sense if he had his telekinetics up, and I couldn’t risk a bio-feedback if our two shields hit each other. With latents, there was no telling who would recover first.
My saber came down in a slash at his right shoulder. It bounced off an invisible shield about twenty centimeters above his shoulder. The tip of his bow shot out at me, and I retreated a few steps back on the thick branch as I parried with a sweep of my pistol. An unexpected telekinetic punch slammed into my stomach, and I could feel myself falling as I desperately tried to breathe. Survival instinct and years of training snapped into place, and my own telekinesis began slowing my four meter fall. I brought up my pistol and rapidly fired five rounds across Chamberlain’s form. He leapt down from the tree branch as the eleven millimeter rounds buried themselves into the tree.
We faced each other on the leaf-covered dirt ground of the forest. Chamberlain dropped his bow and was now facing me with both his long knife and his tomahawk. Chamberlain’s psi-scent vanished as his latent abilities managed to slam down with an impressive mental barricade. There was a moment of silence as the two of us evaluated the other. Chamberlain launched at me using his telekinesis to hurtle himself over the short distance. I sidestepped his attack, deflecting his tomahawk with my pistol and countering with a slash of my saber. Again my saber bounced harmlessly off of Chamberlain’s invisible shield. My God, if Chamberlain had been properly trained, he would have been one of the strongest psychics in the Empire. Chamberlain whirled on me. I caught the tomahawk on my saber, but my pistol swept passed his long knife as he jinked it at the last moment. Adrenaline dulled the flash of pain as the knife raked across my thigh. It was a nasty cut, but as I fell back a few paces, it didn’t seem to have cut any muscles. It just hurt and bled.
Chamberlain danced forward with a lightning strike that was easily deflected. With the clang of our weapons, Chamberlain danced right back beyond the reach of my saber. This was pure aborigine. Bleed out a stronger opponent and wear him down with a flurry of attacks. It worked best with groups of aborigines, but it would work well enough for Chamberlain against me. As strong as Chamberlain was, I really didn’t want to risk the shock of bio-feedback. It would knock me out too long, and the chance of him escaping was far too high. For some reason, latents could recover a lot faster from the shock than trained psychics. Another two attacks were fended off, but not without a new cut along my forearm. My counters kept bouncing off the telekinetic shield that was guarding his back. I had one other card to play.
Chamberlain grinned savagely as I staggered forward. He took a single step and bounded at me with the tomahawk held high. I gave a short whistle as my stance straightened. The grin on Chamberlain’s face slipped to slight confusion – and then outright terror as Prince erupted out of the forest. Prince’s powerful jaws clamped onto Chamberlain’s leg. With Prince anchoring him to the ground, Chamberlain slammed into the dirt. To his credit, Chamberlain held onto his weapons. Chamberlain swung his tomahawk at Prince. The crude blade bit into Prince’s side, but it couldn’t get past the hardened metal plate of Prince’s barding. I grinned as Prince ignored the strike and clamped down harder, and then shook for all of his might. Chamberlain completely forgot about me as he desperately tried to escape Prince’s ferocious maw. Bless whoever trained the Imperial attack dogs. I brought my pistol up and gently squeezed the trigger. Three rounds tore through Chamberlain’s exposed torso, completely shredding his internal organs and throwing him on his back. I felt Chamberlain’s psi-scent flare with pain and shock, and then fade to an angry and bizzare ghost.
“We’re clear,” I yelled to the waiting soldiers and police officers. Armored Imperial Security soldiers circled around me within moments of me calling all clear. A medic appeared beside me and began inspecting my wounds. Adrenaline began to fade out of my system, and my body finally let me fully feel the pain of my injuries. Crushing pain flooded my mind, and then was exacerbated as the Imperial Security medic began cleaning and inspecting the wounds on my thigh and forearm. I could feel her sympathy as my face grimaced from the pain. A stretcher was unfolded, and I gratefully laid down onto the canvas. Prince happily jogged over and sat down next to me. I just scratched him on top of his head, a wordless communication of how pleased I was with the dog’s bravery.
“No one move,” came a forceful order as New Town police officers stormed into the area, “This is now a crime scene.” The speaker was the plainclothes officer that had been with Detective Hagarty earlier. I was at the point of adrenaline withdrawal and pain where getting up and forcefully or physically confronting the officer seemed like a good idea. Fortunately, the medic prevented any such foolishness by the simple application of morphine. As I succumbed to the pleasant darkness of unconsciousness, I could see Imperial Security and NTPD doing their familiar dance of authority.
For the record, I absolutely hate getting injured. Minor injuries I can handle. Years of being abused in training schools and out on the open grasslands of my home sector made it perfectly clear that minor, and not-so-minor, pain was just part of my life as an Imperial Ranger. The gashes on both my thigh and my forearm were much deeper than I thought. Both required some heavy stitching, and it was going to take at least six weeks of light duty before I would be back to my normal self.
I didn’t make it to Sissy’s wedding ceremony. I spent most of the morning recovering from having my gashes sewn up. By the middle of the day, I was feeling good enough to try and move about. Nice thing about being a telekinetic, I didn’t have to use a crutch. I was listening to a nurse berate me for being out of bed when Commandant Tall walked into my room. His face was stern, but his emotions were laughing as he surveyed the scene. Rangers do not let injuries deter us from our duty.
“Chief Warrant!” barked the commandant. Out of pure drilled-in reflex, I straightened to attention. Commandant Tall turned to the stunned nurse. “Nurse, please excuse us.” She took one look at the Commandant’s face and quickly exited the room.
“You, Chief, are out of uniform and are in dereliction of your duty,” the Commandant said in a grave voice that masked the humor dancing in his emotions. He was playing at something, but I wasn’t sure what. Chief Warrant Rangers let their commandant play out his games.
“As to the uniform issue, sir, I can honestly plead that the hospital staff destroyed what uniform I had when they were fixing me,” I explained in my most respectful tone, “As to the other matter, I can only plead ignorance as to which duty I’m in dereliction of.” The commandant circled me, taking a careful appraisal of my bandaged arms.
“Your duty to your family should be one of your highest duties,” Commandant Tall said, “Especially since you’ve already fulfilled your duties to your Emperor. James, come in please.” A short, thin man dressed in a formal suit walked into the hospital room with a new dress uniform draped over his arms. “Yes, the New Town Police were very annoyed with you. Something about ‘calling out the stormtroopers and completely ruining a crime scene.’ The police do tend to forget that we’re soldiers. We don’t usually prosecute our targets in a court of law. We prosecute our targets on the field of battle.” There was a moment of silence between us as we both pondered the familiar discrepancy. Opponents of the Empire used that far too often as a means of discrediting the Throne for being a callous dictatorship. Truth to be told, Rangers and the rest of Imperial Security were constantly reminded by our superiors to only usurp the police forces of the Empire when there was a credible threat to the Empire or its allies. Commandant Tall, Major Shota, myself, and others knew that Chamberlain threatened the presence of the Stone Walkers. Those aborigines sacrificed everything they knew to help the Empire against our enemies, the Dark Towers. If the Stone Walkers were exiled or executed in New Town – where the aborigine religious cult was first accepted – then the few other Stone Walker groups in other cities would leave and the movement would fail. This was a threat to the Empire itself, so I had no compunctions about taking direct and violent action against Chamberlain. I did wish that it hadn’t strained the already cool relations between NTPD and Imperial Security.
“Now as to your duty, your stepfather and I have made sure that you had a proper dress uniform,” Commandant Tall said, gesturing to the clothing in James’ arms, “And I am lending you the services of my personal steward to assist you. You’ve managed to miss the ceremony, but you will not miss the reception. Is that clear?”
“Yes Commandant,” I answered, snapping to full attention. I picked up the red tunic from James’ waiting arms. I immediately noticed that the four silver circles of a chief warrant were missing. I felt the emotional spike of hesitant wariness from the Commandant as he saw me notice the absent rank.
“Ah yes, that.” Commandant Tall paused for a moment. “Against our long traditions, and over my vehement protests, the Ministry of Defense has decided that it wants a formal school for the Imperial Rangers. The details are still being sorted out, but I still need to have a teaching cadre ready. I managed to fill most of the slots, but I’m short a lieutenant.” He held up his hand sharply before I could voice my refusal. “I already know your personal reservations, but I will not let you refuse this commission. First, because I need Rangers with a variety of experiences instructing our recruits. You’ve served in just about every environment we Rangers encounter. Second, you are one of the few psychics amongst our ranks. I need your unique perspective to help train the instructors and to assist the new cadets that have psychic abilities. Finally, if I’m being forced to stop centuries of tradition that has served this branch well, then I am going to make it very painful for them by appointing the one Ranger they truly despise to the training cadre.” I grimaced, but the commandant was correct in his points. I was doubtful that I was the best person to train and mold cadets into Rangers, but the commandant was confident. I nodded wordlessly to Commandant Tall. I didn’t trust my voice at that moment. My own emotions were too cyclonic for me to be anywhere near coherent. I just stood there as James helped me into my new uniform. Tall and Stephen had outdone themselves – it fit better than my old one and was more comfortable. I would never admit it to either man, but I appreciated that they really had spared no expense in the manufacture of my mess dress. Even Rangers known for their hard edges, like myself, enjoy the occasional pampering – although we would never say so and hammer down anyone that did.
Commandant Tall handed me my saber and pistol while James handed me my worn Stetson. Standing at attention, Commandant Tall attached the gold bars of a lieutenant to my epaulets. Appropriately dressed, I formed a telekinetic crutch and walked out with the two men. The nurses were none too happy about me leaving until I showed the head nurse that I wasn’t putting any more strain on my injuries. Sometimes being a psychic was useful.
The reception was being held at the New Town Museum of Art. Sissy was an art aficionado, much like our mother. The Museum was a sprawling complex of exquisite glass and stone. I knew from conversations with Sissy and my mother it was considered a jewel of architecture. In short, it was the perfect place for Sissy’s reception. As I walked into the main gallery, I could see meters and meters of satin and lace ribbons and banners. The guests were milling about with glasses of champagne and small plates of hors d’ovuers. James whispered to the doorman as we entered the gallery.
“Announcing Lord Vallon, Commandant Imperial Rangers and Lieutenant Stahl, Imperial Rangers.” Heads turned towards us, and I felt the surge of surprise that shot through the crowd. The upper strata of society were surprised that I was being rewarded for killing one of their own. The surprise melted to disdain as they collectively remembered that I also atrociously injured one of their favorite sons. As I half-hobbled into the room, Sissy emerged from the crowd with her normal burst of uncontained energy. I just smiled as she slammed into my sore body. As I stood there with Sissy, her new husband, and Commandant Tall, the disdain of the crowd became muted.
“I was worried you’d be hiding behind your injuries when I didn’t see you at the ceremony,” Sissy said with a mocking tone. I gave her a level look, to which she just laughed.
“Be fair Sissy,” I said, “These aren’t minor things. I had to spend the whole morning in the hospital before the commandant could spring me.” She gave me a mischievous smile in response. I bent down and kissed her lightly on the cheek and whispered into my sister’s ear, “I’m about to do something that’s going to upset your new husband.”
As I stood back up, I looked my new brother-in-law in the eye. My face went from smiling to slightly menacing. It was a mask that I learned from experienced Rangers. It was the do-not-even-attempt-to-screw-with-me look we used on bandits, freetowners, and adolescents. Kevin wilted quickly under my gaze. “Let me make something clear. I do not hold you personally responsible for Lord Chamberlain’s actions. That said, I have a strong suspicion that his position as patron of the Firsts shielded him.”
“We did no such–” Kevin began to protest. My glare cut him off in midsentence. I could feel Kevin’s anger turn to fear as the silence between us stretched out. I could see him brace. He really thought I was going to hit him. Too much television.
“I was talking, so you will stay quiet,” I stated, “You and the Firsts let your privilege get the better of you. You and yours lived in a sense of denial. That comes to an end now. Something is happening. Something big, and you and yours are going to help. The military will need all of the support it can get, and you will be on the forefront.” Kevin didn’t like what I was telling him, but he agreed. He knew that there was something going on – something that the Human Empire wasn’t fully aware of, but threatening its existence. He made no further protest. He just simply nodded and walked back to his new wife. Sissy just gave me a knowing nod and escorted Kevin back to where the Firsts were waiting with an anxious fear. Kevin would let them know. Commandant Tall and I knew that if the Human Empire were to survive its next challenge, the aristocrats would have to stand firmly behind the throne. Some of us just needed to push them in the right direction.