Chapter 50 - For The Empire

  Commander Trask tugged at his uniform as he entered his office, idly musing that he needed to have it adjusted again. Stress eating was not a habit that lent itself to a slim waistline – who knew?

  To his disgruntled surprise, Agent Falk was already sitting in a chair across from his desk, tapping away at a dataslate. Trask turned to Liera with an eyebrow raised reproachfully. She gave him an apologetic look in return, though it rang a little hollow.

  ‘What’s the point of a secretary that doesn’t screen my visitors?’ he grumbled in the privacy of his mind, crossing the room and sinking gratefully into his chair.

  “Commander,” Falk said, his voice clipped and formal, but notably not waiting for him to speak first. “I assume you have pressing concerns to warrant this meeting.”

  Ah. So it looked like they were dispensing with the pretence of politeness. Good.

  “You could say that,” he replied acerbically, tone just shy of outright rude. “The lockdown you’ve instituted is crippling this station. I need to know your reasoning.”

  Falk didn’t blink. “My reasoning is classified, Commander. Your cooperation in this matter has been noted, but it’s unnecessary to burden you with operational specifics.”

  Trask gaped. “Burden me with operational specifics?” he spluttered. This was well beyond just dispensing with politeness – this was borderline ignoring the chain of command entirely. “Now look here, Agent,” he leaned forward in his chair, “You may have a certain degree of leeway when it comes to ‘classified matters’.” the air quotes were audible, as was the sarcasm in his tone. “But that doesn’t mean you can just run roughshod over my command. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the one managing the fallout from your decisions. Every hour this lockdown continues, it strains resources and inflames tensions among the civilian population. The longer it goes on, the harder it will be to control.”

  Even Imperial Intelligence had to at least pay lip service to the idea that the Empire existed to benefit its citizens.

  Falk tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And yet, you’ve done an admirable job so far. As I’ve said, the situation is under control.”

  At this point Trask was thinking that the Agent was trying to get a rise out of him. Very well, then.

  “I don’t know how you managed to assume control of our automated traffic systems, not to mention the orbital defence grid,” Trask began, enunciating his words carefully, “but I do know you don’t have the authority to maintain it without proper justification. And if you think I’m going to let you bypass me indefinitely, you’re sorely mistaken.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not how this works,” Falk replied smoothly, setting the dataslate down and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “The chain of command in situations like these flows directly from the Imperial Centre. My orders are absolute.”

  Trask’s eyes narrowed. “Orders without context invite chaos. You know that as well as I do.”

  Falk’s expression didn’t waver. “What I know, Commander, is that I’m here to ensure a crisis doesn’t escalate. And for that, I require absolute control.”

  “Control you’ve exercised like a sledgehammer,” Trask shot back. “Do you have any idea what you’re asking of me? What I’ve had to do to keep this station running under your restrictions?”

  “That’s your job, isn’t it?” Falk replied, his tone icy. “To adapt, to maintain order.”

  Trask’s patience snapped. He slammed his fist onto the desk, the sound echoing through the room. “And your job is to work with me, not undermine me! If you think I’m going to sit here and let you dismantle this station’s operations without even a shred of transparency, you’re delusional!”

  For the first time, Falk’s calm demeanour cracked. His jaw tightened, and his eyes hardened as he straightened in his seat. “Commander,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, “you are stepping dangerously close to insubordination. I would advise you to reconsider your tone.”

  Trask leaned forward, his voice a growl. “And I would advise you to remember that you are a long way from the halls of Imperial Intelligence. If you think your rank puts you above accountability, think again. If you continue to push me on this, I will have you arrested and thrown in a cell before you can blink. I still have enough friends in the core worlds to make your life very interesting.”

  The room fell into a tense silence, the air thick with unspoken threats. Finally, Falk broke it with a faint chuckle, though it held no humour. “Bold words, Commander. But threats won’t earn you the answers you’re looking for.”

  “No,” Trask agreed coldly. “But they might remind you that I’m not a man to be trifled with.”

  Falk rose from his seat, his movements unhurried but deliberate. “You’ve made your position clear, Commander. And I’ve made mine. The lockdown stands. For now, that’s all you need to know.”

  As Falk turned toward the door, Trask’s voice stopped him. “I want updates. Regular updates. On everything. And if I catch even a whisper that you’re withholding something critical, I will not hesitate to act. Is that clear?”

  Falk glanced over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “Crystal.”

  The door hissed open, and Falk stepped through without another word. Trask sat back in his chair, his fists clenched tightly as the door slid shut.

  That… had not gone how he’d hoped.

  Of course, he hadn’t exactly had high hopes to begin with, but still. Commander Trask leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping against the edge of the desk. His fingers itched to reach for the hidden compartment beneath his desk, to pull out the modified dataslate that he absolutely shouldn’t have, and check the footage again.

  As soon as he’d met Agent Falk, he’d known that the man would easily notice any attempts to track or bug him. Lieutenant Veris, on the other hand, was not nearly as experienced or jaded. A faked software update on her dataslate, and he had eyes and ears on what Falk was up to.

  In truth, he hadn’t actually expected to need it – or, more accurately, hadn’t expected Agent Falk to discover anything of importance. It had been a… rude awakening. Trask had already watched the stolen video a dozen times since he’d snagged it from the Lieutenant’s device.

  Each viewing was a violation, a risk, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. The metallic liquid— impossibly flowing up the drone rack, defying gravity as it interfaced with the machines. He’d know that silver liquid anywhere.

  It explained so much.

  Why the Agent was in his sector at all, why his mission was off the books entirely, why Hadrian had never arrived. He’d known, of course. Had been certain for weeks now, but the proof of it…

  Trask had known that his old friend’s mission was dangerous, that his… passenger was of vital importance. That influential people would do anything to stop him from succeeding. Knowing that it was likely Agent Falk himself who had found his friend, who had ensured he didn’t make it to his destination…

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  Well, if Trask hadn’t already hated the Agent for what he represented, he sure as hell did now.

  How in the world the matrix got into the hands of a random salvage techie was a whole other matter, but right now not one that was important. Especially because, by the looks of the video, Kallan was dead anyway. He only hoped the Freeholders had some idea of what they had gotten their hands on, or at least enough of one that they didn’t just destroy the matrix entirely.

  Trask leaned back in his chair, feeling a headache rapidly encroaching. Now, he was going to have to figure out how to make contact with the Freeholders and convince them to let him collect the matrix. Without tipping off the paranoid Intelligence Agent looking over his shoulder.

  In hindsight, he really shouldn’t have been quite so argumentative with Agent Falk. It would do nothing but make the man more cautious.

  A soft knock at his office door dragged Trask out of his spiralling thoughts. He glanced up, schooling his expression into neutrality just as Liera poked her head in.

  “Sir,” she said hesitantly, her tone carrying the faintest edge of guilt. “Agent Falk asked me to pass along a message.”

  Trask raised an eyebrow. It hadn’t even been five minutes since the man left his office. What could he possibly have to say? “Of course, he did. What is it?”

  Liera stepped fully into the office, closing the door behind her. “Apparently, they’ve received word of Darius Kallan’s presence at the spaceport. Falk said—” she paused, a flicker of unease crossing her face before continuing, “—that if things go smoothly, they might be able to call off the lockdown soon. He sounded a bit… smug. Suggested it would be nice for you two to get out of each other’s hair.”

  Trask’s jaw tightened, but he managed a curt nod. “Thank you, Liera. That will be all.”

  Liera hesitated, clearly debating whether to say more. Instead, she simply nodded and retreated, leaving Trask alone with the news. As the door to his office hissed shut, he allowed himself a rare moment of unfiltered emotion. He swore under his breath, his fist clenching on the edge of his desk.

  Kallan. Alive.

  He didn’t waste time wondering how the man had survived his apparent injuries – there were several possible explanations, none of which were relevant at the moment.

  It should have been a relief—proof that there was still a chance to salvage this disaster. But Trask wasn’t naive. If Falk knew about Kallan’s location, the window of opportunity was closing fast. Worse, Falk’s forces would be swarming the spaceport. With the orbital defence grid and Falk’s warship in play, Kallan had no chance of escape. The timing couldn’t have been worse.

  He rubbed at his temples, the headache from earlier pounding harder now. The matrix was still out there, bound to Kallan somehow, and Falk was closing in. If Falk captured the man, the matrix would fall into Intelligence hands, and Trask knew exactly how that would end.

  Glancing quickly towards the door of his office to make sure Liera had shut it, he reached for the dataslate tucked in the concealed compartment beneath his desk. The screen flared to life, and Trask quickly navigated through the encrypted menus, accessing the backdoors he’d embedded into the spaceport’s security systems.

  The feed loaded, displaying a grainy, multi-angle view of the terminal. Even with the subpar resolution, the presence of Imperial forces was unmistakable—armoured troops moving methodically through the concourse, checking every nook and cranny for their target. Fortunately, it seemed Falk had only gotten a general location for his target.

  Searching through the feeds himself was useless – he wouldn’t spot anything the analysts didn’t, and even if by some miracle he did, there was nothing he could do about it from here. He had some loyal men scattered amongst Falk’s forces, sure, but the help they could provide would be limited. He wasn’t callous enough to ask them to do something that would get them killed, and even if he did, they were vastly outnumbered and didn’t even have the benefit of planning ahead.

  No. The only way he could do anything was if—

  Almost as if on cue, there was a flurry of activity on the screen as every enforcer simultaneously raised a hand to their earpieces and started running in a specific direction. Flicking quickly through the different camera feeds, Trask spotted a rusty-looking freighter igniting its engines on an isolated docking pad. The odds of it being a random captain getting spooked by the Imperial activity and deciding to take their chances making a run for it weren’t impossibly low, but…

  Well, he just wasn’t that lucky.

  The freighter’s thrusters roared as it broke free of the pad, ascending rapidly. Trask’s chest tightened. If Kallan was on that ship, his odds of survival were slim. The defence grid would respond in seconds, Falk’s warship in orbit a shadow too large to outrun.

  “Damn it,” Trask muttered bitterly, his hands tightening around the dataslate. No choice. No time for hesitation, either. His fingers raced over his dataslate, navigating through the various programs he’d installed over the years.

  He might not have the resources of Imperial Intelligence, but he’d had years to plan for this, and as the Station Commander, he had more access than most. It was the work of moments to execute the commands he’d set up in advance.

  The orbital defence grid’s targeting array, a labyrinthine system of protocols and subroutines designed to ensure the planet’s absolute security, responded to his commands with mechanical precision.

  The defence grid whirred into life, its batteries pivoting away from the fleeing freighter. The firing solution resolved, targeting not the ship but Falk’s Imperial cruiser in orbit. Trask’s jaw clenched as he sent the final command.

  Falk’s personal warship was advanced, on par with the latest ships rolling off the line from the Sol shipyards. It had redundant energy shielding, enough weapons to put up a fight against a cruiser, and the maneuverability of a ship half its size.

  Exeter Station’s orbital defence grid, by comparison, was already outdated the day it came into service, sporadically maintained, and not actually designed for combat. Unfortunately for the warship, it was also designed to deflect or outright destroy asteroids weighing in at hundreds of thousands of tons. Trask’s program also disabled most of the safeties, allowing the satellites to overcharge their beams at the cost of melting themselves.

  It wasn’t even a contest.

  Even from his office window, he could see the beams of light as the defence grid’s weapons discharged, streaking through the cold void of space with pinpoint accuracy. High above the station, the energy beams impacted the warship’s hull, slicing through its shields like paper. The cruiser buckled, a blossoming fireball consuming its engines before the entire vessel erupted in a catastrophic explosion.

  Trask’s chest rose and fell heavily as the freighter’s icon disappeared from the grid, slipping out of range and into the vast expanse of space. Kallan had made it. The matrix was gone, safely beyond Falk’s grasp.

  A soft, tired smile tugged at Trask’s lips. He leaned back in his chair, letting the tension seep from his body. His eyes drifted across his office, taking in the small, comforting details he’d gathered over the years. The antique clock ticking softly on the wall, the weathered leather of his chair, the small collection of books he’d managed to smuggle in despite the station’s strict protocols. Little luxuries, symbols of a life lived in quiet defiance of the Empire’s sterility.

  But there was no time to linger on sentiment. Trask sat up, his smile fading as he began activating the fail-safes he had meticulously prepared. His fingers danced across the dataslate, issuing commands that would plunge the station into chaos. Entire sections of the station’s infrastructure began to shut down, overloaded by cascading failures. The security feeds he had accessed wiped themselves clean, data stores erased, leaving no trace of his involvement.

  The station flickered and dimmed as Trask’s commands rippled through its systems. He watched the dataslate’s progress bar creep toward completion, each segment another layer of his involvement erased.

  A low chuckle escaped him. The Freeholders, opportunistic as they were, would undoubtedly capitalize on this. He didn’t particularly like them, but he couldn’t help but find some grim satisfaction in the thought of Agent Falk being held responsible for their inevitable gains. Trask hoped it would tarnish the man’s career beyond repair.

  The dataslate beeped softly, signalling the completion of the purge. Trask leaned back again, exhaling deeply. He allowed himself a moment of stillness, his mind oddly clear despite the chaos around him.

  The door to his office slammed open, breaking the calm. Trask looked up to see Liera standing there, her blaster trained on him, her expression a mix of shock and fury.

  “Commander Trask,” she barked, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to project authority. “By the authority of the Empire, you are under arrest for treason. Explain yourself, now.”

  Trask chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Liera,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of regret. “Or should I say Agent Liera? You’ve been playing the long game, haven’t you?”

  Her grip on the blaster tightened, her voice rising. “Why, Trask? Why did you do it? You just destroyed an Imperial cruiser. You’ve sabotaged the station. For what? The Freeholders? Are you working with them?”

  “No,” Trask replied evenly. “I did it for the Empire.”

  Liera blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. “For the Empire? You call this treason ‘for the Empire’?”

  Trask smiled sadly, his eyes locking onto hers. “There are things bigger than Falk’s games, bigger than you or me. I did what I had to, to protect something far more important than any of us.”

  Her confusion deepened, but before she could respond, Trask’s hand slipped beneath his desk, pressing the concealed detonator. A soft click echoed through the room, and for a fleeting moment, Trask saw comprehension flicker across her face.

  “For the Empire,” he repeated softly, just as the explosive charge detonated.