Dark Empire Book Four: Revelations - Chapter Two, Scene One

 

Someone long thought dead has come back to haunt Earth and Kalquor. Blythe must decide between keeping the peace or letting those best left buried set the two worlds against each other again...and perhaps destroy her relationship with Clan Deram.

* * * *

Earth II

It was early afternoon. After spending hours at work, Blythecontinued to feel at odds where Clan Deram was concerned.

She gazed unseeing at vids of the latest election campaignrallies of Stacy Nichols, Earth II’s current governor; and Ken Bryant, herbiggest opponent thus far. Bryant remained a determined contender despite hismarriage to a teenager on the original Earth having been brought to light. Themarriage had ended when Earth’s then-Holy Leader had decided to add Bryant’syoung wife to his harem of adolescent girls.

Too many had accepted Bryant’s account of the events, inBlythe’s opinion. The lieutenant governor had asserted he’d married his ward,who’d been the daughter of a deceased close friend, to protect her fromBrowning Copeland, the head of the Church and original Earth’s government.

“Some protection,” Blythe had told Clan Deram as the scandalwas debated by her fellow Earthers. “The poor girl ended up dead, the same asso many of Copeland’s wives when they reached a certain age.”

Nonetheless, the conservative faction of Earth II,particularly the traditionalists known as Earthtiques, had rallied to Bryant’sversion of the events. Blythe believed them willing to pardon the worst sins inorder to wrest control from Stacy Nichols and the majority of the legislature,which condemned Bryant as a sexual predator and willing minion of Copeland onold Earth.

“How does Governor Nichols manage to work with him?” Blythehad wondered. The pair had been assigned to lead Earth II by the GalacticCouncil of Planets before Bryant’s pedophilic marriage had come to light. Itmust be galling for Nichols to look at Lieutenant Governor Bryant’s admittedlyhandsome mug day in and day out.

Her thoughts at the moment were far from Bryant’s long-deadunderage wife or the election, though she’d been busy working on a story aboutthe leading candidates’ different approaches to gaining office. The day hadbeen a struggle to get through since her conversation with Clan Deram overbreakfast.

Forget crushes. I’m falling for them. The knowledgewas a stab to her gut. What had been a ploy to regain access to Alpha SpaceStation’s private areas…a ploy to help her sniff out news and indulge in some clean,old-fashioned lust…had transformed into full-blown attachment.

It threatened to become more. Blythe felt herself teeteringon the edge of actual love, of all things.

Deram, Selt, and Hadlez weren’t anything like the men she’dknown in the past. Though they took the upper hand during sex, they otherwisetreated Blythe as an equal. Sometimes better. The trio listened respectfullywhen she spoke. They asked her opinions and considered them seriously. Seltcould be overprotective, but he was typical of a Nobek. He behaved in the samefashion toward his clanmates.

If not for the secrets she sensed they held back, if not forher own skeletons she kept locked tight in her closet, what they’d built thusfar would be perfect. She’d even consider the potential of becoming theirMatara, the Kalquorian version of a wife, if the circumstances had beendifferent.

“Impossible,” she muttered. Blythe Nelson forged her ownpath. She had a career, she had command over her life, and she’d make adifference to the galaxy on her own terms. Clan Deram would have to remain whatit was: a pleasant, temporary diversion.

Her mind set, at least momentarily, Blythe focused on thevids and wrote notes for her story.

An hour later, she was pleased by the work she’d managed. Itwas close to the end of the day. Not having wasted its entirety struggling withher growing regard for Clan Deram made her feel better about herself. If shecould keep her head on straight, she’d finish the story in the morning. Sinceher plans didn’t include visiting a rented room on the space station thatnight, she stood a good chance of doing so.

She gave her attention to the latest news vids, thoughnothing particularly remarkable was going on. The system would have alerted herto anything important breaking, but she scanned her feeds from her own bureau,from the Galactic Council, and the Kalquorian Empire. A trial date had been setfor the former speaker of Earth II’s legislative branch after it had beendiscovered he’d been behind an attack that had maimed and nearly killedGovernor Nichols’ Imdiko lover. The Galactic Council was discussing the meritsof bringing the planet Trag into the fold…ridiculous. What were they thinking?Former Emperor Yuder, father of the current Kalquorian Emperor Clajak, andEmpress Jessica’s mother Tara McInness had announced their intent to clan.About time; they’d been together for nearly a decade.

Blythe’s alert com line uttered a ping for attention.She glanced at its readout with little interest. An automated statement greetedthose who decided to send her messages with a reminder it was a news comconnection, not a personal frequency. It didn’t discourage a fair number of menfrom asking Blythe for dates. There were also those who wanted to call her abitch, whore, and any number of crude names when they disliked her reports.

Her finger automatically reached for the keys to eitherdelete the incoming message or forward it to law enforcement, depending on thelevel of abuse. It froze as she absorbed the title.

The Holy Leader is alive and being held prisoner onKalquor.

She blinked. After a momentary surge of interest, her firstinstinct was bullshit. Browning Copeland had been killed duringKalquor’s civil war, when he’d thrown his support and the few ships loyal tohim behind the traitor Dramok Maf. Everyone knew the story.

The icon noting there was an attached vid blinked. Stillbullshit. There’d been numerous rumors of Copeland surviving the horrificexplosion that had destroyed his ship, accompanied by vid “evidence.” Most wereobvious fakes, easily discounted. The few well-constructed attempts could beproven phony, thanks to a number of detection programs, many of which Blythepossessed.

The half-second of hopeful excitement died. Blythe’s fingerhovered over the delete command. Only the fact it would take no more than aminute to confirm the message was a sham kept her from doing so.

The title was the sole text of the message. Blythe frowned.Most would-be fakers would include a breathless account of how they managed to gettheir “proof” and ask for money to provide more.

She played the vid, her counterfeit detection programsactivated as it began.

An old man paced restlessly in a space devoid of any objectsbeyond a couple of blankets on the floor and a Kalquorian-style toilet, thetype with an attached basin one might wash his hands or face in. The wall inthe background was distant, offering the illusion of a spacious cell.Kalquorian cells were containment field-based, their barricades invisible tothe eye unless something touched it.

The man bore a resemblance to the last images taken ofBrowning Copeland. If it were him, the thick, glorious flow of white hair hadthinned so the pink skin of his scalp showed through. His blinding white robeswere nowhere in evidence. Instead, a dust-gray jumpsuit hung on the man’s thinframe.

Blythe’s gaze narrowed. A live actor might be wearing enoughmakeup to approximate an older Holy Leader. AI-generation would have no problemproducing an aging Copeland from stored files.

“Volume up,” she said, wanting to discern the man’smuttering. It was a waste of time, but the vid wasn’t the dramatic productionmost fraudsters sent her. Its lack of spectacle was actually more captivatingthan previous forgeries she’d seen.

“…will wreak vengeance on my tormentors. I pray you sendthese sinners who collude against me, your most devoted of servants, straightto the pits of the abyss, where their flesh will burn for eternity. Hear me,your only remaining prophet, in my darkest hour of need…”

Blythe considered running voice recognition software, butthe audio could have been taken from past vids of Copeland. His voice couldhave been aged to the creaking tone she heard, as his features had been aged.Except vocal inflections and speaking patterns were difficult to replicate insuch a manner. Damned if she didn’t hear the bastard in her head, courtesy ofthe speeches of her youth, which had been mandatory to watch. The man in thevid had the same speech peculiarities she remembered, a habit of dramaticpauses. In which case, a talented impressionist must have been behind thevoice, if not the entire performance.

It could all have been easily faked. She was certain it was.Still, the footage bothered her. It was an itch between her shoulder blades shecouldn’t reach to scratch.

“Computer, run voice recognition software.”

She watched the entire two minutes before the vid abruptlyended. In all that time, the man hadn’t stopped his pacing or hectoring prayer.He hadn’t confronted whomever had recorded him to screech for rescue or anysuch nonsense Blythe had seen from past counterfeits.

The computer’s soft female voice spoke. “Should I replay vidor submit analyses now?”

Blythe hated to discover the knot in her gut was wrong. Thiswas yet another sham. It had to be…except she had the internal jittery feelingshe got when she’d stumbled on something truly newsworthy.

Her instincts were usually quite good, but they weren’tperfect, she reminded herself. She’d been wrong before.

Never mind. It’s garbage, the same as the others. Takethe reminder you’re a mere mortal and make mistakes.

Smiling in acknowledgment of her many shortcomings, Blythesaid, “Submit all analyses.”

The computer reported as the results appeared on a newscreen and scrolled. “Probability of AI-generated footage based on video andaudio: ninety-three-point-seven percent against. The footage was taken by aconsumer-grade handheld device, most likely of Kalquorian manufacture.”

Blythe’s heart beat quicker.

“Analysis of human subject of footage: no evidence ofprosthetics, makeup, or digital effects applied. Facial recognition of subject:allowing for aging and austerity of diminished lifestyle, subject appears to beBrowning Copeland of original Earth. Probability based on appearance alone:ninety-one-point-two percent. Voice recognition of subject: sound, patterns,intonations, and phrasing matches Browning Copeland of original Eartheighty-three-point-one percent.

“Analysis confirms the authenticity of the vid. Analysisshows no evidence of post-production tampering, digital, mechanical, orotherwise. Aggregate of evaluations confirms the sole subject of the vid isBrowning Copeland of Earth at eighty-seven-point-two percent certainty.”

Blythe stopped breathing. Galactic Council courts requiredonly an eighty-percent certainty of vid identification to bring criminalsuspects to trial. Eighty-seven percent confidence, coupled with other physicalevidence, almost always led to convictions.

At the very least, such a vid would move the GC to demandKalquor allow it to investigate whether the empire illegally held Browning Copeland,supposedly dead for ten years.

Blythe’s inner trembling had moved to her hands. The storywas huge, and it had been dumped in her lap.

Which was a concern. Why had the footage been sent to herrather than a Kalquorian news bureau? Or directly to the Galactic Council,which would immediately order an investigation into the possibility the empireillegally held a war criminal? Was the vid truly from Kalquor, or did some otherplanet have Copeland? Could he be held by a faction that wished to start troublebetween Earth II and the people who’d been so instrumental in bringing it tolife? If so, why was it coming to light five years after the Holy Leader’ssupposed death?

The hated face of Calvin Mitchell flashed across her mind’seye. The former speaker of Earth II’s General Assembly was in prison awaitingtrial for hiring would-be assassins who’d attacked the governor’s Imdikoboyfriend. He couldn’t have sent her the footage, but he wasn’t the onlyEarthtique eager to bring bad blood between the planets.

There would be Earthers who’d rally to the former HolyLeader if he were still alive. What was mostly low-level dissension with theoccasional violent flare-up against the progressive leadership in charge ofEarth II could explode if Blythe revealed the vid’s existence.

Her journalistic creed demanded she report the truth, nomatter the consequences. She had a job to do, and she took pride in doing itwell. The ramifications to the peace the galaxy currently enjoyed gave herplenty of pause, however. Was she ready to light the match?

As she pondered her next step, another considerationdemanded her attention. What would exposing the Kalquorian Empire’s potentialsecret mean to her tremulous but strengthening ties to Clan Deram?

 * * * *

Blythe Nelson is certain Clan Deram is keepingsomething from her. The clan of spies finds it difficult to stay a step aheadof the wily reporter who’s winning their hearts. What they don’t know is Blythehas a secret of her own. New love can’t survive without trust, and neither sideis ready when the truth comes out.

Dramok Ospar, determined to return to the politicalstage, strikes up a deal with Royal Councilman Oiteil. Unaware he’s dealingwith a Dark entity controlling Oiteil, he finds himself fighting for his honor,his relationship with his clan…and his life.

The Kalquorian Empire, already struggling against theDarks infiltrating its highest offices, suffers a new blow when it’s revealedit’s keeping a prisoner from the war against the first Earth: Holy LeaderBrowning Copeland. The schism between Kalquor and its allies grows deeper,setting the empire against the rest of the galaxy.

As chaos descends on rioting Earther colonies, theGalactic Council of Planets, and Kalquor, a desperate group of humans andKalquorians race to stop the force behind the turmoil: the Darks. Can theyloosen the grip on their worlds the enemy seeks to tighten, or is all lost?

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