Daughter of the Empire
13 Dec 2020Lakshmi Bai
The warm glow of the star of Carthage graced the lush green valley dotted by pristine white domes. Pure white clouds receded like a velvet curtain to reveal the beautiful vista below, as figures began to stir in the shuttle's cabin. The futuristic Gutamaya craft decelerated to subsonic speed with barely any sense of motion, save for the telltale low frequency hum of inertial dampers and the rumble of reaction thrusters. Final approach to the Great Hall of Lavigny's Legion was heralded by the distant sound of hydraulics, and a slight buffeting accompanying turbulent airflow around flaps and landing gear. The flight concluded with a soft thump as the vessel finally settled onto the landing pad seemingly cut from the side of a mountain.
Before the silently descending airstairs a courtier in classical finery stood in stark contrast to the two armored figures expecting their arrival, checking names, verifying faces, and ushering the passengers quickly from the still-steaming landing pad, the non-slip surface still damp from the morning rain. Their belongings were searched, as per the customs of interstellar flight, but the procedure was efficient and discreet, in any case, the sudden transition from quiet luxury to stiff Imperial protocol had the effect of quelling any objection under the faceless scrutiny of the Legio Cybernetica troopers in attendance.
Lakshmi was sure the other passengers were whisked away on a ground vehicle, for at the end of her exhaustive background checks and arrival questionnaire an open road was presented to her. It was the kind of road you saw in dreams and visions, pristine cobblestones snaking down to an immaculate valley covered in mist, where the Great Hall of the Lavigny's Legion stood watch for hundreds of years - symbolizing their presence as the Emperor's personal guard for truly that long.
"This is your home. And your choice to walk this path," said the Imperial courtier in characteristic softness, yet with authority in each word like an iron fist in a velvet glove. She touched Lakshmi's hand lightly, and upon seeing an acceptably graceful and modest response, guided her along her first footsteps down that path of no return.
The path of being an Imperial citizen. Making clear nothing was forced upon her, not even the long journey to New Carthage, nor the cessation of her private enterprise in Federal space which in itself required days and weeks of planning and execution with her hired companion and telepresence fighter pilots who now managed her growing flotilla. She had made contact with the Empire during the Battle of LTT 1935 so many weeks ago, sending the Legion a cryptic message disclosing atrocities committed against civilian transports flying the flag of the Empire.
In return was a welcome vox message from one Praetor who proclaimed, "Any daughter pure of heart is welcome."
She had played that message over and over again, her mind in turmoil, deciding whether or not whether to make the jump to Imperial space, and in the end decided she had waited long enough. These were dangerous times, and allegiances shifted around so fast she knew she would be blindly swept away by events if she did not anchor herself to the thing she believed in most since she won her pilot's wings.
The name of the Imperial Cruiser that served as the Flight Operations Bureau's base of operations at LFT 1935.
Strength of Purpose.
She needed that strength, to identify with a cause, to discover what she truly stood for in these uncertain times, and perhaps to unravel who she really was. What purpose she had in life. That life, now shrouded permanently in a fog of amnesia, for there was absolutely nothing she could remember before her time in the academy.
Who was this Lakshmi anyway? A chosen name, or one she picked herself?
The birth records said Sol 3, yet she had only known, and been comfortable living amongst the stars.
Born to parents who wished her the best and paid for all her expenses, as though to rid themselves of her.
This was an absolute lie, she decided, but only ever privately disclosed to the one friend and companion whom she trusted.
An imperial courtesan and a parting 'gift' from a forgotten colony at the fringe of Zemina Torval's influence, a mere buffer planet struck from the trade registers and left to fend for itself just because it was a political buffer zone of a power play between her and Zachary Hudson.
How convenient then, that weeks of listening to stories of Imperial tradition, and samples of a courtesan's exotic charms would sway her to the Empire's embrace. The truth would lay ahead, as Lakshmi finally reached those steps of white stone leading up to the Great Hall, where her future beckoned. By then, an hour had passed, and the skies had turned gray, the clouds a low overcast hiding the secrets of the hidden valley once again.
Rekha had chose an outfit of one of the Empire's patron cultures for her, a flattering ensemble of a tight fitting shirt-dress that flowed to her knees, and a floor-length scarf that now threatened to fly away with the wind. Lakshmi had mentally expected questions regarding how she didn't look at all like a pilot, as her electronic immigration records now said, but to her surprise, there was none.
Just the silent welcome, and the piercing gaze of the elders and veterans who scrutinized her initiation and issued her a collection of reading material to be familiar with before the infamous Logisticae Exam in a week. Reading material, physical copy, like ancient, actual books.
She spent night after night flipping through the pages, skipping past chapters upon chapters of rules and regulations to admire those beautiful images of Imperial starships, and then one fateful moment a slender package slipped out from between a set of Flight Operation Manuals and noisily clattered to the desk. It contained a data disc and a handwritten letter. Not addressed to her.
But the person she was supposed to be.
An Imperial Knight who ejected in hostile territory years ago during a covert Inquisitional operation, and presumed killed in action. Whomever picked her up conveniently sold her escape pod as a prisoner of war, and she was struck from the registers of the Imperial Navy ever since. Her mission a secret, flying an unmarked vessel, and the consequence, none would answer for.
Tears flowed as she looked up to the stars, sitting alone in the courtyard with just her lost memories for company.
I remember the pulse lasers glittering off my starboard bow, Federal attack ships on fire before the Interdictor's wrath. I called out on Squadron frequency to withdraw, I've lost both engines, but an entire wing stayed with me. Going out in a blaze of glory with cries of "Arissa Invicta!" All these memories lost to time, like tears in rain.
It was a while before she reached the end of that letter, itself a priceless heirloom, bearing the chronicles of a family that no longer existed, now stained with her tears.
"It felt like our world had ended when the officer arrived at our gates bearing the news. We knew you were lost not because of a 'training incident' but as a Knight bearing a message of peace - our last hope for diplomacy. Mark my words, all of Achenar would mourn the loss of a daughter this night, for being the one who still carried words of grace and civility in the face of the enemy. "
"They wished to gift us your ship as a heirloom to serve our family. The one you were saving up for all these years, that we know you desired since you were old enough to tell a Cutter from a Clipper.
"But we said no. We know you are out there somewhere in the Black. And you would need something to come home to. So we paid it off, mortgaging our lands and selling our possessions. Your father was very happy as he was taken away, to live the rest of his days in serfdom. It was a chance to do his duty to the Empire once again, he said, the price we have to pay for our way of life."
"We put out a call for your return, but when none answered, we henceforth entrust your last possessions to the safekeeping to the eternal watch of your Legion's Librarian.
Upon your return, come to your home in Capitol. The Clipper we commissioned with indefinite lease, swiftest of her class, PRINCESS OF JAIPUR 523-PJ stands ready to serve the Empire, hopefully in better times.
The Emperor Protects."
