“Sharm Zurra, it has been too long!” a voice boomed from across the veranda and a large, bluish krokator beckoned. Like all civilian males, he had his grayish tuft of hair tied back in the traditional tokkom knot, and he wore a modest tunic and kekkalo around his waist. He had a blue-and-gold striped band tied around his wrist and a larger, similarly colored sash tied between his tunic and kekkalo, identifying him as a member of the Progressive Movement.
“Hurukk, it is good to see you,” Zurra said and clasped the older krokator’s forearm in a warm, informal handshake. “How have you been?”
“Old, tired and drunk, Sharm Zurra. Like always,” Elatokk Hurukk replied. The Progressive informant motioned for Zurra to take a seat at his table. “So, you sought me out. Must be important, you rarely drop by on social calls.”
“I only visit you on official military business.”
Hurukk chuckled and shook his head. “Look at you, Zurra, so serious. The High Prod’s favorite pet. You know, there’s a reputation forming about you in some Progressive circles.”
“And what is that?”
“That you are old Nikkwill’s private assassin and heretic-killer. It would not be a stretch to suggest that Tarkas handpicked you to lead that sensational raid on Piskka a few weeks back, would it?”
“You know I am not at liberty to speak of such matters.”
“Fair enough. What did you want to know?”
“I need information on radical Progressives.”
“You always do. Look, Sharm Zurra, I’ve talked to several officials about tonight’s rally – nothing will go wrong. Tolakko has given the Emperor his personal guarantee that any insurrection will be condemned and punished from within the Movement itself.”
“I do not care about the rally. We care about foreign intervention.”
“The Alliance and the Dominion do not give funds to the Progressive Movement, we do not need their help. I doubt they would care, anyways…”
“I mean the Hudda Kugrall.”
Hurukk froze at the name. “Sharm Zurra, I have known you many years. You would not accuse me of fraternizing with their lot. You know I am a patriot.”
“I was not accusing you of anything, friend. I just need information on a name my superiors gave me – Kamaan Dakkal. Do you know him?”
“Only by reputation,” Hurukk replied, seeming relieved. “Are you sure this is not an inquiry your friends in the sukuda ought to make?”
“For all you know, I am sukuda.”
“I suppose so, Sharm Zurra, I suppose so. Well, this krokator you seek, Dakkal, he is a criminal in Ankina. I do not know if you have been to that lovely corner of the planet, but I spent a lot of time up there during Amran and Ekal. It gets abysmally cold in Ankina that time of year, so the early residents of the city built a system of catacombs under the city that are kept warm with the heat of the planet. These catacombs predate the Empire, and have always figured into the city’s unique culture.”
“I fail to see the relevance.”
“These catacombs link various businesses in the neighborhoods and have often been used to discreetly transport goods, specifically contraband, from place to place as there are fewer patrols down there than on the surface, especially now in the warmer months. A few years ago, this character named Kamaan Dakkal storms in and shoves out the local muscle, takes over in southern Ankina and soon owns a variety of taverns, gambling dens and brothels. What’s important though is that he seized power with the help of some questionable friends.”
“How questionable?”
“Does Marsa Grakko sound questionable enough?”
Zurra stiffened at the name, his heart beating faster. The infamous Scarred Tarl of the Forbidden Army, one of the most wanted krokator in the Empire. He was a terrorist, a murderer and a heretic against the Emperor and all his subjects.
“Dakkal could be arrested just for speaking to Grakko.”
“There is no evidence, of course. Dakkal is smart enough to publicly avoid Hudda Kugrall as much as possible, but…” Hurukk sipped on his beastwine and smacked his lips with both tongues. “Do you really think he subdued a fourth of the Ankina underground by himself? Street gangs typically avoid picking fights with the largest heretic faction in the Empire.”
Zurra considered this information. “Would Dakkal know about Hudda Kugrall’s foreign benefactors?”
“Probably. If memory serves me correct, Dakkal owns a variety of legitimate businesses in Ankina as a front. If the Hudda Kugrall has connections outside of the Empire, he may be keeping his illicit money on Border Worlds where cash transactions are less scrutinized. Would this happen to have anything to do with Piskka, by chance?”
Zurra carefully answered, “I appreciate the information, Hurukk. I will make sure you receive your usual fee.”
Sensing he wouldn’t receive anything more, Hurukk nodded in understanding and said, “My pleasure, as always. A word of caution, however – if Dakkal’s reputation serves him right, he is both very hard to find and very dangerous.”
Zurra gave Hurukk a rare smile and shook his arm. “Blessings on this Urkuran.”
“And blessings to you, Sharm Zurra.”
#
Night had fallen on the Krokandir. The faint glow of the setting sun behind the mountains was all but gone, and a few stars peppered the clear sky. It was the nicest weather on Urkuran Eve in recent memory.
Zurra showed a pair of aruntuk his credentials at the door to the private box where Admiral Tarkas would be watching the Emperor’s address, and they let him through.
Several prods, tarls and two of Tarkas’s most trusted admirals had already taken their seats. The officers saw Zurra enter, and while some were shocked that a mere sharm had been invited to their luxury suite, once they saw Tarkas beckon him to his side they began whispering to one another.
“Is that Akgu Zurra?”
“Yes, I believe so. He looks much like his father.”
“Akgu Juska was a personal friend of mine, you know.”
“You would not have deserved Akgu Juska as a friend.”
Tarkas handed Zurra a cup of beastwine. “I have always found that having the right friends does wonders for your career. I trust you have never viewed the Urkuran Eve ceremonies from this grand a place before?”
“No, I usually watch it at home,” Zurra replied. “I cannot recall any time I have been in Empire Plaza during the Urkuran.”
“There is a first time for everything,” Tarkas coughed, gagging on a healthy mouthful of beastwine. “I was in that position once too. This place becomes crowded – there will be half a million citizens here in the Plaza tonight and hundreds of thousands more on the nearby streets.”
Zurra viewed the massive square and the throng of people crammed amongst the braziers burning all around Empire Plaza. So many in one place; it was a sight to see.
A communicator vibrated on Tarkas’s belt and he checked the brief message displayed on its screen. “The Progressive rally is starting to pick up steam down in Agukkan Square,” he commented and tucked it away. “Tolakko is speaking after the Emperor’s address, but there are almost a hundred thousand there already, and thousands more packed onto the rooftops of the surrounding buildings.”
“A smaller version of our evening here,” Zurra said. “Admiral, regarding the mission to Ankina…”
“Tomorrow, Sharm Zurra.”
“I may have found a lead.”
“Good. When you leave for Ankina tomorrow, you can follow up on it.”
Zurra realized that Tarkas wasn’t going to discuss the matter any further, so he sipped on his beastwine, enjoying the unusually rich taste. This must have been a very expensive vintage.
From the Manganese Palace, its shadows cast across the square in the firelight, a gong sounded followed by four blows of a horn. “The Emperor’s address approaches,” loudspeakers throughout Empire Plaza announced to the crowd.
All the officers in the luxury box rose to their feet
and clamped their hands behind their backs, watching the dais attentively. Every soldier in the Plaza and on every rooftop did the same. Twenty masked priests in hooded blue robes approached the front of the dais and lit twenty fires along its front, adding to the illumination. At the central podium, a lonely figure dressed in flowing white robes and a glowing golden mask appeared from the darkness. It was Ermokk Lukktan, the High Priest of the Empire.
He raised his hands so that they touched each other above his head and the crowd went silent, anxiously expecting his sermon. “Tonight concludes the holy month of Urk,” the High Priest began in his slow but booming voice, microphones projecting his deep baritone across the Plaza. “For centuries upon centuries, we have observed this sacred evening as a time of reflection. For sacrifice, there is Ugrandkad. For repentance, there is Kurkandkad. For fulfillment of spirit, there is Ukkumkad. But tonight, we reflect. We reflect on who we are as individuals. We consider what we are doing in our home, to put food on the table for our families. We wonder what we are doing to help the progress of the Empire. And we ponder the decisions we must make to improve ourselves as krokator.”
Lukktan paused and took a deep breath. “Holy Brothers, watch over us tonight. We ask you keep us in your wisdom, guide our paths, and take us in your love. Without you we are lost, but with you we have been found! Let the Urkuran… commence!”
The twenty flames were suddenly tipped over into oil-filled aqueducts that ran down into the Plaza from the dais, and a majority of those assembled dipped torches they had brought from home into the rivers of fire running through the mass.
“Giving fire to restless citizens, is this the best idea?” Zurra pondered with concern.
“You cannot forgo a tradition of nearly five thousand years,” Tarkas responded with a growl. “The Emperor will speak soon.”
Lukktan was now fully in sight thanks to the sea of firelight in the square. He bellowed into the night, “Citizens of the Empire, I give you the Revered, Noble and All-Mighty Emperor of the Krokator, Urkus Ruskir!”
Ruskir appeared from behind a curtain in front of the Bronze Gate in a colorful red and blue robe, marching up to the podium. Lukktan stepped to the side, allowing High Prod Nikkwill to slide into place between the High Priest and the Emperor. On the Emperor’s left was his sister, the Lady Erenna, and the Imperial Viceroy, Ekkor Aratrokk.
The entire crowd sank to one knee and the soldiers immediately burst into their patriotic chant, the Oath of Obedience:
I, Soldier of the Empire, do swear to uphold the honor of my Empire.
I will protect her from all enemies.
I will give my life to serve her.
I will destroy those who seek harm to me, my family, or my Empire.
I will not differentiate between foreign enemies, and those of the home.
I will not fear any threat, nor regret any action in defense of the Empire.
I will serve only the High Prod and the Emperor and do their bidding until death
I will respect and follow the tenets of the Truuknan
I will take my own life before I submit to heresy and treachery
I will never forget my place beneath superiors or my position above inferiors
I, Soldier of the Empire, do swear these things.
Long Live the Empire! Long Live Urkus Ruskir!
“Rise, citizens,” the Emperor wheezed into the microphones. The masses rose to their feet, attentively watching their revered leader.
He began, “Tonight, as High Priest Lukktan said in his sermon, we observe the Urkuran. This is a week of reflection, the culmination of a month of prayer, fasting and moral rectitude. We live in a society built on strict beliefs and traditions – they are the foundation of not only the Empire, but of our entire way of life. It would not be right for males to not wear their hair in a tokkom knot, for females not to wear an umrusk on their head and shoulders, for priests to appear in public without their ceremonial shrouds, and for soldiers to not braid their hair by rank.
“Upon this bedrock of tradition rises an Empire unmatched by any other nation in the galaxy. In no other nation is the protection of every citizen a guarantee by the authorities. We have built a powerful state, one whose strength is fueled by the citizens’ belief in her unwavering fortitude against all enemies. Priests, soldiers and Emperors come and go, but the Krokator Star Empire stays eternal!”
The crowd cheered three times in unison, three short barks of approval. The massive holographic screens throughout the plaza showed the Emperor revealing a rare smile before continuing.
“There are those who doubt that strength now. Do not be alarmed, citizens, we at Court know that these are difficult times. But our way of life is not threatened, and never shall be. Whether we live in comfort, squalor or opulence, this is not a permanent downturn, merely a smudge on the glorious history of the Empire!”
“He admits that there are troubles,” Tarkas observed in surprise. “Last year was much glossier.”
“There weren’t as many citizens starving throughout the Empire last year,” Zurra remarked with a scowl. “Or as many riots or signs of growing heresy.”
Emperor Ruskir raised his arms to the crowd. “This Progressive Movement we see before us has two arms. It has the arm led by my personal friend Karalukk Tolakko. This arm is designed to help the people of the Empire by reaching agreements with our Court to help alleviate the issues that concern you, the common citizen.
“The other arm seeks to overturn the entire order and way of life of the Empire. I tell you this as your loving Emperor; the legal Movement is the only Movement the Empire recognizes. The one that seeks to destroy all we hold dear – the one that seeks to create a democracy – is the one you must fear, for they are heretics, and we all know the fate of heretics.”
The crowd murmured in muted approval. In no state address had the Emperor ever legitimized Tolakko’s Progressive Movement; only the Viceroy had touched on the matter previously, and even he had made sure to only give a subtle approval.
“Tonight, Tolakko will speak not far from here about the slowing economy, the rising costs of food and heating, and the specter of garrison increases. Difficult problems require difficult solutions, and to solve them we will work with the Progressives, not against them.”
Zurra was drinking in the spectacle of the masses on the Plaza, watching the illuminated figure on his dais. He had been awed by it when he’d seen it on a screen, but to view this event in person was something else.
The communicators of every high-ranking officer in the room flashed to life. Tarkas checked it instantly and roared. “There are riots in seven southern districts! There’s been a bomb at Tolakko’s rally!”
The screens flashed violet three times and a harsh siren sounded. “Citizens,” the voice of an official screeched across the Plaza. “Your safety is currently compromised. Please exit Empire Plaza immediately in an orderly fashion.”
Zurra rose with Tarkas. “Admiral, what do you need me to do?”
“I don’t know… yet. The Emperor has never had his address interrupted by a riot before. We usually quell the riots and he goes on speaking.”
“Is the Emperor safe?”
“He will return to the Manganese Palace, the aruntuk will be out in full force…”
A new bomb went off between the dais and the Bronze Gate. Zurra saw ten aruntuk immediately swarm to the Emperor and, amid the chaos, escort him down a staircase into the now-writhing crowd of panicked krokator.
“Zurra, take seven soldiers and make your way to the 1st District beacon. It will attract garrisons in the area who don’t know where the riot is.”
“The beacon is on the other side of the skyrail station from here, we need to press through a full riot…”
“Sharm Akgu Zurra, you were given an order!” Tarkas bellowed before vanishing down the stairs with his fellow officers.
Zurra emerged from the officer’s building onto the street, looking around at the chaos. Civilians
were stampeding around each other and pushing over soldiers and regular citizens alike, bumping into parked likalas and smashing windows with their fists. A massive brawl was starting only a hundred yards away, involving several garrison troops and a pack of brawny, rough types.
”You four! Come with me!” he called out to four confused-looking soldiers with Obedience Sticks, one who beat a rioter away with the electrical end as he glanced up at Zurra.
“Sharm! The riot is spreading out into Empire Plaza! This is a mess!”
Zurra’s voxcom vibrated and he picked it up. “Sharm Akgu Zurra, 1st District,” he replied, ducking to avoid an airborne rioter who had gotten a severe shock from an Obedience Stick.
“The 24th District’s beacon is lit, we need immediate backup from the orbital contingent!” a voice screamed from the other end.
“No, the 1st District is the priority!” Zurra growled into the voxcom but it was already silent.
“Sir, I know how garrison commanders think,” one of the soldiers said as they skirted around a group of looters breaking into an upscale jewelry store. “They won’t make a move until you fire up the beacon, its protocol. They fear retribution for doing something without direct orders.”
“Well we better get moving then!”
Zurra grabbed an okka gun from one of the soldiers so that he would be protected from the most dangerous of rioters and they pressed through the crowd. Most of the krokator were panicked spectators from the Emperor’s address who wanted no part of any riot, but were being sucked into the melee.
“How did this even start?”
“The bombing attack at Tolakko’s rally started it. The Progressives must think that the sukuda planted it to sabotage the event.”
Zurra looked back at the two soldiers. “Nonsense! The Empire does not conduct terrorism. Tolakko’s rally is legal.”
“Then it must have been Hudda Kugrall trying to cause trouble,” the soldier said with an ominous tone. The sound of explosions rumbled in the distance.
Zurra could see the skyrail station only a few hundred yards away, and he shoved two protestors harshly out of the way. “Run up ahead and clear a path to the beacon, I’m right behind you,” he said to two of the soldiers.
They ran forward and were immediately felled by a flurry of okka needles, which took out several rioters as well. Zurra threw himself to the ground to avoid the next spurt.