Lost heir, p.33
Lost Heir, page 33
He faced the men who had been brave enough to protect their families as they finished. “Line up.” Slowly he gave them a solid, silent inspection before speaking again, “If those people out there get in here, we’re all dead, so we’ve got to fight together. Who will serve under me?”
Ward carefully measured the men who answered his call. The other eighteen hunched down, cringing as bullets ricocheted about. Of the twelve who said they’d fight, two gave him an itch between the shoulder blades when they agreed. “What are your names?” he asked those two.
“Fergus McAskill,” responded a tall blond in a bland way.
“Report downstairs to Sergeant Fleisch. I’ll let her know you’re coming to help.”
The man simply gave a quiet smile and turned to go. Ward watched him all the way to the stairs. Holding the com to his lips, he turned away from the others to speak, “Twelve of the remaining security police up here will fight with us. See if any of the ones downstairs want to fight for their lives, too. And be careful of the guy coming down the stairs. Code Pogue.”
“Roger, Top. I’ve got just the place for him.”
“Good. I’m sending the new men to cover the back and our locals to help Jebet cover the front. I think it’s better to keep the two groups apart, so they don’t accidentally shoot each other instead of the ones trying to break in. Jebet, you copy that?”
“Roger.”
Ward looked at a little, ratty guy with bleached-looking hair, almost white. For some reason, he made Ward more nervous than the man he had sent downstairs. “Who are you?” he prompted.
“Shubert.”
“That all?”
The little man sniggered before answering, “It’s enough.”
Something felt off about the man, something about his eyes, flat and greasy-looking, that rang warning bells even louder in Ward’s head as he concentrated on him. Or maybe the way the other ten men inched away from him, trying to get as far from him as possible without giving offense, seemed odd. Ferret in a hen house. This man kills for pleasure. He had seen the type before.
“Okay, you men. Shubert will be with me and five men at the back windows. The rest of you, who is highest ranking?”
A medium-sized man, solid citizen written on him, raised his hand, “Armando Garza.”
“Get arms and report to Sergeant Klostermann. I’m turning out the lights in twenty seconds, so hurry.”
Comming Klostermann, he said, “Vinnie, send your four men forward to Jebet. I’m sending you six security guys to cover your doors, including a man named Garza who looks solid.”
“I’ll get them in place before I send the guys forward. We’ll be okay.”
Ward nodded to himself as the men he had picked headed out. This might just work. But, as he looked around, he felt prickles up and down his spine. Would these men with him kill him anyway, throwing away their only chance of survival to get him while he had no backup? Well, as the man said, you pays your money and you takes your chance.
He turned away from Shubert, daring him to shoot. Activating his rear helmet cam, he watched the little man pick up a rifle, caress it, then stare unblinking at Ward’s back. Ward headed for the rear wall, the others moving with him. Shubert had a clean shot to kill them all and Ward saw him lick his lips.
I’m going to have to kill that one before the night’s over. I probably ought to save some of these men’s lives and take care of it right now, but these other men need to know why I did it when I do. Shubert followed without firing.
As Ward glanced around, he noted that Garza hadn’t left to help Klostermann yet, but kept his rifle trained on Shubert. A shiver went down Ward’s spine. That little man had seen Garza and decided to wait for later. Truly a dangerous man. As Ward’s group approached the window, he ordered into the com again, “Lights out.”
Screams of fear came from the women and children as the sudden dark descended. Darkness and screaming, when added to the smell of smoke entering through the broken windows, created a nightmare impression. Flames flickered outside, painting the loft with reds and oranges.
Ward bellowed, “Don’t be afraid. We turned out the lights so those outside can’t see in here to shoot. Men, stand beside the windows, not in front, otherwise you might be seen. Shoot anyone approaching the building unless I, or one of the other Marines, tell you otherwise. Or they have a white flag. Shoot to kill.”
He watched as his six men got into place, Shubert at one end, as far as he could get from where Ward stood. Going to go down the line using the dark to cover his killing, I bet. Wait until all eyes are busy, and then pick off these men one by one. Like a weasel, just can’t get enough blood. I’m sure the Enlightened found him very useful before everything fell apart. Tonight, with everything in an uproar, he probably figures he can kill as much as he wants to, men first, then the women and children. I’ll just wait for him by the next man and see what happens.
Ward reactivated the chameleon skin and disappeared. Checking his map again before he headed to his overwatch position, he stared dumbfounded. Hugh refused to even try to stay safely out of the fray. Instead, he had charged through the gates to rescue the people in the warehouses, as if things weren’t dicey enough.
Thinking back, he recalled making a perfunctory response to Hugh, but couldn’t remember what Hugh had said. He should know better. Too late now to change things, though. He’d just have to hope Hugh survived the night. Then Ward would ream him out but good.
A few moments after he left, Maeve uch Robert heard Hugh’s voice booming in the air once more over the compound, “Anyone setting fire to a warehouse or killing a prisoner will be immediately shot. If you have any desire to be free, free from overlords and free from guilt, put out those fires!”
It seemed that a few people were listening, but too few. Most were intent on vengeance or possibly just the chance to destroy. Looking out the window, she tried to find Hugh’s armor in the chaos but couldn’t. Bringing her heads-up display online, Maeve located him, followed by a comet’s tail of yellow armbands. As for Pam and Karen, finding their grav sleds just required her to see where they were clearing a path at the moment. Maeve discovered she felt no sympathy at all now for the ones unlucky enough to have been strafed by Pam or Karen.
Manual for Courts-Martial (MCM)
Revised 3277 by Order of the Emperor, Charles Roland
War Crimes against Civilians
In a combat zone or during a time competent authority deems to be civil insurrection, a war crime is committed by the commission of these acts which would otherwise be under civil jurisdiction:
Intentional killing of non-combatants, especially women and children;
Hiding among the populous, thereby using them as human shields or hostages;
Rape;
Arson;
Looting;
Committing serious or grievous bodily harm while in the commission of felonious acts; or
Attempting to commit the foregoing or abetting the foregoing.
The precise legal basis for each of these crimes is set out in detail in the sections below.
The officer in charge must act to protect defenseless individuals and prisoners who have surrendered to his authority. Failure to attempt to so act constitutes intentional killing.
Competent authority must review all acts taken hereunder as soon as possible.
Trial: Full trial permissible but not required
Penalty: Summary execution
25
* * *
Hearts and Minds
Spreitenbach, Alpine
1920 Local/2020 BBMT 8 November 3473
Gliding forward toward the gate in his armor, it seemed to Hugh Cascade as if he had entered a live simulation. He had purposefully not enabled the camouflage so his people could see him. He didn’t care, or worry, about anyone else. So focused had he become on what lay ahead of him that he barely noticed the doctor, Vintner Jacques, and his men running full out just to keep up. Hugh lifted his suit’s basic weapon, a multipurpose rifle with numerous modes that hooked up directly to the internal feed. He selected explosive rounds from the suit’s inventory. Firing into the gate, it sagged inward, hinges twisting and broken, but remained partially attached to the walls. Surging ahead, he hit it full force like a battering ram. His armor looked impressive, and heavy, but the massive metal gate slowed him almost to a complete stop before it collapsed into a heap.
He really hoped Ward hadn’t seen that little stunt. When he hit the gate, even with the padding in the helmet, his head had rattled around something fierce, ringing his gong. Guiltily, he admitted to himself that he’d done that successfully in simulation and really wanted to try it for real. He’d be smarter next time, he promised himself.
Intellectually, he knew new and dangerous tricks shouldn’t be attempted in combat because, if they backfired, they could get you killed or leave you disoriented at the wrong moment. Well, he’d been lucky. Of course, he thought, shaking his head to clear it from the ringing, if he hadn’t been in such a hurry, he wouldn’t have tried it this time, either.
Probably, a little voice whispered at the back of his head as it disagreed with his rationalization.
Looking around as the dust that had been raised by the collapsing gates settled, he searched for threats. What he saw stunned him into immobility for several seconds. Only if he had been condemned to the deepest reaches of the infernal pit could he have imagined seeing anything like this, or so he would have believed before tonight. But here before him he saw arson, lynching, rape, murder, looting, all outlined in the lurid light flickering from burning buildings. As he stood there in the ruins of the gate, everyone began looking in his direction. Either my impressive entrance or the suit is getting their attention.
A hail of bullets began pinging off him as these crazed people reacted, waking him from his trance. Pushing the volume to max, he heard his voice boom from the drones still stationed overhead. “Lay down your weapons by order of Hugh Cascade, heir apparent to the Core Empire, and the free city of Spreitenbach. Anyone resisting or committing acts contrary to martial law will be summarily executed.” His voice echoed as a thunder of doom around him. A few people, men and women, security forces and citizens, did stop, but most redoubled their efforts to kill someone, anyone, and destroy everything they could. A madness seemed to have seized them all, both sides.
Assessing what he saw inside the gates, Hugh felt torn. A warehouse to his right burned brightly, white flags still hanging from the upstairs windows. The roar of the flames made it hard to hear most of the battle around him. Sensors in his suit told him the fires were heating the air appreciably. A short way down a street leading toward Ward’s position, Hugh spotted what might be a rape in progress. A group of men surrounded several figures struggling on the ground.
Ward waited, holding a warehouse with their ticket out of here. What to do? After a very long moment Hugh decided Ward could take care of himself. Hugh raised his rifle, firing a standard round as a warning over their heads. “Stop your activity now. Stand up and stay still,” he boomed, hoping that discovery would be enough to stop it and somehow make them feel guilty. Unfortunately, under martial law, he’d still have to kill them if they were committing a rape.
Hugh shoved through the intervening crowds, plowing them over in some cases, to get to the scene between the warehouses. Arriving, he slid to a halt, valiantly attempting not to vomit in his suit. Lying in their tattered rags he saw three children and two women. All were bloodied, the children and one of the women moaning, curled into fetal positions. The other woman neither made a sound nor moved, staring blank-eyed into the night. Hugh could see from the blood and injuries she must have fought to the last to prevent this atrocity.
Men on the edges of the circle began slipping away, seeking the shelter of the shadows to escape, as he stood taking it in. But Hugh could see them, his suit automatically identifying each man who had participated in this atrocity. “Mark as targets, all men who were standing here when I came up,” he commanded the suit.
“Marked,” it confirmed. Flashing red carets strobed on each man. A red cloud descended on his vision as he began to fire target-specific rounds that essentially carried each man’s name written on them. He wanted nothing more than to wipe these vermin from the face of the earth. Within seconds, not one of those men within the range of his sight remained standing, although many struggled on the sodden ground in agony from their wounds. As he ceased fire, he realized his throat felt raw from screaming as he killed them. He hoped that no one outside his suit had heard his rage, but really didn’t care much. All but three down; those three having scooted around a corner before he began firing.
Hugh noticed Jacques standing behind him. He must have seen the whole thing. Hugh’s thought came from a detached place deep inside, as he turned his helmet toward him. “Doctor, take care of these poor children and the woman,” he asked gently. His fury spent, but not quite, he added, “Kill any of these men who survived,” the steel in his voice reflecting the coldness of his heart at this moment.
Ward’s warehouse stood just about two hundred yards away. As he turned to take the quickest route toward it, Hugh noticed he seemed to have attracted a crowd of grim-faced men wearing the yellow armbands of the group that had marched with Dr. Jacques and set up positions across the street with him earlier. Silently, they stood in ones, twos, and clumps, all staring hard at him. No weapons were aimed at him. In fact, they were pointed away but all were standing, waiting.
Why are they doing this? Do they think I made a mistake? If they did, too bad!
Flicking open the PA circuit again, he spoke brusquely, “Under martial law, anyone caught committing murder, rape, arson, or looting is to be immediately tried and shot. If I catch them, I’ll do it. If you catch them, ask me first, and then shoot them. If you can live with that, come with me. If not, go back across the street and let me do my job. Got it?”
“Aye, aye, sir,” blasted back at him, stunning him with its ferocity, even in his suit. His first coherent thought credited Klostermann’s training, only to be struck by an even more overwhelming one. They agreed with what he had done and wanted to follow him. He judged their numbers. They were by no means most of the members of the yellow group, much less a majority of those that had started with him tonight, but he figured they were enough to get the job done because they were committed.
“Before we go, ten men stay here with the doctor. Once he is through here, clear a path to Sergeant Major Ward’s warehouse in the second row so we can get this woman and these children to safety.” Pointing to his map as he projected it, he continued, “That one. Ensign uch Robert will guide you if you get lost or confused, so call her if there’s a problem. I’ll meet you there. The rest of you, let’s go,” he ordered and headed off, this time toward the nearest burning warehouse. Ward would just have to hold on a bit longer. So would his mission. Some things were more important than food. Fanned out around him on his heads-up display were icons representing the yellow group, each man willingly dedicated to try and create some order on this world. Following in his wake as Hugh clove through the sea of humanity between him and his objective, they charged forward with abandon.
Hugh had to go more than two hundred yards to the edge of the crowd at the burning warehouse but covered it in fifteen seconds with his augmented muscles, far outstripping his team and guard. Every second counted and he refused to wait. Terror that he would be too late almost strangled him as it rose into his throat, pushing him recklessly forward.
“Clear out, get out of my way,” his voice blared from the drones overhead, following his path through the crowd. Some of the mob turned to stare, a few moved. As for those who remained in his path, he showed no compassion. He stepped on them, crunching and snapping bones with his steel feet, or when his steel arms connected to sweep them away. Keying the PA as he arrived, he announced, “I’m here to protect you. Open the door.”
A massive truck door hesitantly began to creak upward, then froze four feet up, releasing a massive curtain of smoke. Reaching it, Hugh heaved upward, rending it off its track. Before him huddled about one hundred men, women, and children, cowering near the front to keep as far as possible from the fire devouring the building. Many had serious burns, all were coughing, almost overcome with smoke. He could see fire licking the ceiling and racing along the pallets, blocking any possible exit through the back, the closest way to Ward’s warehouse. Now they would be exposed to the mobs longer as Hugh tried to get them to safety.
A tall, spare man in silver and black stepped up, straight and tall. “We tried to get out, but they shot at us and killed many of my men. They got Molotov cocktails in to start the fire while we had the doors open. We had clothing stored here and the fire took right off. Thanks for coming.”
Hugh shook his head. “I pledged to keep you safe. I’m here.” Looking around he saw a bigger crowd, mostly yellow arm bands, but more than when he started, with quite a few black and silver uniforms mixed in. Turning up the gain on his PA, he ordered, “You who are with me, I order you to shoot any arsonists you see. We are going to stop this riot. If you see a murder or rape, tell me. I will judge.”
In the closeness of the suit, he discovered that his cheeks were wet but refused to think about it. All this death and destruction were his fault. He had tried to get the supplies they needed with the least bloodshed possible. Instead, he had unleashed an inferno of destruction. That made it his job to stop it if he could. He calmed his voice before saying anything else, “We’re headed to the food warehouse held by my men. Some of you people help with the wounded and take them there.”
Stooping, he picked up a horribly burned man with his left arm and headed toward a road leading to Ward’s position only a short distance away. He didn’t check his rear camera. If they weren’t moving, he didn’t have time to force them or explain why they should do the right thing. They’d just have to do as he commanded or he would do without their help.
