Lost heir, p.34
Lost Heir, page 34
Stepping outside, he heard a fusillade of shots coming from around a corner up ahead. Carefully looking around, he saw yellow armbands chasing the remains of the mob that had torched the warehouse. The man in his arms moaned, reminding him of his pressing need to get to Ward. Blood and pus were oozing down the man’s side, white ribs stark against the black, charred skin of his chest. Gradually picking up speed, so as not to jar the man too much, Hugh soon caught up to the line of his men making its way forward as it pushed the crowd before it. Almost like veterans, Hugh thought, as they confidently fired, barely stopping for resistance. He wanted to run ahead with this nameless man he had rescued, but, unlike Hugh, no armor protected him. A stray bullet meant for Hugh would easily snuff out the man’s tenuous hold on life.
Approaching the next street where he could turn toward Ward’s warehouse, shots began again to ricochet off his armor. Shielding the man as best he could, he and those with him fired back. Hugh decided that he would allow the mob between here and there only three options, because he didn’t have time to stop to reason with anyone: run, surrender, or die.
Walking out into the road between him and Ward’s warehouse, he saw another warehouse blazing brightly to his left as men, and some women, danced in the light of destruction. Ahead, a ring of men and women ebbed and flowed like a storm surge crashing against a reef, trying to get into the warehouse Ward held. He kicked on the PA to full. “This is Hugh Cascade.” He left out the part about the free city of Spreitenbach this time; he didn’t have time. “Throw down your weapons and leave . . . or die.” His voice echoed and rolled as the drones fought to maintain position as the heated air of the fires tried to force them higher.
Only a few listened, dropping their weapons to flee. Five seconds later, the rest died as Hugh attacked, the men with him spreading out in a line to either side of him, filling the street. Walking across the front of the warehouse, he opened fire. As if by command, those with him also fired a massive, scything volley sweeping the street of active resistance.
Stopping at the next corner, Hugh called five men to him. “Take this man to a door and get him inside.” As they gently took the burn victim out of his left arm, Hugh saw a straggling line of wounded come out of the street he had just cleared, many burned. The people he had rescued were here.
The five he had detailed hadn’t moved while he looked around, taking stock. “He’s dead, Your Highness,” one of his men, fear plain in his voice, said.
Hugh nodded numbly. “Take him and lay him inside anyway. Then go back to the other street we came down so we can get the rest of these people to safety. Watch our backs.” Picking five more men, he faced them toward the uncleared portion of the street. “You keep this end of the street open. Shoot anyone who approaches. Give them one warning first, but shoot to kill if they ignore you. Keep this street open.”
Opening his com link to Ward first, he spoke, “You all right, Top?”
Ward’s grim voice answered, “Just peachy, except for a certain cadet who didn’t stay where I told him to and where he promised he’d be when this ended.”
Hugh grinned at the well-remembered tone. “I never promised, Top, I just said I’d be good. Without this food, we can’t lift, plus you were in a little trouble. In addition, many of these security people surrendered, an action based upon my promise of safety. The townspeople were killing them, so what real choice did I have? By the way, heads up, you have refugees coming in at your twelve o’clock. Take care of them as well as you can. Dr. Jacques ought to be here shortly with some rape victims, also.”
“Even so, Your Highness . . . ,” Ward began.
Hugh cut him off, “Even so, my word is everything. It’s in the Creed. It is the Creed. I swore to uphold my oath, to the death if need be. So, open the front and let these people in. I’m going down the west side now and then along the back. I have promises to keep. I’ll tell you when I get there.”
“Roger,” came the clipped answer.
Hugh didn’t wait for more. With the rest of his men—about twenty—he headed down the street along the right wall. Pockets of resistance fought and died or fled. With no cover in the street besides a few piles of debris and the outside stairwells to the second floors for the buildings on either side, nothing protected them or could withstand Hugh. Reaching the street along the back of Ward’s warehouse, he wheeled his men before opening fire along the back of the warehouse. “We’re at the rear, Top.” A double com click acknowledged his transmission.
As he led his men across the back, he only counted sixteen men with yellow armbands still with him. He had no idea what had happened to the others, but a dozen men in black and silver had joined up along the way. Regardless, all of them, black and silver or yellow arm-banded, seemed to have caught Hugh’s iron purpose and become extensions of his weapons systems. They began marching along the street between the back wall of Ward’s warehouse and front of the warehouse to the south, leaving a clear path as they went. Clear, that is, of resistance, but littered with the dead and wounded who had refused to stand down or run.
Hugh’s sensors caught an order from inside the warehouse that sounded like the sergeant major, but he didn’t really pay attention to whatever he said. He had work to do, concentrating on the people he needed to subdue. As he walked, he felt relieved that there had been no firing from inside the warehouse. Sergeant Major must have ordered cease fire inside. No firing, at least, until they passed the last window. A bullet spanged and spun off his armor, doing no damage, followed by a second shot that took down a man to his left. Looking up, training his rifle on the window unconsciously as he did, the sight of a body with white hair flying through the air surprised him.
“Sergeant Major?” Hugh queried as they reached the far street, one now emptying rapidly as word spread of death incarnate coming to reap the wicked.
“A man just resigned. I assisted in his going away party. But it was time for him to fly.”
Hugh laughed to himself. Very punny. Aloud, he said, “Thank you for making sure the empire gave him a proper send-off, Top. I’m sorry I couldn’t attend.” He heard Ward chuckle into his com in response.
Despite the humor, Ward sounded less than amused. It couldn’t be that he regretted throwing the white-haired man from the window, could it? The man had taken a shot at the heir and the penalty mandated death, so there must have been another explanation. If he remembered later, he’d ask Ward about it. Now, many more warehouses needed to be secured before they burned down. Opening a channel to the commanders of the red, blue, and green groups, he kept it brief. “This is Cascade. Stop anyone else trying to get in. Shoot them if necessary, but only if necessary. Let anyone leave who wants to. Cascade, out.”
Ambrose B
1945 Local/2045 BBMT 8 November 3473
Gail sat tensely watching the action from the cockpit. The sensors surrounding her brought her almost too much information. Ward’s warehouse appeared to be relatively safe, but the rest of what had been the warehouse sector could only be described as chaotic.
Approvingly, she watched Hugh bring order to the area a piece at a time. As an experienced special operator, she knew better than to joggle his elbow while he worked. A distraction at the wrong time could get the wrong someone, him, for instance, killed.
Above her, she heard the dorsal gun mount whir.
“Whatcha got, Pete?” she asked.
“A bunch of people being clever, from what the sensors are telling me. Trying to sneak up in the dark.”
To Gail, he sounded amused. She agreed, in space it was generally dark, which meant sensors didn’t rely on visible light to do their jobs.
“Shall I light them up with a few rounds, cap?” he asked.
Gail smiled to herself. “No, we may need the ammunition later. I’ll see if persuasion will work.”
Activating the PA in a drone keeping track of the spaceport, she ordered, “This is a restricted area. Approaching within one mile is prohibited. All personnel within that perimeter will be shot without warning.”
Watching the return from the drone, she saw that most of approaching mass immediately began to retreat toward the edges of the field. A few brave, and stupid, individuals had dropped to their stomachs and were crawling. They apparently thought this would allow them to get close enough to take the ship. And they were ignoring her sincere warning when she meant every word.
“Peterson, we have some people who aren’t believers. We need to convert them. One short burst at the group of your choice.”
She felt more than heard the dorsal gun rumble. Almost immediately, those who hadn’t already run, that is those still alive, were running for the fence. Smart. Won’t have to do that again anytime soon. She hated wasting ammo.
Her earbud chirped with an incoming com from Karen Hall. “We’re seeing lots of heat signatures converging on the warehouses. I don’t think Hugh and Ward have enough bullets to kill them all. Neither do we; the energy pack on my sled is at 75 percent already.”
“Mine’s 73 percent,” Pam West added. “Probably drawn by the fires.”
Karen chimed back in, “Some people love disasters. They don’t know they can end up in the meat grinder doing stuff like this.”
“I’ll just have to persuade them to use better common sense,” Gail responded. Positioning the drones took a few seconds in order to cover the largest masses.
“This is Captain Gail Felt, Imperial Navy. You are entering a restricted zone subject to martial law. Violators will be subject to summary execution. For your own safety, you are advised to not enter this area.”
Going off the drone feed, she ordered Pam and Karen, “I’m giving you each four safe targets where I am not reading heat signatures. One short shot at each.”
“Roger,” came back from both. Thirty seconds later, most of the masses were going away, some very quickly. A few very brave, or foolhardy, souls were still approaching the warehouses.
“On your heads be it,” Gail thought as she returned her attention to the battle.
Warehouses
2110 Local/2210 BBMT 8 November 3473
Time became a blur: knots of resistance, blood soaking the ground, scenes of horror he wished he could forget but knew he would always remember. Early on, someone tried to fry him with a rocket. If he had been closer when the missile fired, he wouldn’t have had time or, more accurately, his suit’s automatic reflexes couldn’t have reacted quickly enough, to avoid it. The group around him, a group he began to think of as his bodyguards, shot the missileer and the people with her before he even had a chance to train his rifle on them.
As time passed, he realized that he no longer had a few dozen men and women surrounding him, but hundreds. Exhaustion began to overcome him, even with the muscle augmentation of the suit. With so many people helping him, he slowed down, sending out parties to clean up pockets of resistance. By the time he returned to the area near the gate, time had sped by. Bone weariness weighed him down as he stood vacantly searching for something to do next, his armor dented and sooty.
Suddenly an alarm went off in his ear, startling him, a schematic came up automatically, showing him the situation and routes to get there. He began running to help, a confused gaggle trying to follow him as he swiftly left them behind.
Commander’s Belle
2230 BBMT 8 November 3473
Former Marine Lieutenant Austin Carhart stared at his screen, but things were just not coming together. Mostly he loved combat, but this coming situation could be a little exciting. A rap on the bulkhead brought his head up, interrupting his very unproductive line of thought.
The bosun, Mul Muktar, stood in the open hatch, his bulk almost hiding Captain Argus Steed standing beside him. Another headache, obviously, if both of them had appeared to add excitement to his day. “Come and sit, you two.”
Steed and Muktar remained standing. That really brought up his antennae up. “What?” he demanded.
Muktar smiled thinly. “That cargo is still available at Francine and pays well,” he stated straight out.
“We’re not going to Francine, I have business on Keep Off the Grass.”
Steed gave a look to Muktar. “Before going to the Shoal, you told me that you were headed there because it was less dangerous than one other place you knew of to get the information you need. Could that other place be Keep Off the Grass?”
Carhart stared at them, but neither one seemed to notice his irritation, which made him glare. And then he laughed. “It is. But I need that information, especially now that Dent is back.”
Muktar nodded. “Dangerous game we’re in, boss.” Before Carhart could answer, Muktar went on. “In that case, we better plan a little better than we did for the Shoal.”
Carhart felt a warmth toward these men who followed him but put on a frown. “You mean that I didn’t plan and it almost got us killed?” Smiling a bit sourly at the thought, he added, “You’re right. What do you suggest?”
Both sat. Steed asked, “Who are you going to see and what exactly do you want to get?”
“An information broker named Madam Aswini living on Keep Off the Grass is said to know just about every imperial secret. Unfortunately, upon occasion, people who go to see her don’t come out.” After he pause, he went on. “As I see it, we have two problems. I need to get Madama Aswini to tell me where Hugh Cascade, and bloody Imperial Sergeant Major Ward, are going. That means I need to figure out what we know that is valuable enough that she might be willing to trade for. I want Hugh Cascade and don’t see any other way to find out where he might be.”
After a long beat, Steed asked. “The second problem?”
“How to get out of her place with the information. Alive.”
Mul gave him a hard smile.
The Core Empire
Chapter 13
This chapter examines how Emperor Allen, 2880 through 2928, almost single-handedly destroyed the empire by refusing to employ its strengths, which existed when he started but were undermined by his attempts to negotiate in good faith with all comers. By the end of his reign, the Dynastic Wars were in full swing and six sectors were essentially free of any imperial control.
26
* * *
Choice of Dooms
Spreitenbach City, Alpine
1950 Local/2050 BBMT 8 November 3473
Maeve uch Robert stared into the night that had swallowed Hugh Cascade, the heir apparent, as he tried take control of the situation. Fear and also frustration filled her. She worried for his safety, but also desperately wanted to be outside, right there beside him, helping. But her orders were to stay here, in safety. Safe! There were more important things than safety. Hugh had known that and done something about it. She could see him saving people! What good could she do here? Routing calls like a mindless computer.
Sporadic reports came over the com as one or another of the Marines or Vintner Jacques’s leaders reported in on their status or requested permission to execute judgment. She tried to shut the reports, the details of atrocities, out of her mind. She could barely cope as she considered that the killing and brutalization of those who had surrendered, even by their own people, became possible only after Pam West and Karen Hall, flying above in the air sleds, had destroyed the strongpoints at Hugh’s orders. She tried to ignore Hugh as he issued quick approvals of punishment based upon terse explanations of what perpetrators had been caught doing. She listened as Hugh asked pointed questions, trying to ensure that no one was using summary justice as a means of settling scores. He always insisted on two witnesses. Though he could never be fully certain, they had no time for more complete trials or appeals, only justice, immediate, swift, final, to have any chance of ending this horror. If it could even be stopped.
Maeve kept a close eye on Hugh as he worked to take over one warehouse after another, trying to create islands of calm behind him. At the beginning, he had successfully cleared two of the warehouses on the far left side and their surrounding areas, including one of those that had surrendered initially. But he couldn’t be everywhere.
The fury in his voice as he stormed from one emergency to another resonated with her own anger and despair. Why don’t these people take the opportunity we are giving them? But she knew why: too many of these people hated each other more than they wanted to be free. With hate filling so many, Hugh and the others could do only so much.
Slowly, Hugh took additional warehouses under control, with the largest group being an irregular box of five. Two of the warehouses not under their control became entirely engulfed in flame while looters finished ransacking others. Yet slowly but surely, Hugh and his people asserted control, creating order from chaos.
Between the flickering firelight and the demonic cries and screams, Maeve feared she might go mad. Maeve turned off her external mic so she didn’t hear anymore, but couldn’t stop herself from staring off into the night as warehouses burned and weapons fired. Sally Carr tapped her shoulder. Maeve turned to look at her, turning her external mic back on. “Karen is on her way in to land on the roof, but I really need to find a ladies’ room.”
Maeve suddenly saw that much more than two hours had passed since the attack started. “Go ahead. I have these guys watching my back, plus the tin can.” She left her external mic on with Sally gone.
The five men Jacques had left smiled a little uncertainly as she referred to them, but stayed out of the conversation. Maeve guessed that, after a lifetime of living in an authoritarian state, being mentioned by someone in charge probably made them nervous. Hopefully, things would change. But, for now, these people simply did not know how to make a choice and then take responsibility for the consequences, good or bad. Learning that provided the only way for things to get better.
