Dennis had been surprised – and then annoyed – when Richard had insisted on using the capture net. It made the whole affair much more complicated, he’d complained, even though the report from Bat’s lair stated that the bodyguard had killed one of his enforcers with a single punch. But Richard had prevailed ...and the net had worked, catching the bodyguard before she could run or fight. And now ...
***
Belinda swore out loud as the net fell around her. Someone had been thinking ahead; if they’d seen the carnage she’d left behind in the shuttle, they would have realised that she was heavily augmented at the very least. And if they’d given her time to run, she could have grabbed Roland, boosted and fled far faster than they could hope to follow. Using the net was clever and ...
She heard the crackle a split second before the net discharged a colossal electric pulse into her body. Alarms flashed up in front of her eyes as her implants struggled to migrate and counteract the pulse; even with her enhancements, that had hurt. Warning messages followed the alarms, alerting her to damage to a number of vital components. The neural link she used to access computer networks failed; if she’d been linked to anything at the time, she would have been lucky to avoid brain damage at the very least. Several other components died as she staggered and fell to the floor, the net powering up for a second pulse. Repeated strikes would kill her, or leave her so badly injured that she would not be able to survive for long.
Bracing herself, she yanked at the edge of the net, trying to pull it away from the floor. They’d thought of that too; it was magnetised, almost immovable even with enhanced strength. The metal plating covering the floor held her helpless and trapped. They might even take Roland and leave her there, knowing that eventually the net would kill her. It could not be allowed. And yet ...
She noticed, through the haze, Bat’s body hitting the ground, followed rapidly by his men. Someone had shot them and she hadn't even heard the shots! And he’d led them into a trap ... but he hadn't known it was a trap. Someone had told him precisely what route to take, without bothering to mention that he and his men were expendable. No doubt Bat was a liability to his superior; he'd have to be wondering what deals Bat might have struck with Belinda and Roland.
Roland howled, lifted his weapon and fired towards the source of the shots. Belinda couldn't tell if he’d hit anything by the time he ran out of ammunition, but it didn't matter. A man emerged from the shadows – well away from where Roland had been aiming – and advanced towards him, moving with the easy confidence of the combat veteran. Roland turned and tried to fight, but this man wasn't holding back. He shrugged off Roland’s punch and hit him in the stomach, hard enough to force the Prince to double over, clutching his chest. A second blow sent him falling to the ground.
“Your Highness,” the man whispered, as he rolled Roland over. “Welcome to the end of the line.”
He shot a triumphant glance at Belinda, who realised in horror just what sort of person the Grand Senator had sent after them. A sociopath, almost certainly; a man incapable of feeling any real emotion, certainly not capable of feeling anything for anyone else. Such a person would have fitted in well among pirate society, or even in the Grand Senate, but they would be a liability in the military. But he’d clearly been a soldier at one time.
“I’d have fun with you,” he hissed, “but I think I’ll leave you here instead.”
Belinda gritted her teeth. Desperately, her fingers reached down to where she had hidden the monofilament knife. No one knew she had it, even Roland. She twisted her body, stumbling face-forward to the floor, as she grasped the hilt and withdrew it. The net was starting to crackle with power; it wouldn’t be more than a few seconds before it shocked her again, stunning her long enough for the newcomer to carry Roland back to the Grand Senator. She flicked the switch, activating the knife, and cut right through the net. Sparks flashed around the blade as it sliced though, but she was free.
She threw herself forward, out of the net, and advanced towards the newcomer. He jumped backwards as she stabbed at him with the knife, his eyes glinting with a savage chilling amusement. An augment, she realised grimly; no ordinary person could have avoided her thrust. And her own augments were damaged ... now she was out of the net, her neural processor was starting to attempt to repair her systems, those that could be repaired. The remainder ... it had taken months for the full series of augmentations to be implanted and then matched with her body. How long would it take to repair the damaged systems?
“What an inspired hiding place,” the newcomer leered. “Did you learn that at the Slaughterhouse?”
Belinda ignored his taunt. Her battle analysis subroutines were damaged, but she didn't need them. The way the newcomer was moving suggested that he’d come from the Imperial Army, rather than the Marines; there was a brutal directness in his motions that didn't quite match basic Marine training. And his augmentation didn't seem to be quite up to Pathfinder standards ... at least as far as she could tell. Augmentation was such a useful tool that the Grand Senate would hardly have allowed the Marines to keep a monopoly.
He stepped forward, moving with boosted speed, and lashed out at her. Belinda nipped back, then threw back a punch of her own, hoping that he would expose himself long enough to allow her to land the killing blow. Instead, he side-stepped it and darted backwards, putting Roland’s prone form between them. Belinda took a moment to boost herself, then lunged forward again. He threw up an augmented hand to block her punch, then threw a wicked kick at her. She barely managed to twist in time to avoid it.
“You seem to be slipping,” he observed, mildly. He was taunting her during the fight! What sort of training encouraged such recklessness? “A Pathfinder should have beaten me by now.”
Belinda ignored the taunt, even though he was right. Even with the boost, she was barely matching him.
“Who are you?” She asked, as she studied him for weaknesses. “What do you want?”
“My name is Bode,” the newcomer said. He sounded as if he were bragging. “You may have heard of me.”
Belinda stared at him in disbelief. It could be a coincidence, merely a case of two people sharing the same blackened name, but she doubted it. Captain Bode had been the CO of a small counter-insurgency team on the corporate-dominated Jitter’s World, she recalled. He’d been given carte blanche to deal with the insurgency in any way he saw fit ... and his methods had shocked even the hardened Bloody Blades, one of the most ruthless detachments of the Imperial Army. The Marines had joked, bitterly, that you had to be a sociopath to join the Blades. In this case, Bode had been arrested, dishonourably discharged from the Imperial Army and sentenced to a lifetime on Hellhole. No one ever got off the world once they were dumped there.
And now he was here, on Earth. And augmented.
“The Grand Senator,” she said, slowly. She’d researched the Grand Senator’s holdings after it had become clear that he wanted to be Roland’s puppet-master – and his corporation had controlled Jitter’s World. “You never went to Hellhole, did you?”
“Of course not,” Bode said, dryly. “A person as ... useful as myself is never thrown away to rot. Don’t you know that?”
Belinda nodded, coldly. She’d seen too many atrocities committed in the name of the Grand Senate to doubt that someone like Bode would be seen as a useful tool. Why bother manipulating events to exterminate a settlement or enslave a colony when you had someone who would do it without batting an eyelid? And Bode had gone too far even for the Bloody Blades to stomach. He would be a very useful tool.
“Yes, I do,” she admitted. “What have you been doing on Earth?”
Bode snickered. “Are you trying to delay me? You do realise that I hold all of the cards?”
Belinda met his eyes. “Really?”
“Really,” Bode assured her. “An armoured recovery team is already on the way. Even if you manage to beat me - which you won’t – you can't get away any longer. The armoured goons will take Roland to
the Grand Senator – and kill you. You’re just too dangerous to keep around.”
His eyes glittered. “Do you know that it was I who started the first riot? Or faked an assassination attempt on Roland? And now the Grand Senator rules the Empire.”
Of course, Belinda thought. Part of his career had involved provoking uprisings to give his corporate masters an excuse to stamp on them – and if anyone innocent got crushed along with the rebels ... well, it was no skin off their noses. Everyone knew that those who harboured rebels were effectively rebels themselves. Why, the rules on counter-insurgency had been signed into law by the Grand Senate itself!
Now, it was clear. The Grand Senator had manipulated everyone in order to put himself into power. Given enough time, he could marginalise or destroy the other Grand Senators and declare himself Emperor. But it was too late. Maybe he could have saved the Empire, if he’d started a century ago; now ...
It would have been easy to manipulate the students. God knew Belinda had seen extremists succeed in manipulating people who had far more life experience than the students of Imperial University. Besides, all he’d had to do was cause a riot and the Civil Guard would do the rest. None of them would ever realise the truth.
“The Grand Senator’s house of cards is tumbling down,” she said, tiredly. The dominos were already falling, one by one. She doubted that the Grand Senator could arrest the process, even if there was no further resistance. The contaminated ration bars would cause riots far greater than any the planet had yet seen. “What’s the point in taking Roland to him?”
“Power,” Bode said, simply. “I shall be rewarded with power beyond my wildest dreams.”
“I doubt that,” Belinda said. The Grand Senator might be an evil bastard, but he wasn't stupid. “A tool like you will be destroyed once it is no longer useful. Besides, you know too much to be allowed to live.”
Bode laughed. “Why doth treason never prosper?”
“Because if it does, none dare call it treason,” Belinda said. She drew on the boost, bracing herself. “But it doesn't matter. The Empire is tottering. It won’t be long before it falls ...”
She sprang at him, without warning. He jerked back, then threw a blow at her. Part of Belinda’s mind noted that he’d expected trouble, even if she’d moved too fast for him to see the tells that she intended to move; the rest concentrated on the fight. They were both boosted, moving at inhuman speeds ... and neither of them could land a killing blow. Belinda lashed out with her knife, then threw it at him in a calculated gamble. Bode threw himself right across the room instead of trying to take advantage of the opening she’d offered him.
Damn, she thought. The knife had gone too far too be retrieved before he hit her in the back. Whoever had trained Bode had done a good job. Too good. For once, the Imperial Army had shown remarkable competence ... at precisely the wrong moment for everyone. But then, that was just a Marine conceit. There were plenty of units in the Army that were reasonably competent, even though they were not up to Marine standards.
“There really is no chance for you to win,” Bode informed her. “Why not just leave? I’ll tell the Senator that you vanished somewhere within the Undercity, all very regretful and so on.”
Belinda smiled, inwardly. He must be weakening. The boost was wearing away at her, all the worse for having her augmentation badly damaged, but Bode would be suffering too. Perhaps the battle would be won by the one who managed to stay boosted for longer, assuming they didn't collapse together. His augmentation was undamaged ... but she had no idea of its precise specifications. The Bloody Blades kept the exact details of their augmentation to themselves.
He would have been stripped of his augmentation before he was dumped on Hellhole, she thought, quickly. Could it be that the Grand Senator gave him something special – or was he pulled out of the penal system before he could be disarmed?
“I have a better idea,” she said. “You fuck off and tell the Senator that you couldn't find either of us. It’s a big place down here. You could spend years searching for someone in the Undercity. He isn't going to question a few days spent larking away down here.”
“That isn't an option,” Bode said. “You see, I want my reward.”
He started to inch closer to her, talking rapidly. Belinda watched him warily, bracing herself as best as she could. Her vision was starting to blur, a sure sign that the boost was starting to damage her body. Bode didn't seem to be showing any side-effects himself, but there was no way to be sure. She'd have to assume the worst – and finish the struggle as quickly as possible.
“Your hands are twitching,” Bode observed. “Having a little trouble with the boost, are we?”
Belinda swallowed a curse. The side-effects would keep growing worse as long as she drew on the boost – and yet without it, she wouldn't have a chance. She gathered herself, knowing that it was likely to be her last stand ...
Shots rang out from the distance, aimed right at Bode. They missed, but for an instant he was distracted ... just long enough for Belinda to lunge forward and slam her fist into the side of his head with augmented force. He would have light armour protecting his skull, just like Belinda herself, but the blow would have stunned him. Belinda watched him fall, then stamped on his head as hard as she could. It took several blows to crush it utterly. A moment later, his body burst into towering white flame, burning brilliantly in the semi-darkness ... and revealing a girl holding a pistol. She looked too clean to have come from the Undercity ...
Belinda shivered as she came off the boost, flushing it from her system as quickly as possible. More alerts blinked up in front of her, warning that she’d damaged a number of vital organs – despite implants intended to limit the damage. The net had crippled more of her augmentation than she'd realised. Once the boost was gone, tiredness fell on her like a lead weight. Somehow, she kept herself upright as Roland stumbled to his feet.
The Prince stared at the girl. “Who are you?”
“Amethyst,” the girl said. “He ... he controlled us. He turned us into monsters.”
During one of the Slaughterhouse exercises, the recruits had been ordered to walk ten miles – only to be told, when they reached the end, that they had to walk another ten miles. And then another, and another ... those who passed had to have the endurance to keep going anyway, no matter what, as long as it was humanly possible. Belinda had been drained, almost completely, when the exercise had finally ended, but now ... now, she felt worse.
But she couldn't stop, not now. Bode had said that reinforcements were on the way.
“Come here,” she ordered.
The girl, trembling, did as she was told. Belinda reached into her pocket, pulled out the roll of duct tape she'd carried out of habit, and used it to lash the girl’s hands behind her back. It was far from polite, or decent, but she knew nothing about the girl – or where her loyalties lay. She couldn't be trusted, even if she had helped defeat Bode.
Roland blinked at her. “Is that necessary?”
“Yes,” Belinda said, shortly. “Take the gun and be ready to use it.”
There had been other gangsters nearby, but they’d fled. Belinda chose a passageway at random, hoping and praying that they were heading away from gang territory, and started to walk, nibbling at the remains of the ration bar as she moved. Her body needed a rest as well as food, but there was no time. They would just have to keep going until they found somewhere out of the danger zone ...
If there was such a place left on Earth.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
However, no purge could eliminate all of the officers who had patrons from outside the emergency committee. Grand Senator Devers might have lost part of her network, but other parts remained intact, giving her an unexpected advantage. However, this advantage was not sufficient to assume control of enough firepower to force a stalemate.
-Professor Leo Caesius, The End of Empire
EARTHCOM ONE was a single massive orbital battlestation, armed and armoure
d enough to go toe-to-toe with a battleship and survive. Commander Tsonga had been told, when he’d been assigned to the Earth Defence Force, that normal tactical doctrine simply didn't apply when the orbital defences were powerful enough. A stationary target was easy to hit, doctrine stated – but EARTHCOM ONE had enough firepower to make anyone who wanted to take out the station pay a heavy price for their efforts. And its sensors were capable of tracking and eliminating unpowered missiles launched beyond its engagement range ...
... Not, Tsonga admitted, as he made his way down to the armoury, that they had ever been tested. Earth hadn't been attacked since the Unification Wars; the worst the solar system had seen in thousands of years was the occasional pirate attack, hardly anything to exercise Home Fleet. The defence planners regularly scoffed at the idea of someone attacking Earth. Everyone knew that humanity’s homeworld was impregnable.
Normally, their confidence would be fully justified. Almost every orbital battlestation, industrial hub, habitation settlement and asteroid in orbit around Earth was tied into the main defence network, their sensors locked into one vast system that maintained an ever-present watch over the Earth-Moon system. Nothing, not even a cloaked ship, could enter Earth’s space without being detected – and most of the orbital facilities were armed, even the civilian ones. Earth was so heavily defended that Home Fleet, the most powerful formation – at least on paper – in the Imperial Navy would bleed itself white trying to break through. There was good reason to assume that Earth was safe.
But the situation was far from normal. Tsonga was surprised that he hadn't been reassigned after the destruction of Orbit Station Seven and the Emergency Committee’s rise to power. He could only guess that the Emergency Committee – which had just happened to reassign officers that weren't part of its client network – hadn't realised that he belonged to Grand Senator Devers. Or maybe they’d just concentrated on the senior officers and ignored the juniors, perhaps assuming that they would obey orders without question. It was an assumption that was going to explode in their face.
The Empire's Corps: Book 03 - When The Bough Breaks Page 36
