He smiled to himself as he stepped out of the stairwell and walked down towards the armoury. There were no guards outside the armoured hatch; it was simply impossible to open without the proper codes. Even a debonder wouldn't work, he’d been told – and using one would certainly set off a whole series of alarms. But it didn't matter. He’d been given the code by one of the Grand Senator’s other clients, who’d also added his biometric signature to the security system. As far as the armoury was concerned, he was a legitimate visitor.
The security panel felt cold against his fingertips as he pressed them against the sensor, then keyed in the code. If the newcomers had realised that there was a hole in their security, he was about to be arrested, interrogated and then thrown out into space ... there was a long moment when he feared that something had gone wrong, then the hatch opened smoothly, revealing a large compartment crammed with weapons. He stepped inside, looking around for familiar rifles and pistols. His weapons training at Luna Base had been very limited.
“You got in,” Ensign Sandra Higgs said. She was another person who had enjoyed the Grand Senator’s patronage; in her case, it had saved her from having to use her body to graduate from basic training. It was lucky for her that she had been offered patronage; as pretty as she was, it wouldn't have been long before the instructors or upperclassmen came sniffing around. “Grab the rifles and let’s go.”
The other three arrived as Tsonga started passing out the weapons and armour. He took a small selection of security tools, suspecting that they might come in handy, as well as a pair of stunners. There was no point in pretending that he was going to defy the Grand Senator – no one would trust him if he betrayed his patron – yet he did want to avoid killing if possible. The new CO and his cronies wouldn't be missed, but everyone else was, at the very least, his workmate. They didn't deserve to die.
“All right,” he said, as he closed the armoury and code-locked it. No one else should be able to get inside now, at least as long as the CO didn't override his commands. Thankfully, it was impossible to do that without actually visiting the armoury. “You know what to do. As soon as the elevator opens in Command Central, Joe and I will stun everyone. Everyone else hang back unless they start shooting at us.”
He checked the stunner as they stepped into the elevator, then used the security tools he’d taken to override the system’s protocols, allowing them to go directly to Command Central. It shouldn't alarm anyone, if only because the CO had given his cronies full access rights – and people had been getting used to them swaggering around the station. By the time the command staff realised that they weren't friendly, it would be far too late.
“Here we go,” he said, as the elevator neared Command Central. His mouth was suddenly very dry. It had seemed easy when he’d planned it, but actually carrying it out was going to be much harder than he’d thought. “Don't fuck up.”
The elevator doors hissed open. Command Central was massive, easily the size of a football pitch, crammed with consoles operated by pale-faced men and women trying to keep track of what was going on near Earth. With so many independent and even small corporate shippers fleeing the solar system, their task had suddenly become a great deal harder. Who knew if one of those freighters wouldn't decide to try to take out another orbital station? It was a very real possibility.
He pressed down on the trigger and started to spray stun pulses towards his targets. One advantage of stunners was that they didn't actually damage anything they hit; he could fire the stunner into a console for hours and not damage it at all. Several operators glanced towards him as they heard the stunners, but it was far too late. They dropped where they stood before they could do anything. The CO was still reaching for the pistol he wore at his belt when he was hit and sent falling to the deck. It barely took thirty seconds to sweep the entire compartment.
“Check them all,” he ordered. It was just possible that some of them could be faking it, if they’d had the presence of mind to drop to the deck when they’d started shooting. “Hurry!”
He ran over to the CO’s chair and slipped a pre-prepared datachip into the console. A competent CO could have controlled most of the station's internal functions from his console, if he'd known what he was doing; within moments, the entire station was under his control. Quickly, he activated the security overrides, putting most of the station into lockdown. The remainder, believing that there was a genuine emergency, should follow orders from Command Central without question.
Not, in the end, that it would matter.
The Grand Senator’s orders had been clear. First, take control of EARTHCOM ONE; second, engage as many Emergency Committee-controlled orbital defences as possible, before they realised that something had gone badly wrong. He wasn't the only one, he'd been told; if he failed to carry out his orders, he would be dooming others to failure. Tsonga hesitated, considering the danger of what he was about to do, then started to set up the firing solutions. Everything within reach of EARTHCOM ONE had to be considered a legitimate target.
Seven minutes later, he pushed down on the firing key and the civil war began.
***
The first Stephen heard of the emergency was when the Imperial Palace’s alarms started to howl. A moment later, the floor fell away and the chair he was sitting on fell down an antigravity chute and into a secure bunker underneath the palace. He was still trying to recover from the shock when the display in front of him lit up with an emergency communication from Admiral Valentine. What the hell was going on?
“We have a mutiny on several stations,” Admiral Valentine said. He looked badly shocked. “Earth’s defence network has fragmented! A number of battlestations are firing on their own kin!”
Stephen stared at him, unable to grasp the magnitude of the disaster. “Why?”
“Unknown,” Admiral Valentine admitted. “The first we knew of it was when EARTHCOM ONE opened fire, but the command network was hammered beforehand. We don’t know how many stations have remained loyal and how many are being overwhelmed with mutinies and how many are just sitting on the fence ...”
“Get a grip of yourself, man,” Stephen barked at him. Rage would drive away fear – he hoped. What would happen if someone hostile to the Emergency Committee took control of the high orbitals? “What is the exact situation?”
Admiral Valentine pulled himself to attention, slowly. “Seven orbital defence stations – led by EARTHCOM ONE – have opened fire on other orbital defence stations, mainly the ones that were completely under our control. All of them were caught by surprise and took heavy damage. At the same time, the unified command network has been fragmented, even subverted. We don’t know who is on what side.”
Stephen took a moment to put it all together. “So if we fired on the wrong station, we might create additional enemies,” he said.
“Yes,” Admiral Valentine said. “The best we can do is tactical analysis; we think that six of the seven stations are working together, but we don't know for sure. And then we don't know what the seventh is doing either!”
Devers, Stephen thought, coldly. Perhaps it would have been better to offer the bitch a seat on the Emergency Committee, rather than leaving her in the cold, but he’d wanted a number of her assets for himself. And besides, she would hardly have accepted his direction as tamely as some of the others. She knew better than to allow someone into a position of near-absolute power.
And she’d been to see the Marine Commandant. Were they planning something together? Stephen had worked hard to get as many Marines off-Earth and out of the system as possible, but the Marines had a habit of doing more with less. It was unlike them to take sides in political struggles, yet this struggle risked everything. Couldn't they see that he was doing it for the Empire? He would have stabilised it, made it strong again ...the fact that he would have boosted his own power beyond all recognition was merely the icing on the cake.
But it isn't too late, he thought, grimly. And we took out most of her network when we
purged the solar system.
“Get the Imperial Navy into the act,” he ordered. “I want those hostile stations taken out!”
“Your Excellency,” Admiral Valentine said carefully, “if we use heavier warheads, we will rain debris down on Earth.”
“So?” Stephen demanded. “It will just burn up in the planet’s atmosphere!”
“Grand Senator, Orbit Station Seven’s destruction threw thousands of pieces of debris into the atmosphere,” Admiral Valentine said. “But anything large enough to hit the ground was blasted into fragments by the orbital defence network. Right now, that orbital defence network is in tatters! If we start destroying entire stations, chunks of debris will get through, they will hit the ground and they will cause damage!”
He took a breath. “Your Excellency, this isn't a KEW strike,” he warned. “This is something that could shake the entire planet. A large chunk of rock hitting Earth would kill billions! If it hit the water, it would throw tidal waves in all directions ...”
Stephen stared at him coldly until his voice died away. “You seem to have forgotten your place,” he said. “I put you in command of Earth’s defences to ensure that there was no trouble that might threaten our grip on Earth. I gave you a defence network that had been purged of other patronage networks. I made you what you are.”
His eyes narrowed. “Now tell me, Admiral, are you no longer willing to obey orders?”
“That isn't what I said,” Admiral Valentine stammered. “I just ...”
“Then use the heavier weapons,” Stephen ordered. “This problem cannot be allowed to spread. And once the stations have been taken out, prepare to deploy KEWs against targets on the ground. The food rioters have gone too far. We can rebuild after the dust stops falling.”
“Yes, Your Excellency,” Admiral Valentine said. “I will issue the orders at once.”
“See that you do,” Stephen ordered. “And don’t contact me again until you are ready to proceed with ground-strikes.”
He cut the connection and stood up, looking around the Emperor’s bunker to find the main display. From what the staff had told him, when the Grand Senate had taken over the Palace, the Emperor had kept a private network that was responsive only to people with the right bloodline, something that Stephen had intended to use Roland to circumvent. There was little point in being Emperor when he could rule behind the scenes – and control Roland’s child as soon as he was born. Hell, he didn't even need Lady Lily any longer. Roland could marry one of his daughters and die as soon as the Heir was born. Having a child-ruler had been very helpful ...
Bode was still searching for Roland, he knew, along with a team of soldiers from his personal guard. Communications systems just didn't work well down in the Undercity; it might be hours before Bode checked in with him, even if he had only failure to report. With a skilled and experienced Marine protecting Roland, finding him would be difficult. And yet there was no time to wait for results. If Roland appeared to be in command, the more mutinous units would hesitate ... surely.
And what, a cold voice at the back of his mind asked, if they don’t?
There were already food riots tearing through thousands of cityblocks. Each one was stretching the loyalists to the limit; in fact, he’d had to order the Civil Guard withdrawn from large parts of the planet, just to keep them from being overwhelmed ... when they hadn't joined the rebels in mutiny. At least his own soldiers were still loyal. Their food came from his private stockpile – and besides, they knew better than to expert mercy if he lost ...
And yet, the voice of doubt mocked, what if you lose control completely?
He pushed the thought aside and linked into his own communications network. Devers had managed to catch him by surprise, he admitted to himself, and given him a nasty few moments, but she hadn't managed to gain an overwhelming advantage. Certainly not enough to force him to surrender, or share power with her. And he had a few surprises of his own. The bitch had been paranoid, with very good reason, yet he’d managed to slip one of his people into her patronage network. How could she find a spy who didn't know that he was a spy?
But spying wasn't what he’d really had in mind for that particular agent ...
Grinning, he sent a signal into the communications network and then settled down to wait. He was still in control. Whatever happened next, he would still come out on top.
***
Commodore Levine had been an experienced tactical officer in the Imperial Navy when he'd been offered a chance to transfer to Grand Senator Devers’s personal staff. It had been a hell of an opportunity; the Grand Senator paid well and actually listened to tactical advice. Levine had helped plan her counterattack on the Emergency Committee, even though he’d warned her that the odds of success were not high. But he’d had to agree with her that the only other alternative was kowtowing to the Emergency Committee and hoping that they’d let her keep a few scraps of her once-vast holdings.
He opened the message that blinked up in front of him ... and died, his personality shattering beyond hope of recovery. In its place, a new personality – created by a neural link, then buried at the back of his mind – came forward and took control. It had been stripped down to bare essentials – it certainly couldn't pretend to be Levine for very long – but it would last long enough to carry out its mission. Levine’s body stood up, one hand fingering the pistol at his belt, and walked into the next compartment. The Grand Senator was seated in front of a holographic tactical display, monitoring the battle. She’d been advised to head for the Phase Limit, just in case, but she’d been too stubborn to run. Not, in the end, that it would have mattered.
The part of the buried personality that served as a tactical analyst noted that there was no one in position to defend its target. There were no armed bodyguards, merely a handful of systems operators who were unused to actually firing the pistols on their belts. Devers had trusted her people, using it as a tool to gain loyalty – and she had been right; Levine had been loyal to her. But Levine was no longer in control of his own body.
‘Levine’ drew the pistol, pointed it at her head, and pulled the trigger. By the time anyone realised what had happened, it was far too late. The Grand Senator was dead.
Chapter Forty
What this meant, even before Grand Senator Devers was assassinated, that neither side would win a quick victory. Consequently, the civil war would not only rage out of control – as neither side could back down – but Earth’s massive orbital infrastructure would be degraded and destroyed in the crossfire. And all of this was visible down on Earth.
-Professor Leo Caesius, The End of Empire
Amethyst couldn't help wondering if she was in a state of shock. She felt almost as if she were drifting through life, even though she was being pushed through the corridors by Prince Roland’s bodyguard, a grim-faced woman who looked almost inhuman to Amethyst’s eyes. And yet, she’d matched Richard ... Amethyst still couldn't believe what he’d been, or how easily she’d been manipulated. Or, for that matter, that she’d fired on Richard. By now, all she wanted to do was sit down and rest.
But that wasn't an option. They were in the Undercity – and they were being hunted. Richard - Bode, he’d called himself – had said that there were others after them ... and she wasn’t the only person he’d recruited. For all she knew, there could be hundreds of people searching the Undercity for Prince Roland. God alone knew what they’d do if they caught her, after what she’d done. She truly had nowhere to go.
The darkened corridors and passageways seemed empty, but she could hear people in the distance. Shouts, screams of rage and horror ... all sending chills running down her spine. She wanted to be a long way away from whoever was making those sounds, but it was impossible to tell where they were coming from. Instead, she just kept walking onwards, glancing around nervously. One room seemed to be crammed with dead bodies, all showing the same symptoms as the dead people in the upper parts of the block. How far had the poisonous ration bars sp
read?
She winced as the Prince’s bodyguard propelled her into a darkened chamber, then pushed her face-first against one wall. “Stay there,” a cold voice snarled in her ear. Amethyst was too terrified to do anything, but obey. Richard had been frightening, when she’d seen his mask drop; the Prince’s bodyguard was a thousand times worse. She had never dreamed that such people existed before becoming involved with Richard. And to think that she’d willingly taken him into her bed.
But he wouldn't have taken no for an answer, she thought, numbly. Had he kept her around for sexual pleasure, rather than the planned revolution? God! How stupid had she been? Would she have eventually become a whore, just like the girls in the Undercity, or would he have eventually dumped her to face the music alone? And had he been the one who’d betrayed Jacqueline to the Civil Guard, therefore ensuring that Amethyst had no place to go? It seemed far too possible.
Silently, she tested the duct tape binding her hands. It was too strong to snap; escape was futile. She would just have to hope that Prince Roland wasn't feeling vengeful, even though she’d helped save his life. She’d certainly had a hand in endangering it as well. If not her, it would have been someone else ... but somehow she doubted that argument would impress anyone, least of all the woman who protected the Prince. What was she? No normal human could move like that?
Strong hands caught her and spun her around, then pulled the duct tape away from her mouth. Amethyst yelped in pain as it came free, taking some of her skin with it, then looked up into cold blue eyes. The Prince’s bodyguard looked battered, her clothes were in rags – and yet somehow she managed to look thoroughly intimidating. Amethyst couldn’t meet her eyes for long; she had to look away as the woman studied her. She couldn't help wondering if she was about to have her neck effortlessly snapped and her body left to rot in the Undercity. No one would pay attention to another dead body.
The Empire's Corps: Book 03 - When The Bough Breaks Page 37
