Another pause. The grand admiral still held her silence. “I’ve been checking over the second and top floor, and I think I’ve spotted a couple of power brokers. Two of them are at the desk that send down the messages. I think they consider themselves cock of the walk. I also found a couple of officers on the top floor that might be only too willing to make a grab for the crown if they had a chance.”
Megan paused before summing up her opinion. “Despite my preference for killing as few as possible, if you left this in my hands, Kris, I’d go for the wide cut. It’s better to decapitate this entire command team than risk this place turning into a nursery for tyrants.”
“You have good instincts, Lieutenant. I, Her Royal Highness, Grand Admiral Princess Kristine Anne Longknife, order you to execute the decapitation mission as you have defined it.”
Megan felt goose bumps all over her body. She’d been around Kris Longknife for going on five years, but she’d never seen her come the full royal princess/grand admiral before.
She was kind of glad she didn’t have to stand too long in that presence.
“Aye, aye, Admiral. Our mission is go.”
It didn’t take Lily long to arrange eighty-nine killer squadrons of nanos. She held them in waiting until she had a deadly swarm for each of those chosen to die.
“I am ready now,” Lily announced on net.
Megan waited for two seconds to see if Kris would give the order. Before the silence could go long, she filled it. “Execute the decapitation of the planet Zargoth’s political and military command and control personnel.”
“The order is given,” Lily replied.
It didn’t take long for the results to start showing up.
The bottom floor only had nineteen targets, eleven men and eight women. Lily hit them with enough killer nanos that they hardly had time to realize they were dying. The men, with four of the women, were standing around a broad map table, looking at what they knew of the battle for their planet. They seemed content with the situation.
Suddenly, blood began gushing from their beaks. They stared at each other, transfixed by what was happening around the table. Then, almost as one, they collapsed to the floor or sprawled across the table. Blood spread on the maps, marking the end of their rule.
On the third floor, there were more men, forty, marked for death along with nine women. Some were in meetings, others eating. A few of the men were cavorting with women. Two of the women were in bed together with one fellow. Their assigned swarms were smaller than those used on the fourth floor. It took them a bit more time to die. Still, as one, they fell, bleeding and screaming.
Their screams were mingled with those of the female courtesans as they panicked and added to the confusion. That only grew worse, when the four guards also panicked and began spraying automatic weapons fire wildly around the floor.
“Lily, put them down.”
It took a long minute to get enough nanos up their beaks. Many of the nanos that had been used were wet with blood and needed time to recover before they could fly.
They got even more vicious as they began to bleed, firing at anything that moved. Over half of the women were dead or seriously wounded before the guards bled out.
The situation on the second floor was less confusing. Fewer people died. Still, the guards panicked and started shooting up anyone close to them or, if they happened to be near someone who died, they shot up anyone around the dying Iteeche.
There were fewer nanos available on the second floor, and it took Lily more time to muster an attack on the gun-wielding guards. Still, in time, they fell, and the more that died, the worse the survivors became. It wasn’t as bad of a blood bath as the third floor, but there were still a lot of dead scattered around the different work, food, and rest areas.
Megan turned to the guardroom last, expecting things to be better under control. After all, there were hundreds of soldiers and she only targeted a dozen or so officers for execution.
It didn’t work out like she expected.
Many of the officer’s dying breaths held orders for one company to attack another. Each officer assumed that one of his fellow leaders had marked him for death.
Soon, one faction was fighting it out with the other. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. The wall partitions on this floor were thin; they hardly slowed down a bullet, much less stopped one. Somehow a four-way fight developed. The rattle of automatic weapons fire didn’t fall silent until there were only five left alive.
Still, those five stalked the others through the carnage. First one, then another, would be found and killed. It ended, fittingly enough, with the last two shooting each other.
“Megan, are you recording this?”
“Yes, Admiral.”
“I left Jacques back on the capital. He’s going to want to see this.” Megan could almost see Kris shaking her head. “This is a part of the Iteeche culture I would not have expected.”
“No, ma’am. Neither would I.” A shiver shook Megan’s entire body, powerful as an earthquake. “I wanted to spare their lives. I really wanted to.”
“You did,” Kris said. “You did. What they did, they did to themselves. Can you get the elevator working?”
“I think so,” Lily said.
“Take the courtesans off the fourth floor first. Keep an eye on them. There may be one that dreams of the purple and becoming a new Empress Theodora.”
“Understood, Admiral,” Megan said, and personally oversaw the process of bringing the women up the elevator and into the mist-filled room where human guards moved them upstairs.
They were a pretty bedraggled bunch, and after passing through the sprinkler mist, they looked even worse. At the broken escalator, many threw off their sodden, gossamer gowns . . . now totally transparent . . . and walked forward to face their new world naked.
“Megan, can you get me on speakers on every floor of the bunker?” Kris asked.
“The quality won’t be so good on the second and third floor of the deep bunker, but the rest of the redoubt should hear you.”
“I’m told we’ve hacked their entire planetary comm net. Let’s see how this works.”
27
“This is Imperial Admiral of the First Order of Steel Kris Longknife, Royal Highness of the United Societies, Chosen Battle Commander of King Raymond Longknife,” Kris said. She knew the Iteeche went in for long names. She wasn’t about to short change herself.
“I command the Imperial Navy’s Combined Battle Fleets, as well as the battle fleet over your planet, Zargoth. I command the invasion fleet only hours away from orbit,” she went on.
“The proper fruit of treason is death, and I have executed your planetary overlord for said treason to his worshipfulness, Your Emperor. Along with him, I have executed his band of mis-chosen clan chiefs and those who served them. Dead as well, are your military commanders that stood ready to obey such treasonous orders.”
Kris paused. They now knew who she’d killed. They knew the threat hanging over them. Now to offer the carrot. “All those who are deserving of death are now dead. It remains for you, the living, to choose if you will return to the service your Worshipful Emperor or choose to die. Aboard the invasion fleet are leaders from the clans on your planet, Zargoth. These fine Iteeche are from the faction of your clan who have not raised their banner against their lawful and worshipful Emperor. If you submit to them, you will not be harmed.”
This time Kris paused to let that thought sink in. All around this planet, people who had been counting themselves as dead for the last minute or so needed time to realize that life was an option. “If you do not submit, our invasion fleet will destroy your cities and kill you where you stand. Your army has lost its leaders. It cannot help you. If you resist strongly, we will laser your defenses from orbit and melt the rocks into your flaming tombstone.
“The city leaders have two hours to announce their surrender or I will begin destroying your cities from the inside out. Choose wisely. That is all.�
�
Kris eyed the comm unit above the main screen. When it blinked from green to red, she still asked Nelly, “Am I no longer transmitting?”
“The net is now dead,” Nelly replied. “We have blocked communication among cities. They still have their local net to check among themselves to see what they want to do, but they can’t get any word from city to city to organize resistance.”
“Good,” Kris said, then turned to reinforcing her ultimatum. “Megan, have you identified any leaders on the second floor of the overlord’s private bunker?”
“I can send down the LT with a few rifles to see if anyone will offer up themselves.”
“You do that. I’d like to have a few familiar faces backing up what I’ve just announced. Take five or six of them on a tour of the third and fourth level. Be sure to get some good pictures of the dead with faces easy to identify. Also, don’t skimp on panoramic views of those palatial digs. From what I hear, belts have been mighty tight of late.”
“Will do, Admiral. Show that the dead are dead and that they’ve been feasting while everyone else starved. I think I can retrieve some video of the courtesans being led away, as well.”
“Move quickly. I’ve given them two hours. It would be nice if this got out an hour from now.”
“I’m on it,” Megan reported, and cut the connection.
Kris turned to her key staff. “Well, we seemed to have pulled that off well.”
“We got the fifty-one high value targets we wanted,” Jack summed up, “and held the rest of the killing to a minimum. Except for that self-inflicted blood bath, we kept it clean.”
“Possibly too clean,” Kris said, and turned to two of her advisors attending the meeting on screen.
The first one was beaming, as much as an Iteeche could beam with their beak. “No bloody invasion. It’s fine by me,” Imperial Admiral of the Second Order of Steel Coth said. “This planet is barely skimping by. You turn loose several hundred thousand soldiers and you’ll wreck the place. There would be starvation and even more deaths in the invasion’s wake. No. When the pictures of how the Planetary Overlord died gets around, I suspect you will find the other city lords and clan leaders much more willing to listen when you offer them the opportunity to surrender.”
“I like your logic,” Kris said. “It is mine as well. However, logic is not always the way to go. Ron, what’s your take on this?”
Ron’sum’Pin’sumChap’sum’We was the other Iteeche still on his flagship and attending this confab by net. He was Kris’s first Iteeche contact, and she considered him a friend. That alone allowed her to get away with calling an Imperial counselor Ron.
The counselor today was dressed in full, multicolored, shimmering regalia. If a surrender could be arranged, he would lead the official delegation. While he commanded a fleet wing under Coth, at such civil ceremonies, the admiral would walk in his wake.
Kris, of course, walked in no one’s wake. Well, no one but King Raymond the First, and whatever title the young Emperor used that didn’t take fifteen minutes to yell out.
Ron was not smiling.
“I do fear that your success will be like ash in the beak of several clan leaders. It could be less, depending on some things. How many lower clan leaders do you intend to have offer Sincere Apologies to the Emperor for their treason?”
“How many?” Jack asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow.
“In a normal invasion,” Ron explained, “the army would be tasked with digging out all the clan leaders, down to the most junior level. Them and their chosen mates.”
“No wonder you mess up the place,” Jack said. “I don’t imagine they come willingly.”
“No. Usually they and their armed retainers will put up quite a fight. To avoid being lazed from orbit, they usually do it within a very built-up area.”
“So they use the common Iteeche as both hostages and shields,” Kris said.
“More likely than not. However, once all those traitors are rooted out, there are many clan leadership positions open for junior sons. They, and the retainers that follow, are usually allowed to choose liberally from their spawn. There are usually quite a few opportunities to slip their spawn into skilled crafts and management positions in the newly conquered world.”
Kris exchanged a telling glance with Jack. More and more they were discovering uglier aspects about this Empire they’d been led to first believe. There was no question they’d respect King Ray’s assigning them to do what the Iteeche wanted. It had, after all, been the price of the chance to open diplomatic and trade relations with the Empire.
Still, the more and more they learned, the less and less they liked.
Kris faced Ron. “To me, as a human, we have cut off the head of the rebellion on Zargoth. Those who chose to rebel are dead. Those who were merely doing what their superior clan leaders chose for them to do have not earned capital punishment. Does it really serve the Empire for a planet to be racked with destruction?”
Ron eyed Kris with all four of his large eyes. “To anyone who looks at it that way, yes, you are right. However, there are those who look at it another way and see it as their just deserts for staying loyal to the Emperor. For those who see their family and clan advancing over the dead of a rebellious clan, there is also a logic. And please, my Eminent Admiral and Princess, remember that if the rebels win, they will slaughter the population of entire planets so that they may bring in their own people and repopulate it.”
That was the grim reality of how the Iteeche played this game of loyalty and rebellion. The rebel rarely won, but when they did, they ruled the Empire for a thousand years.
Kris mulled over these two different objectives. One would get her the quick surrender of this planet. The other would mean a long slow slog, tying her battle fleet up in orbit for months if not longer. That, of course, assumed that she could find an army to invade this planet in less than a month.
“Do you have an army that we can use to take over this planet, brick by brick?” she asked Ron
“No, Your Royal Highness. Neither my clan, the Chap’sum’We clan, nor their allies have been able to muster the million soldiers needed to reduce this planet.”
“Then you may inform the clans that, lacking an army, I will capture this planet using the ways of my people. Once you can muster the required army, I will be glad to let you reduce a planet by your custom.”
Ron made a strangled sound, which Kris had learned was an Iteeche laugh. “It is wise of you to offer my clan superiors a chance to do it their way when they can muster the forces. Since they have not, you are merely doing what you can. This will play well among many of the younger clan leaders. Let their elders play their games and kill each other. Why should those who gamble for such low stakes have to pay the ultimate forfeit?”
“Good,” Kris said.
“So tell me, Your Royal Highness,” Ron went on, “If your battle fleet is not to spend the next few months lounging here in orbit, what will you do with this force?”
“How about win the war?” Kris replied.
She’d never heard an Iteeche gasp. She found herself watching as two different Iteeche, from completely different walks of life, an admiral who had worked his way up from the deck plates, and an Imperial counselor who often stood in the presence of the Emperor, showed her just how an Iteeche responded to shocking news.
28
An hour later, the pictures from the Planetary Overlord’s private suite in his bunker, along with those from the third floor were broadcast to every location on the planet, along with a renewed demand for their surrender. From dirtside, questions circulated about what might happen to junior clan leaders if they did surrender.
Kris offered them the chance to live.
An hour after that, city ruler after city ruler was falling all over themselves to offer their formal surrender. Of course, anything the Iteeche did had to be done formally. However, since no one had ever formally surrendered and survived the experience, the opportunitie
s for ceremonial creativity were wide open.
Two cities, however, refused to surrender. Apparently, the local clan princes did not trust a Longknife. After all, she was just human.
Kris had both city palaces lazed from orbit and gave them one more hour to reconsider their choice. “The next time, we will not limit our lasers to just the governor’s palace.”
Within the hour, two minor officials were on the net begging Kris to hold her fire and informing her that not only the city governor was dead, but also a whole pile of middle-grade clan leaders.
Kris called up Ron. “Will that make some more of the clan leaders happy?”
“Possibly,” he said, cagily. “It will at least clearly show that you meant what you said and backed it up with fire from the sky.”
“Good. Can you advise the new incoming clan leaders that I need them on the ground pronto? You can take the surrender of the old clan leaders, but I want to get this change of command over and done with as quickly as possible.”
“The bi-pentareme with the clan lordlings and junior officials has been accelerating ahead of the merchant fleet. They should be here by tomorrow.”
“Then we shall schedule the official surrender for tomorrow.”
“So, tell me,” Ron said. “You have rushed the reduction of this planet. You have a fleet of two thousand battlecruisers at your command. What do you do next?”
“I am waiting for reinforcements,” Kris said. “When they arrive, we’ll see what options we have.”
“You are not very forthcoming,” Ron said. “One would almost take you for an Imperial counselor of the first order.”
“Ron, we humans have been intriguing for a long, long time. Unlike the Iteeche Empire, we’ve done our intriguing, power against power. You have court intrigue. We have intrigues that cover hundreds of planets. I sincerely doubt you can teach us much. I will not claim that I can teach you any new tricks. However, my tricks will have the advantage of being new and different. Let us wait and see.”
Kris Longknife Page 14
