After what seemed an age, the turbulence stopped completely and the lifeboat dropped down below the low cloud cover, ending up only a dozen yards above the choppy, dark green ocean beneath. Inside, Alexander finally wiped away the blood from his mouth and then read the information from what little was left of the sensors. Currently three hundred miles ahead of him, a land mass was rapidly approaching, and the lifeboat would pass over it in nine minutes unless Vimes reduced speed.
“I estimate we have another fifteen minutes of controllable flight left to us, after which we will plummet like a stone, so you need to decide soon what you want to do,” came the calm voice of Vimes over the lifeboats communication system.
“Just get me to shore and find somewhere safe for me to eject, then crash this ship into the sea. I don’t want these primitives to get their hands on what’s left of her technology,” replied Alexander, not at all impressed by his first impressions of the warring humans of this world.
With Vimes piloting, Alexander zoomed the viewscreen onto the coastline, searching for signs that might help him decide what to do. Lumps of metal and canvas littered the beaches and he assumed they were vehicles of some kind. Overhead, flimsy aluminium and steel craft fought in the skies, while other, black, bent-winged craft dropped simple bombs onto the packed beaches below, killing dozens with each strike. Alexander felt Vimes angle the lifeboat upwards so it was masked by the low clouds again.
“Those flying craft don’t appear capable of damaging this lifeboat, even in its current fragile condition,” Vimes advised Alexander, “but I don’t want to take any chances and it’s prudent to stay hidden for as long as possible.”
“What should I do, Vimes, I’m completely out of my depth here?” replied Alexander, scared and feeling sick from worry. What had meant to be a routine Jump before spending six months on the library planet, researching his theory on panspermia and convergent evolution in the galaxy, was turning into a nightmare and one he fervently hoped he would wake from very soon.
“Inject yourself with a shot of preventative battlefield nanites and take that packed bag of emergency rations and supplies from the wall, then strap on those personal repulsors,” Vimes ordered.
Alexander did as he was instructed, unsure about what might happen next. He pocketed several more small canisters of nanites just in case and sat down in the control chair. With the lifeboat several hundred feet in the air, the fast approaching coastline was now clearly visible to the naked eye and the cloud cover was vanishing as they approached the coast and left the open sea behind them.
“Lie down on the floor behind the chair, quickly now, Alexander,” Vimes instructed him. Lying down, Alexander was ashamed to see his hands shaking, even though he knew it was simply adrenalin pumping through his body. “I’ve switched the repulsors on and they will kick in once you leave the lifeboat. Simply think where you want to land and they will take you there.”
“What then?” asked Alexander, as an emergency helmet and gloves began forming around his head and hands.
“Remember your training,” came the reply in his helmet, flex your knees on impact and roll away the downwards momentum. The repulsors will automatically keep you upright on the way down, don’t worry. Now brace!”
With that, the floor vanished and Alexander dropped down into the ice-cold slipstream beneath the lifeboat, before it whisked him away as the craft looped upwards and back out to sea, a sonic boom crashing out from its rapid acceleration. Dropping fast, Alexander tumbled for a few seconds, then felt himself being slowed by the repulsors as they did their job and stabilised him into a controlled descent. Below, the ground was a patchwork of flat fields, marked by hedgerows or stone walls, interspersed with small copses of deciduous trees, some quite large. Small villages dotted the landscape, connected together by winding roads. Before he dropped too low, Alexander caught a glimpse of the coast and in the sky could see several tiny specks approaching his position.
“Are they the same craft that were bombing those soldiers trapped on the beach?” he asked.
“Yes, but don’t worry,” the reassuring voice of Vimes spoke in his head, “you will be down before they reach here, just steer towards that stand of trees over there.”
“They’re not coming to welcome me, are they?” he asked Vimes, wishing he’d had more time to study what little information Vimes had presented him with.
“No, probably not, now concentrate as you land…flex those knees..ready… and roll!”
Alexander's feet hit the ground with a jolt. He rolled awkwardly but quickly got to his feet and ran towards the relative safety of the trees, his helmet’s audio pick-ups warning him the approaching craft were closing in on his position faster than he was comfortable with. Suddenly, a staccato sound, like tearing cloth, came from behind him and clumps of dirt were thrown to his left side, mirroring his route to the trees.
Alexander faltered, unsure what was happening.
“Keep running, you fool,” Vimes annoyed voice shouted loud in his helmet, spurring Alexander to speed up again, not quite believing Vimes had been rude to him. Just as he got to the relative safety of the treeline, the two craft passed overhead with a roar, instantly hidden by the trees. Alexander kept running and managed to avoid most of the sharp branches and thorns as he moved deeper into the thicket of trees. Slightly out of breath, he judged the craft would no longer be able to see him, so watched on his helmets small screen their heat signatures bank and turn back towards the trees. Although sure they couldn’t see him and almost certain they didn’t have any heat-seeking capabilities in their crude craft, he nonetheless stepped behind a thick tree and watched as they roared overhead without firing.
Alexander continued to observe them as they gained altitude and returned back in the direction they’d come from, probably seeking easier prey. He felt a pang of sympathy for the primitives who didn’t have the luxury of hiding, exposed as they were on the sand dunes lining the beach. Satisfied they wouldn’t be coming back, he retracted his helmet and gloves, then checked through his pockets and the survival rucksack he’d quickly jammed his supplies into on the lifeboat, to see if anything had fallen out. After a few moments and pleased nothing had gone missing on the descent, he sat down on a fallen tree and took stock of his situation.
“What were they attacking me with, Vimes?” Alexander asked, his natural curiosity reasserting itself.
“Based on the radio data I’m continuing to monitor, they were probably using small calibre projectiles, accelerated using a simple chemical propellant. Basic, but very effective against unprotected human flesh. A hit to the arm or leg would probably tear it off completely. Nasty, but no worse than our flechettes.”
Alexander rummaged in the rucksack and pulled out an osmosis water bottle, taking a long drink. He switched it on, pleased with himself to have remembered at least that bit of his survival training without any prompting from Vimes. The bottle would now extract moisture from the air and automatically replenish itself, providing him with a steady supply of water for drinking and cooking, providing the air wasn’t too dry. He stood still for a moment, recalling the rest of the training, then searched the bottom of the rucksack and pulled out a long sleeved undershirt made of black impact cloth that would turn rigid if hit with a heavy blow. Quickly removing the top half of his flight suit, he pulled the undershirt over his head, then covered it again with the flight suit.
Although the impact cloth would be a little stiff at first until his body heat warmed it up, he now felt more secure, knowing he had some protection from the projectile weapons used by the natives. Alexander took stock of his surroundings, calling up an aerial map of the area Vimes had downloaded before exiting the lifeboat. He had landed between two small villages about three miles apart. The larger of the two towns nearby was under constant bombardment and with all the debris on the road was a good two-hour walk away. He hadn’t had much sleep in the last two days due to the strain of not knowing if his ship would suddenly disintegrat
e around him, so decided to give the long walk a miss for the moment. Another rummage in the pack brought out an orange flavoured protein bar so he sat down again to eat it, being careful not to reopen the deep bite in his tongue. It had stopped bleeding and he knew it wouldn’t be long before it had healed completely, but he didn’t want to risk taking another chunk out of it until the nanites had done their job.
Above him, the gentle rustling of wind in the branches and leaves was in stark contrast to the intermittent crump of artillery in the distance. Several explosions, one after the other, indicated when a stick of bombs had been dropped and, if he strained his ears, the quieter crack of small arms fire could be made out, reminiscent of the sound made by the flechette weapons from his own world. The lack of available intelligence on the planet both annoyed and frustrated Alexander in equal measure. Used to having the knowledge of nearly four thousand worlds only a thought away, his inability to do anything more than listen in to intercepted radio transmissions made him feel even more cut-off and vulnerable, a very unpleasant feeling.
Alexander replayed the previous day in his mind. It had started out so well, despite a disagreement with his parents, Thomas and Isabella, over his decision to spend six months away from the Palace. His father had almost ordered him to take up a commission with the Marines there and then and it was only the intervention of his mother that avoided a full-blown argument between the two of them. He’d promised to begin taking up his royal duties on return from the library planet but he knew that when the time came he would have found another excuse. Fighting and statecraft held no interest for him and he’d much rather spend his time studying alone or with like-minded friends. His father’s brother, Uncle Marcus, had secretly encouraged him to “be his own man” and follow his heart, as had Duke Frederick, another confidant of his father. Only his Weapons Master, a vicious little brute of a man, insisted on making him train every other day. Not even locking the doors to his apartment could stop the evil fellow from entering and dragging him away from his studies to spar and practice his fighting. To his annoyance, Vimes refused to have him barred from the Palace and he knew better than to go complaining to his father for Thomas held the man in high regard.
“I should have paid more attention,” Alexander said to himself out loud, realising that the lessons the man had tried to instill in him from an early age would almost certainly now come in handy, despite his reluctance to use violence.
“Told you so,” responded Vimes in his head, annoying him even more. “I’ve told you on numerous occasions that learning everything there is to know from books or memory engrams is no substitute for the real thing. Now, here on this miserable planet and in the middle of a war zone, the skills Hiro tried to instill in you may, in all probability, save your life at some point.”
Alexander made a sour face, but said nothing, knowing he could rarely ever change Vimes mind and that, deep down, the old bastard was right and he had been wrong. Again.
“I’ve cracked their simple encryptions and have been monitoring communications. Apart from a radio transmission from one of the pilots which mentioned your landing, our arrival was unnoticed. Given he was accused of having drunk too much schnapps, which I assume is an alcoholic spirit or drug of some kind, I doubt he will say any more on the subject.” Vimes paused, then continued, “there is going to be another concerted attack starting soon, under cover of darkness, by the German side, so I suggest you stay here and get some sleep. Set your helmet to overwatch mode, then try and rest. I’ll wake you at first light.”
“OK,...Vimes?” Alexander began, then hesitated as his helmet formed. “What do you think my chances of surviving this are? Is there any way I can be found by my parents?
“Fifty-fifty for surviving, Alexander, more if you remember and apply your training and don’t let sentiment get in your way. As to Alexander and your mother finding you…I just don’t know, but I rate the probability vanishingly small. Now lie down alongside that fallen tree and get some sleep. You will need to be wide awake tomorrow. I’ll keep monitoring the communication channels and download the language lessons while you sleep. English, French, German and Russian should do for now.”
Alexander did as he was told and made himself a bed of sorts alongside the fallen trunk, then lay down and with a little help from Vimes, began to drift off into a fitful sleep, but not before wondering what new horrors tomorrow would bring.
Scene 9, Duke Fredericks Palace, Kiyami system
Duke Frederick strode purposely across the audience chamber, heading towards his private quarter's next door, where he was due to meet with the leaders of his Navy, trailing worried courtiers and assorted lackeys in his wake. He’d spent part of the morning listening to a procession of minor relatives petitioning him for favours and to excuses from his Barons as to why taxes collected on Kiyami were not meeting projections. In no mood to even pretend at being sociable, he’d finally sent them all away, with veiled warnings to have better news for him next time they met. He paid no attention to the luxurious tapestries and fine artworks adorning the walls and ceiling, his mind focused on what he was going to hear from the DU-499 system and Admiral Ferris. In addition to the morning’s audiences not going well, his decision, taken several days ago, to announce the death of Alexander and Adam before news came in from Admiral Ferris, had been uncharacteristically rash and had left him nervous. He was annoyed with himself and regretted the decision, even though the gullible fool, Alexander, had no chance of escaping the trap he and Ferris had so carefully set for him. The prearranged signal of success was the destabilising of the Jump Point itself, indicating that the Emperor's task force had been all but eliminated and Ferris’ much larger force was poised to show itself and attack. He was certain of Alexander’s death, but the failure of his assassins to also take out his witch of a wife was disappointing. Details of how she had escaped were patchy, but it was of little import, as for the moment she was trapped in her home system just like all the other nobles that weren’t part of the conspiracy.
Internally, he checked the time again, confirming to himself that the Jump Point to system DU-499 would have restabilised by now and it was only the light-speed delay that was stopping him from receiving news confirming his plan had finally succeeded. All along his route, the Palace servants, warned of his approach, made themselves scarce or suddenly found things to do elsewhere, discretely dodging into nearby doorways or looking busy if they couldn’t find anywhere to hide. Not normally known for his patience at the best of times, since making the announcement, the Duke had been more unpredictable than ever, his mood switching between euphoria and anger in an instant, making life even more difficult for those in his service.
Notified in advance of his arrival by their implants and the Palace AI, the two Marines on guard opened the doors to his private chambers and saluted. Frederick ignored them, walking into the foyer, then turned around and dismissed all those following, leaving them to wait outside at his convenience. If he had any concern for their discomfort he gave no sign. Continuing inwards, he passed through yet another set of guarded double doors and walked into a long, high-ceilinged room. The top half was framed with ancient brick arches, filled with stained glass that dappled and coloured the light as it entered, making patterns on the long wooden table which ran down the rooms centre.
Frederick entered the room and everyone stood up, watching him for signs of any news he might have as he strode past them to take his seat at the head of the table. A servant pulled out the chair for him, then hurried away through the door leading to the servants quarters and assembly area, closing the ancient door behind him. Frederick sat down, motioning to those standing around the table to do the same. Once the noise of moving chairs had stopped and he had everyone’s attention, Frederick gestured towards the large holographic display of the Empire which had just come to life above the table, pleased to note that another Sector was now represented in blue, the colour of his forces. Eleven of the thirty-six sectors were now under
his control and showing blue, with the others marked in Imperial orange with a black border. He had been assured by his Commodores that two more would shortly fall once his fleets had succeeded in taking over their strategically important planetary systems.
An android servitor, controlled by the AI, moved smoothly and silently from its alcove behind him and poured a drink from the crystal glass decanter on his right. None of his human servants were trustworthy enough to be allowed to hear what was about to be said in this room.
“Just one of the many changes I’m going to make,” he thought to himself as he watched the ruby red liquid being poured, “yet another ridiculous example of how the Doone family have held the Empire back. Androids are far cheaper than human labour and can work non-stop without having to need holidays or payment. The Doone’s have been sentimental fools, all of them.”
He extended his bejewelled hand to take the wine glass, the precious stones inset into his rings reflecting the light coming down from above. Raising the glass, he spoke.
“Ladies and gentlemen, confirmation of what we already know will be with us shortly. As you can see from the map here and the reports you would have received from me earlier, we now fully control eleven sectors. Unfortunately, Duchess Helena has temporarily eluded our grasp, but it only a matter of time before sector thirteen falls. In addition, Duke Stephen of sector twenty-nine has put up unexpectedly stiff resistance but again is expected to fall shortly before Imperial reinforcements can come to his aid. We have despatched a large task-force there to ensure our success.”
Imperium: Revelation: Book Two in the Imperium Trilogy Page 7
