“So you really don’t know anything about this assassination?” asked Jiminez, looking down at her. “I would like to believe you. I really would. But I can’t take that chance. We have some techs with a mind probe here. So I guess we’ll just have to use them.”
“But,” said Lucille, thinking of the very unpleasant procedure which some people equated with mind rape. “I’m telling you the truth.”
“Perhaps you are,” said Jiminez, motioning for one of the other plainclothes investigators to come over. “But we can’t take that chance right now. I need to know as much as I can about what happened here. I’ll apologize later if I’m wrong.”
The other large man grabbed Lucille Yu by the arm and pulled her out of her chair. Before she could gain her balance or protest she was hustled from the room.
* * *
“You really think she had anything to do with this mess?” said one of the naval investigators.
“I don’t know,” said Jiminez, frowning as he thought of a seated Emperor killed on his watch. “It may not really matter. We need someone to point the public outcry at, and she may have to do. I think we need to send her to Purgatory for a while no matter what the probe shows. As a guest of course, if she warrants it.”
"Why not let her go if the probe shows her to be innocent?" asked the first naval investigator.
"I believe whoever was aboard that fighter had been cleared by standard deep probe," said Jiminez, staring at the naval officer who nodded his head. "Well, obviously something slipped by the probe where that officer was concerned."
"Impossible," said the Commander. "The system is foolproof."
"Never underestimate the power of fools," said Jiminez with a tight smile. "But whatever the cause, there was an unreliable on board that fighter who was not caught in the standard deep mind probe. So a negative result in this case proves nothing. And we may need the facilities of Purgatory to actually break whatever deep conditioning she may be under."
"Filthy place, Purgatory," said one of the Secret Service men, shaking his head.
"Sometimes a necessary place," said the senior IIB man. "Sometimes an escape proof prison is needed for those too dangerous to leave alone and too useful to kill."
"A fool proof prison," chimed in the Commander. "But one must never underestimate the power of fools. At all levels."
Jiminez fixed the naval officer with a stare that would have terrified most men who had entered the IIB man's jurisdiction. But Fleet is not really in my jurisdiction, he thought. The Commander's ass might be out in the wind with his own superiors. But civilian authority would not be able to touch the man while he was in uniform.
“I believe that she is the only one in a senior position at the station who survived the attack,” said the second naval investigator, diverting Jiminez' attention. “We need her here so the station can keep functioning. The Fleet needs the wormholes this station is producing.”
“Just promote some of the subordinates,” said Jiminez, staring at the man. “They should be able to keep everything working. She might be the only lead we have, and we are not going to let her out of our grasp until we are sure that lead goes nowhere. Or we get something else solid to follow. So she gets a trip to Purgatory where she can be isolated from the rest of the Empire until our needs are met.”
“We’ll see about that,” said the Commander, closing his eyes and making a link to someone that Jiminez knew could cause him trouble.
The agent closed his own eyes and sent a transmission through the wormhole gate, knowing that his superior was only three light seconds from that gate, on the planet Jewel. And soon there would be a jockeying for power as everyone tried to save their asses and find a scapegoat.
* * *
The Emperor’s death, along with that of his wife and his Heir, were the only things on the news channels of Jewel. The news would soon reach the nearer Core Worlds over the hyperwave relay system. And a message was surely heading to the Fleet HQ in Sector Four, where it would be sent by courier to inform Prince Sean that he was now the ruler of the most powerful human kingdom in the known universe.
It went well, thought Prime Minister Count Mejoris Jeraviki, watching the talking heads on the holo. The entire family had been more or less wiped out, with no surviving remains, either of them or the assassin, his reports had stated. Now they have to get the message back that the third son is also dead and we will be able to put our puppet in place.
“It went well, didn’t it,” said a soft voice from the shadows of the study. The Prime Minister jumped in his skin for a second, both at the sound of the voice and the repeating of his recent thoughts.
“As promised,” he said, turning to look at the tall, dark man emerging from the shadows. “I am sure your mysterious employers will be well satisfied with the results.”
“And you will become the true power behind the throne, my dear Count,” said the man, bowing toward the noble with a smile on his face. "How feels it to be at the pinnacle of power for one not born of the Imperial Family."
"It feels good," said the Prime Minister, looking down at his hands. The hands that would hold the power of the Empire. He glanced up and a worried look crossed his face. "Are you sure no one will trace your activities to me? It would mean my life if anyone were to find out that I had anything to do with the death of the Imperial Family,
The dark man smiled for a moment while shaking his head.
"My employers were afraid that you might show fear in this situation," said the man, the smile never leaving his face.
"Who wouldn't be afraid," said the Prime Minister, turning away and walking to a cabinet near the fireplace where he kept liquor. "They will be turning over every stone looking for the head of the plot. The Imperial Investigation Bureau and the Secret Service will be tripping over each other in their efforts to bring someone before the people. Someone they can point the finger to and say, 'here is the devil who killed the Emperor'. And then they will parade him before the people and make an example for those who contemplate regicide."
"One such as you," the dark man said under his breath.
"What was that," said the Prime Minister, pulling a bottle of fine Scotch from the cabinet.
"Nothing," said the dark man as he pulled a heavy pistol from under his coat. He quickly set the charge and pointed the weapon at the Prime Minister. He waited until the man turned with bottle in hand. The Count's eyes went wide as he saw the pistol, and his mouth silently formed the word no.
The dark man fired the heavy military laser on a wide beam, holding the trigger down for two seconds as it pumped eight hundred megawatts of energy into the Prime Minister and the wall behind him. Clothing flared to ash and flesh flashed to vapor. The bottle in his hand burst in a fireball of burning alcohol and glass vapor. The man's bones caught fire, much of it turning to superheated powder. The wall behind the Prime Mister caught on fire as paint vaporized and an old painting flashed to ash. The liquor cabinet ashed under the heat, said ash blown into the air as the bottles within exploded.
The dark man stepped back from the heat as he lowered the pistol, shielding his face with his other hand. Before him were the remains of the Prime Minister, some blackened pieces of his major bones and ash that was swirling around in the flames. Alarms sounded through the otherwise quiet house. The dark man took aim at the floor and fired another long burst, destroying the bone fragments and turning the hard rock that had been hidden by the carpet into lava.
The job completed, the dark man shook his head and faded back into the shadows. He did not kill for pleasure, though it had been a pleasure to eliminate this loose end. If he tarried there would be others that would see him, and he would be forced to kill again.
Chapter 4
War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse. The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than
his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself. John Stewart Mill
Lt. Colonel Samuel Baggett ducked his head and stepped out of the shuttle onto the hard surface of the landing field. He squinted his eyes as he looked up into the light blue sky at the bright disk of the F class star. He jumped up and down for a second, whistling in satisfaction. It felt good to have real gravity under his feet again, even if it was a little more than that of his last duty station. Somehow the graviton generators on board ship never got it quite right, though it was better than zero gee, or being squashed by tremendous acceleration.
"Some different smells, sir," said Sergeant Major Zacharias as he followed the Colonel out of the shuttle.
Baggett nodded his head as he brought the air into his nose. It smelt of green growing things, flowers, and an unidentifiable musky odor. Cleaner than that damned Lasharan world, he thought. There were bound to be some aliens here as well, since some of the species of the Empire tended to follow humans to the frontier. But they would not be the kind of aliens to shoot at his men from concealment.
"Smells good to me, Terry," said Baggett, looking out over the landing field where a dozen other shuttles had landed. Heat waves rose from the tarmac and the skins of the landing craft. Men were forming up into platoons in front of each shuttle as he watched, their platoon leaders and sergeants making sure all was in order. As he watched four of the platoons marched off and formed up into a company.
The high whine of engines caught his attention and he turned to see three more shuttles coming in for a landing. His eyes automatically scanned the surrounding buildings of the town before he caught himself and allowed himself to relax.
"Nice to come in on a world where we are welcome, eh, sir," said the Sergeant Major, smiling up at the taller officer.
"Guilty as charged, Sergeant Major," said the Colonel with a laugh. "It will take a while to get the eyes taken out of the back of my head."
"Perhaps we can relax a bit then, sir," said the battalion's top NCO. "Be nice to not have to worry about the populace hitting us with rockets at night."
"We've still got to keep the boys and girls sharp, Terry," said the Colonel, nodding toward up field where some transports had landed and were loading up troops. "We can't afford a slack unit. It could hit the fan any moment out here. And we have to be ready for it."
"Let the children blow off a little steam first, sir," cautioned the Sergeant Major. "We'll get to working their asses soon enough."
Lt. Colonel Baggett nodded while he watched an air car come in for a landing about a hundred meters away. A squat man in the dress reds of an Imperial Marine officer jumped from the car and trotted toward the shuttle.
"See to the troops, Sergeant Major," said Baggett, turning to his NCO. Zacharias snapped to attention and rendered a perfect parade ground salute which Baggett returned with the same crispness. Can't let those of our sister service think we're sloppy, thought the Colonel as he turned toward the approaching Marine.
“Captain Glen McKinnon, Colonel” said the Marine in a loud voice, snapping to the position of attention and rendering a precise salute. Baggett returned the salute with the sloppier version normally rendered by a superior to inferior rank. The Marine dropped his salute and put out a big right hand, his blue eyes twinkling from his smiling freckled face.
“Good to meet you, Captain,” said Baggett, grasping the offered hand in a firm grip. “Are you the official welcoming committee?”
“Sort of,” said the Marine, wiping a trickle of sweat from his forehead with his left hand. “My company will be working with your battalion as support and orientation.”
“And your company is?”
“Company C. First of the Two Ninety Ninth Marines, sir,” said the younger officer with a smile. “Heavy Infantry.”
“So you’ll be my fire company,” said Baggett, looking out over the field where another trio of shuttles was coming in for a landing.
“Yes sir,” said the Marine, gesturing toward his air car. “If the Colonel would please follow me to our transport I’ll take you to Planetary Ground Forces HQ where we can get you oriented.”
“Lead on,” said Baggett. The Marine turned away and led him toward the air car, leaving the Colonel to walk with his own thoughts to the vehicle. The car was Imperial Red with the globe and anchor symbol of the Marines on both sides and the front hood. The Colonel knew the car could easily change its spots, becoming whatever color scheme was best for the situation. It was unarmed as far as he could see, but that too could be changed.
Baggett buckled into the front passenger seat as the Marine officer fed power from the generators to the grabber units. The car lifted smoothly from the ground and turned away from the city, over flying the field and the activity. Soon they were over rolling hills that had been planted in terrestrial grain crops which swayed in the breeze.
“This is a hot world, Colonel,” said the Captain, glancing over at the Imperial Army officer. “Probably a lot hotter than you’re used to.”
“I’ll have you know, Captain,” said Baggett, staring at the other man. “I was under fire on a daily basis where my battalion was stationed last. My men were constantly under fire from a hostile populace. I really don’t think this world will be as hot as you think.”
“No shit,” said the Marine, his eyes widening. “Where were you stationed?”
“On one of the Lasharan conquest worlds,” said Baggett, his eyes taking on the faraway look that only one who has lived in combat can achieve.
“I can see what you meant by hot,” said the Marine, whistling. “But I’m talking about temperature. That’s an F Class star up there. And it will burn you clean up if you’re out in it too long. I had problems with peeling like a sunburned baby when I first got here. Finally got the nanites working right though, so now all I do is sweat.”
“Unless you’re in the air conditioned suits,” said the Colonel, a tone of envy in his voice.
“There is that,” said the Marine, nodding his head. “Almost makes it pleasant to go on maneuvers. They make damned big targets though, compared to a man in the light armor you’re used to.”
A trumpeting sound came to the Colonel’s ears as they passed over a field and into what looked like feathery native vegetation. An open field of fernlike plants came into view. Some large blocky animals moved across the field, stopping occasionally to crop the ferns, while others of the herd browsed at the tree line.
“Some of the native life,” said the Captain as he brought the air car down to buzz the creatures. They stared at it with small eyes. A few of the larger bulls trumpeted challenges to the nuisance while the rest continued on with feeding their bulks.
“Not really dinosauroids,” continued the officer as he pulled over the trees and continued on his way. “More mammalian. Those were a herd of the mid ranged herbivores. Up to thirty tons on the hoof.”
“Thirty tons,” hissed the Colonel. “That seems pretty damned big to me.”
“Seemed that way to me too. Until I saw some of the real giants. And you need to watch out for the carnivores. They can get up to twenty tons.”
“Do they look at us as food?” asked the Colonel. “Are we compatible proteins?”
“Yes and no,” answered the Captain, aiming the car for a flat topped hill that loomed ahead. “They look at anything that moves that they are capable of bringing down as food. And we are not compatible. Which won’t stop them from filling their bellies with indigestible human meat and suffering indigestion later.”
“Right,” said Baggett, watching a large biped moving through the trees, stalking a larger herbivore. “So go armed in the back country.”
“At all times,” said the Captain. “We’re always being scrambled out to the brush to rescue some idiot who gets surrounded or stranded or some fool stunt. Or to try and recover the remains of said fool.”
The air car slowed as it
came over the hill, then stopped and dropped toward the flat top. With a slight thud the car touched down. The Captain unstrapped and left the car, the Colonel on his heels. They headed for a ten meter diameter pad near the center of the flattop. As they reached the center the Captain whispered something under his breath and the circle began to drop down into the hill. After twenty meters a thick piece of alloy slid closed overhead.
“This is the secondary Planetary Defense HQ,” said the Captain as they continued down another hundred meters. “There are several other entrances in. Place wouldn’t stand up to much if it were targeted though, so primary is under one of the mountains in the Cascades range, about three hundred klicks from here.”
The lift came to a stop and the men stepped off. It went back up as soon as they stepped away.
“It’s a central capsule for a destroyer,” said the Captain as they walked down a corridor. “Not much protection, but all they really thought they needed when it was first put in.”
“Same companies as built the shelters for all the cities on the core worlds I would guess,” said Lt. Colonel Baggett. Wall fixtures were the same as he had seen in his tour of a shelter on New Brandenburg.
“The same,” agreed the Captain, who had spent quite a bit of time in the heavily shielded crew compartments of warships. “They mass manufacture them, without some of the warship fixtures of course, and dig them into the ground where needed. That way the populace has someplace to hide if the enemy brings the shit to the system. I think even the capital has several thousand battleship central capsules linked so they can cram three billion people into emergency barracks if they need to.”
“More like tens of thousands of shelters,” said the Colonel as they walked the corridor. “Linked with military shelters and a network of connections. Like it will ever really be used. Anyone gets that far into the Empire through the Fleet and we’re truly fucked. They make sense out here though. Any decent task force can take the high ground on one of these worlds, and maybe the citizens can hold out for a while underground until relief comes.”
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 2 Page 7
