General Beckett’s voice sounded now and then through his comm implant, suggesting he had done enough, and should stand down while his men took care of the mopping-up, but he wouldn’t listen. He knew where he was needed. And when Beckett’s voice grew harsh, questioning his actions and his motives, Dram just laughed and invited Beckett to come down and get his hands bloody, too. Beckett declined, and Dram laughed again. After this town was pacified there would be more towns, and then the cities. There was so much work still to be done, and he couldn’t wait to get to it.
It did occur to him to wonder if his original would have felt the same. He liked to think so. That he was more than just a shadow of the original. The first Dram lived on within him, guided and shaped by the legacy of his diaries, and the fire that burned within him. In every way that mattered, he was the Lord High Dram, Warrior Prime by popular acclaim, Widowmaker by destiny.
He strode on through blood and death and the fires of Hell, and no one could touch him. It was as though he was . . . blessed. It never occurred to him to wonder by whom.
Captain Silence, Investigator Frost, and Security Officer Stelmach stumbled out of the wreckage of their downed pinnace and ran for the partial shelter of a burnt-out building. The war machines were everywhere, big and small, destroying what had once been a fair-sized town with ruthless, inhuman precision. Energy beams spit in all directions, exploding stonework and setting fire to the timbers and thatched roofs. It was just such a beam that had struck Silence’s ship, despite the security codes he was broadcasting. The Investigator had identified the craft and its occupants repeatedly over the comm unit, but no one was listening. The disrupter beams just kept stabbing up out of the dark roiling smoke covering the town, punching through the pinnace’s low-level shields again and again. With the engines stuttering and the cabin full of fire and smoke, Silence had no choice but to bring the pinnace in for an emergency landing. They plunged down through the smoke, jockeying between tall buildings and taller war machines. Silence chose the broadest street at hand and guided the dying ship down to a landing only one step up from a crash. It hit hard, skidding half the length of the street before slamming nose first into a boundary wall, but it held together and the engines didn’t explode, and Silence had enough sense to be grateful for that.
The three of them huddled inside what was left of the building, little more than half a dozen walls blackened by fire and holed by repeated impact blasts, and half a roof still quietly smoldering. Silence and Frost took it in turn to peer briefly out the shattered window. The war machines roared up and down, pounding the remaining buildings into rubble. Fires blazed and men screamed. Robots in the shape of men rounded up strays and killed them with horrible efficiency. All around them were the sounds of a town dying, and the triumph of machines. Silence checked the energy levels in his disrupter, and growled angrily to himself about heads rolling when he got back. The Investigator was calm as always, assessing the odds against them with a professional eye. Without the security codes used by Dram’s ground forces, the war machines would treat them as legitimate targets. Stelmach stood with his back pressed against the wall, refusing to look out the window. His heart was pounding, and he had to struggle to get his breath, but the hand holding his gun was steady. Being around Silence and Frost had toughened him despite himself. Silence looked at Frost.
“How far are we from where we’re supposed to be?”
“According to the pinnace’s last readings, not too far. Maybe half a mile. Easy walking distance, under normal conditions.”
“Which these very definitely aren’t.” Silence scowled, weighing their chances. “As things are, half a mile is going to be hard going. Even for us. Investigator, try and raise the Deathstalker Standing again.”
Frost accessed her comm implant and shook her head. “Still no joy. The war machines are blocking all channels except their own, and I don’t have the security codes to access theirs. We’re going to have to make it to the Standing on our own.”
“We’re doomed,” said Stelmach.
“Walk in the park,” said Silence briskly. “Ail right, there are a hell of a lot of war machines out there, but their main priority is wrecking the town. And the androids are only concerned with mopping up resistance. As long as we keep our heads down and don’t interfere, we should be safe enough.”
“Should being the operative word,” said Stelmach. “Couldn’t we just stay here till the machines get bored and go away?”
And then they all flinched as the building next door exploded into smoke and fire and stone shrapnel as a war machine targeted it with its disrupters. The ground shook beneath their feet, and what was left of the house groaned. A jagged crack ran down the wall Stelmach was leaning against, and he jumped away. Streams of dust and soot fell from the ceiling. Flames rose up, consuming what little remained of the building next door, and Silence had to back away from the heat coming through the shattered window.
“The machines won’t stop here till there’s nothing left but rubble,” he said flatly. “We’ll have to run for it. Stick close to us, Stelmach. You’ll be safe.”
“Can I have that in writing?” said Stelmach.
“You can have my boot up your backside if you don’t stop whining,” said Frost. “Now get moving, or I’ll kill you myself.”
Stelmach glared at her mutinously, but had the sense not to say anything else. Investigators weren’t known for their tolerance. Silence edged over to the open space where the door had been and looked out cautiously. The majority of the war machines seemed to be moving away. The huge war wagons were moving off through the billowing smoke, slow and steady like great land whales. Other machines roared or flew after them, disrupter beams still stabbing out like petulant slaps at what remained standing in the town. And robots shaped like mockeries of men stamped after them, dried blood coating their metal limbs. Silence stared after them, feeling small and insignificant. He wasn’t used to feeling that way, and he hated it. He looked back at the others.
“All right, let’s get moving while there’s still enough rebel resistance left in the town to keep the machines occupied. If we can make it beyond the town’s boundary, it should be relatively easy going to the Standing. Investigator, we are running, not fighting. I don’t want you doing anything destructive that might draw the machines’ attention to us. Is that clear?”
“Of course, Captain,” said Frost. “I shall endeavor to restrain myself.”
“That’ll be a first,” said Stelmach, and then shut up as the Investigator turned her cold gaze on him.
“Move it out,” said Silence, and led the way through the space where the door had been.
They stuck to the shadows and the smoke as much as they could, taking shelter and freezing in place whenever one of the machines seemed to be getting too close. Stelmach was terrified, but gritted his teeth and clenched his fists and somehow kept it to himself. He knew why the war machines had attacked the pinnace. Back on the Elegance, General Beckett himself had taken Stelmach to one side and ordered him to set the wrong security codes in the pinnace, so that it would be sure to come under fire. The Empress wanted Silence and Frost to be caught up in the action on the ground, so that they might have a chance to show off their alleged powers. If no natural opportunity arose, Stelmach was under orders to manufacture opportunities by whatever means necessary, then report on the results. Stelmach had wanted to say no. He’d wanted to warn Silence and Frost. But he hadn’t. He couldn’t. They were his friends, but his orders came from the Iron Throne itself. One loyalty had to give way to another, and Stelmach had sworn an oath upon his name and his honor to serve the Empress all his days, until death, if need be. His duty was clear. But still, as he stumbled along behind Silence and Frost, amidst the fires and smoke and devastation, he felt so bad he wanted to die.
He was thinking so hard he never saw the combat android step out of a side alley and aim a disrupter at him. Frost saw it, and knocked him aside at the last moment, throwing him to
his knees. The energy beam seared over his head and blew apart the wall behind him. The top half disappeared, vaporized into brick dust, but the shattered lower half leaned forward and collapsed on top of Stelmach. He cried out once, raising his arms to protect his head, and then the bricks fell on him and slammed him to the ground, crushing him under their weight.
Silence blew the robot’s grinning head away with a single shot, but its body didn’t fall, so Frost shot out one of its knees, just to make sure. The metal body fell clattering to the ground, its steel limbs thrashing helplessly. Frost moved forward and yanked the disrupter from its hand, and shot the machine in the chest. It stopped moving. Silence and Frost put away their guns and hurried over to pull at the rubble covering Stelmach. He could hear them working, but he couldn’t see anything. The smoke and dust had filled his eyes with tears. He could feel the weight of the broken wall pressing down on him like a bully in a schoolyard, but he didn’t seem to be badly hurt. He could still feel his hands and feet, though he couldn’t move an inch, trapped under what felt like half a ton of masonry. He lay still, breathing shallowly as the great weight pressed against his chest. They were calling his name, but he couldn’t seem to find the energy to answer them. His pain seemed far away. He felt almost peaceful.
And then he heard the sound of approaching metal feet. Silence and Frost didn’t seem to have heard them, still occupied in dragging bricks off him. Stelmach blinked his eyes as hard as he could, forcing the tears and dust out until he could see again. They’d cleared a space over his face so he could breathe, and looking past Silence and Frost laboring to free him, Stelmach could see a company of combat androids striding down the street toward them. And it occurred to Stelmach that he could just keep quiet. The robots might not notice him, still buried under rubble. They might just kill Silence and Frost and then go on, and he’d be safe. All he had to do was keep his mouth shut. But he couldn’t do that. They were his friends.
He forced the warning out, yelling as loud as he could. Silence and Frost whipped around, saw the robots approaching, and their hands went to the guns at their sides. Only then remembering that they’d already used their disrupters on the first android, and the energy crystals in their guns still needed time to recharge before they could be used again. All they had were their swords. Metal blades against men made of metal, all of them armed with disrupters. Stelmach yelled at Silence and Frost to run. To leave him and run. But they stood their ground. They looked at each other, eyes locked on eyes, almost ignoring the advancing robots. Something passed between them—anger or desperation or something that might have been resignation. They turned to face the androids, who raised their disrupters. Stelmach tried again to yell for his friends to run, but he couldn’t force the words past his dust-choked throat.
And then a great force arose around Silence and Frost, a presence beating on the still air like giant wings, building and building until it struck out in a rolling wave of power that tore the robots apart and scattered their shattered parts the length of the street. As quickly as it had arisen, the force was gone, and Silence and Frost were only, merely, human again. They looked at each other for a long moment, then they turned and looked at Stelmach, still held down by the rubble. He could see the calculation in their eyes. Knew what they were thinking, had to be thinking. They knew he’d seen them use their secret abilities, and knew that as Security Officer he’d be duty-bound to report them. But if they just walked away and left him, left him here to die in the blazing town, their secret would be safe, and no one would ever have to know. Stelmach understood. It was what he would have done. But even so, he wasn’t surprised when they bent over him and started pulling the bricks away again. They weren’t like him.
Eventually they got him out, and Silence helped support him while Frost briskly slapped some of the dust off his clothes. His head took a while to clear, but when it did he pushed himself away from Silence and made himself stand up straight.
“You saved me,” he said, his voice a harsh rasp that didn’t only come from the dust. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes we did,” said Silence. “We’re family. You’d have done the same for us.”
“You don’t understand,” said Stelmach, forcing the words out. “I’m responsible for our being here. I sabotaged the pinnace. The Empress had heard stories of your . . . powers. She wanted confirmation. So she ordered me to put you into danger and spy on you.”
“Never trust a Security Officer,” said Frost. Her hand fell to the gun on her hip. Stelmach made himself stand still.
“He didn’t have to tell us,” said Silence.
“Yes I did,” said Stelmach. “We’re family.”
He and Silence shared a smile. Frost nodded, which was as close as she got to a smile when she wasn’t killing something, and took her hand away from her gun.
“So,” she said. “What do we do now?”
“We concentrate on getting to the Standing alive,” said Silence. “Everything else can wait. We’ll work something out. We always do.”
“I hate all this improvising,” said Frost.
They moved on through what was left of the town, making better time now that they no longer had to hide from the war machines. Silence and Frost gathered their power around them again, and hid the three of them from the machines’ sensors. And so they were able to watch unmolested as the robots came marching down a street, driving a desparate army of refugees before them. Men, women, and children ran despairingly, lungs straining for breath, forcing themselves on despite the pain in their legs and backs and chests. The machines killed the slowest, or those who could no longer keep up, smashing their skulls with swift, efficient blows from their steel hands. Blood ran down the cobbled street and swirled thickly in the gutters. Finally the robots tired of this, or decided their priorities lay elsewhere, and they fell suddenly on the refugees, overtaking them in seconds, and tearing them limb from limb. They slaughtered them all in a matter of seconds, and then moved on, their metal feet stamping through a river of blood and gore. They passed right by Silence and Frost and Stelmach and didn’t see them.
Stelmach looked at Silence and Frost. “Couldn’t you have done something? I mean, I know they’re rebels, but . . .”
“No buts,” said Frost. “The price for rebellion is death.”
“I don’t know,” said Silence. “That wasn’t execution; that was butchery. I’ve seen war before. Seen men kill men for all kinds of reasons. But that was men, not machines. There were children there . . .”
Frost looked at Silence. “Don’t go soft on me, Captain. They brought this on themselves. They plotted and conspired to bring this about. They betrayed their oath and their honor and their duty, and finally themselves. They knew what they were getting into.”
“Do you think the children knew?” said Silence. “Do you think they knew why they were being driven through the streets like cattle and then slaughtered?”
“Their parents brought that on them,” said Frost. “They bear the blame. We have to be strong, Captain. You used to know that. You gave the order to scorch the planet Unseeli.”
“And I’m still haunted by what I did there,” said Silence. “I thought that there was no other way. And in the end it didn’t solve anything, remember? Maybe we should be looking harder for other ways.”
“That’s not our business,” said Frost. “We don’t make policy. We can’t see the big picture.”
“When did we ever try?” said Silence.
David Deathstalker and Kit SummerIsle, along with Alice and Jenny, made a dash for the Standing on their flyer. It wasn’t the safest of places to head for, with the Steward probably in charge there, but they were short on options. Besides, when David first came to Virimonde, he’d taken the precaution of salting the Standing’s Security forces with men specifically loyal to him. Just in case. The Steward had already betrayed Owen, after all. Right now, David was hoping his people would have taken control by the time he got there.
They flew high above the clouds, at the fastest speed the flyer’s straining engines could produce. Kit sat at the controls, leaving David to comfort Alice. She hadn’t said a dozen words since the flyer took off. She’d seen her family die and her home destroyed, and her face had set in harsh, broken lines. David and Jenny took turns talking to her, trying to reach her, but she didn’t seem to hear them. Something inside her had broken, and might never be put back together again. David gave her his gun to hold, and she seemed to find that comforting. In the end he left her with Jenny and went forward to stand beside Kit.
“How are we doing?”
“As well as can be expected,” the SummerIsle said calmly, not looking round. “Our security codes probably no longer protect us from attack, but at this height and speed most of the machines on the ground shouldn’t be able to track us. Our real problem is the flyer’s energy crystals. According to the onboard computers, we don’t have enough power left to get us all the way back to the Standing, and still maintain full shields.”
“Then drop the shields,” said David. “Our only hope is to reach the Standing.”
“My thoughts exactly. How are the girls doing?”
“As well as can be expected. I still can’t believe everything went wrong so fast. You’ve seen what’s going on below. All the towns are in flames, and there are war machines and ground troops everywhere. This isn’t a strike force, it’s an invasion.”
“Look on the bright side,” said Kit. “At least they’re not scorching the planet.”
“I don’t even want to think about that. I’ve never seen anything like this, Kit. They’re butchering these people. My people. And it’s all happening because of me.”
Deathstalker War Page 42
