When she didn’t react, the man seized the sobbing woman, struggled to lift her and fled as fast as he could. She turned her back on the pair and on a measure of her past, heading upward. She’d come for Pard. She would deal with any who stood in her way, but today there would be no random slaughter.
*****
Pard frantically loaded his valuable documents, tapes and disks into a carryall bag. His face remained calm though his mind was in turmoil. Somehow he had miscalculated, failing to foresee this attack. How was it possible that the compound’s formidable defenses could be overwhelmed with such speed? Clearly, this was beyond the capabilities of the Neos or any other lesser Houses. It could only be the Army. Yet of all his opponents, he feared the Army least. He’d thoroughly infiltrated Army HQ, yet his spies gave no warning of Special Forces on the move. How had Dominici managed to get so powerful a force free of his spies?
No, Army did not make sense. So open a move was uncharacteristic of the Army, which paid at least nominal homage to the civilian law of the planet. Something else was going on.
It struck him suddenly. All the pieces fell into a pattern. It could only be the Confederacy. Interfering with a member planet’s politics would be an unprecedented move by the usually passive multi-system government, but the pieces fit too well. Rainhell was not the author of the plot against him, merely an agent.
He bolted to the window, carefully looking down the street. He saw robots engaging his troops. Metallic, crab-like, they skittered forward. One fell under a missile fired by a Denshi assault helo, one of the few to get airborne before the hanger was overrun. A small, slender figure, blue-sashed, hair streaming banner-like behind it, sprinted out of cover on a nearby rooftop. For a brief second he thought it a woman. It lunged into the air as the helo swung around to engage it. Their shot missed the speeding machine. It landed on the helo’s side, stove in the door and fired into the cockpit, then leapt off the falling chopper, landing among some Denshi troops. It flashed among the troops, not bothering to fire, killing them by hand in seconds. Then it raced down the street, firing a laser at other retreating Denshi. A Humanform Combat Robot. It had to be the Confederacy; no one else had such machines. Even the Confederacy possessed only a few hundred.
I can use this to my advantage, Pard thought, if I can escape. A Confederate plot to intervene in Olympian affairs will put me back on top, insulating House Denshi from complicity in Fenaday’s murder. I’ll tar the Confederacy with Rainhell’s acts and the present attack. It might even give me the opening to bring Operation Overman out into the open. First though, I must survive.
Salmot opened the door, his sidearm out and breathing hard. “Excellency, the attack on us appears to be overwhelming. They have armored fighting robots, and our defenses cannot stop them.”
“Did you signal Raque to eliminate the Others?”
“Yes, my Lord,” he nodded, “as you directed, but that end of the complex is under attack. Communications through the complex are under physical and cybernetic assault. The net failed before he could report back.”
“There is no help for that. We must flee, old friend, while we can. Unless our attackers are fools, they have allies onworld blocking reinforcements to us.”
“Army,” Salmot spat.
“Among others,” he agreed. “Those are Confederate cyber-forces out there. We would need a Naval Landing Battalion to even hold them.”
The two men hurried into the corridor, where four of Pard’s personal guard covered the area.
Salmot checked his portable computer. “Your aircar on the roof has been destroyed, and the hanger area for the helos has fallen. As near as I can tell the underground ways are still held.”
“Then there’s no way out but down,” Pard said. Not trusting the elevators, they headed for the stairs. Three guards took point a few meters ahead. One brought up the rear.
“Grigor,” Pard ordered, “commit the reserves to an attack out of the Broad Street surface entrance. That should bring them up behind the initial attackers and give us time to escape down to the bridge. If any of the air crews are still in the air, have them attack.”
The lead guard reached the stairwell door and pulled it, while the others covered the swinging door with their weapons. A deafening bang and a flash lit up the corridor. Two guards went down in pieces as the corridor lights shorted. Flechettes from the mine struck Pard, slamming into his unprotected face and hands. The incredibly tough fibers of his suit protected his body, but the impacts hurt savagely. Pard lunged backward with astonishing speed, carrying Salmot with him. The third guard slammed into the wall, body spasming under the impacts of weapon fire.
A face loomed up in the dust and smoke of the stairwell, over the bucking barrel of a heavy tri-auto.
“Rainhell,” Salmot screamed. They fired at the ghostly white face. It disappeared. Another mini grenade flashed, knocking Pard and Salmot to the floor. Fortunately for Pard, their last guard stopped most of the blast. Protected by the bulk of Pard’s powerful body, Salmot came up clutching a bleeding arm. Salmot snatched his weapon up and emptied it into the corridor at Rainhell’s last position. Fire came back out of the smoke, pulsed energy and hot lead.
“She’s out of minifrags,” Salmot shouted.
“Obviously,” Pard gritted.
They fled for the exterior of the building. There was no other way to the underground from where they were. They would have to chance the streets.
“Use the com,” Pard said, “call for help.”
“Can’t,” the smaller man said. “It’s smashed.”
Power failed and the corridor plunged into darkness for two long seconds before the emergency lights came on. Fifty meters behind them, Rainhell raced in the low, harsh emergency light. Both men fired. Rainhell hit the floor, sliding into a shadow, firing back. Their handguns were no match for the big weapon. They fled, firing over their shoulders, ducking in and out of doorways, running for the turn of the corridor. Pard made it first. Rainhell’s tri-auto stuttered on its machinegun feature. With a yelp, Salmot slid to ground, his eyes wild.
“Grigor!” Pard shouted. He leaned back into the corridor, spotting Rainhell at the other end, running flat out. She saw him and dove toward an office door. Pard’s shots slapped the wall and her right hip as she disappeared into the room. Pard reached for Salmot to drag him into the side corridor. The tri-auto stuttered again as Rainhell fired through the thin interior walls between them. Salmot’s body jerked and his eyes emptied of life. Cursing, Pard snap fired through the holes Rainhell’s big weapon blew in the wall. Rainhell jerked under the impact, but did not go down. Ballistic-proof clothing, he realized. Proof against the big bore handgun’s hollow-point anyway. Damn, he thought, hollow-point when I needed an AP. Rainhell’s weapon came up, and he dodged back just as she blasted the wall he’d been using for cover.
Pard turned and ran with incredible speed for someone so large. His vitality remained undimmed by injuries that would have demanded immediate attention in a standard human. He hoped to find a heavier weapon, a tri-auto or laser, but right now what he needed most was distance from his former wife.
*****
Vaughn looked up as Tanaka ran into his office in the downtown HQ of Denshi. The pair had flown there hours ago to check in at the command center before heading for the dock where Sidhe lay. A nervous Admiral Rissi demanded a consultation about the starship. Vaughn offered to meet Rissi’s aide, wanting to work on the naval liaison in person. The aide should have arrived an hour ago.
That the usually imperturbable Tanaka felt the need to run heralded disaster.
“Pard’s under attack,” she announced.
For a second his mind refused to process it. The complex under assault? “What strength?” he snapped.
“We don’t know. Communications are being jammed, and the landlines are out. Last report indicates the complex’s defenses were being overwhelmed by enemy armor.”
“Not a nuisance raid,” he growled. “But how
? Our people have every Army base under observation. They’ve been unusually active, but we have no report of any forces moving out.”
“We must have missed some special forces,” she said.
“It would take a battalion at the least,” he countered.
“Oldark called in,” Tanaka continued. “Someone blew up the MagLev rails. He’s trying to move forces back toward the complex. They’ve been stopped by Army troops with heavy tanks setting roadblocks in front of his force. It will take our people hours to break through them, if they can. Alexa’s people are at the airport, but they report Army pursuit ships over the base. There are no Navy fighters in sight.”
An aide ran in and handed Tanaka a paper.
“Our aircraft,” she read, “are either grounded by red tape or surrounded by Army troops. Our communications are under attack everywhere.”
Vaughn strode out into the command center, similar to the Combat Information Center of a major warship. The main scanner map showed the distribution of Denshi forces worldwide. A glance told him many of the channels had failed.
“We underestimated the Army,” he said, as if to himself. “Dominici’s been planning this for a while. She must have moved her most loyal forces off the bases a fraction at a time. The less reliable ones are in the bases, and she is pulling them out now. Well, our people will raise some hell with them there.
“Contact Navy HQ for me,” he said, with apparent calm, “I need to speak to Pourlos as well.”
“He’s on Channel D, sir,” replied the tech. “Putting him through.”
“Pourlos here.”
“What’s the situation?”
“We still have the Sidhe surrounded by our people and Navy troops. I don’t know how long we can contain them. She began broadcasting in the clear again about fifteen minutes ago, claiming that Denshi or the Navy planted the bomb. They are demanding Army and Confed troops to protect them from the Navy and us. We intercepted a communication between Ambassador Davis and General Dominici. She’s sending heavy armor, along with a contingent of embassy marines, to the ship.
“We are taking some small arms fire from the ship. I’ve pulled back. We can fight our way into her, but we will have the Army closing in from behind if we do.”
“Do we oppose them?” Pourlos demanded. “We can hold them for a couple of hours at least. We can blow up the vessel if need be.”
“Sir,” Tanaka interrupted, “Geneticist Hagen is on the Black Channel. They have Army troops appearing around their offices.”
“Hold on, Pourlos,” Vaughn said. He pulled up the Black Channel on the main viewer. Hagen appeared, his face sweaty and frightened. “Vaughn, this is Hagen. I cannot reach Pard, and there is firing down at the Starship. It looks like the Army is making its move. I cannot reach Navy HQ. They tell me Admiral Rissi is unavailable.”
“Damn,” Vaughn said. Their biggest ally in the Navy, either incapacitated or waiting to see what developed.
“I’ve got Army troops approaching. Looks like military police and light armor. All I have here are uniformed security, proctors and some police.”
“Dominici wouldn’t dare,” said a stunned Vaughn. The geneticist’s labs were the closest place to a holy site on Olympia, built by Allessandro himself.
“We dare not risk their entry,” Hagen said. “If they seize our files, it will be prison or worse for all of us. If I have to destroy them, we lose much of our political power. Vaughn, I need Denshi or Navy troops fast.”
Vaughn bit his lip in thought. Everything certain had turned insecure, with the Navy unreliable in the face of a suddenly aggressive Army. Dominici led them to believe she was ineffective, dissipate, and it worked. Pard might be dead or wounded. It all fell to Vaughn in the command center. He could not get troops to Pard for several hours at best. The battle there would be over one way or the other by then.
It dawned on him that with Antebei dead and Pard’s fate unknown, he might need to consider a universe without the leader of the Engineered. None of the others would destabilize the counsel by supporting another member for Pard’s position. They hated and distrusted each other too much for that. Their only common interest lay in him. He needed to consider the future. What could be saved? What would Pard do?
“Minister Hagen,” he said firmly, “do not destroy the files. Denshi and Navy troops with armor will be arriving shortly.”
“Excellent, excellent,” Hagen said, visibly relieved. “This will not be forgotten, Vaughn.” He switched off.
“Pourlos,” he called. The man’s face popped onto the screen. “You heard?”
“Yes, sir,” Pourlos responded without hesitation. It seemed he felt the new wind blowing as well.
“Pull your people off the Sidhe. Leave a small rear guard to hold there. Arrange it so they do not know you have left. Take all your troops and equipment to Hagen’s offices. If the Army tries to enter, fight.” Pourlos nodded and disappeared.
Tanaka looked at him, incredulous. “Armor? Pourlos has a few small-arms proof police cars and four twenty-ton armored personnel carriers. All the real armor is with Oldark.”
“It will have to do,” Vaughn shrugged.
Vaughn turned to the communication staff, all of whom stared back at him with expressions varying from concern to outright fear. “Get word any way you can to our Army infiltrators,” he snapped. “They are to sabotage anything they can reach and slow the Army down.
“Call Oldark, Alexa and the others,” he continued. “Have them break contact with the Army and move whatever forces they can to Pard’s complex as soon as possible. Evade and infiltrate. Do not fight if possible.
“Keep trying to reach the complex and to raise the Navy Command. We need Navy fighters and Navy troops and we need them fast.”
A loud boom from the ground floor made the building shudder. Vaughn drew his pistol, “I will be downstairs. Tanaka, you are with me.”
Chapter Seventeen
Fenaday moved warily onto the skybridge. An exposed position, but he could see no other way across. Schiller brought up the rear, his carbine hunting for targets. Risky padded along between them, his weapon-resistant dog blanket scorched by a near miss. The K-9 showed no ill effect from the hit.
Several bridges in this section of the complex joined buildings at different heights. No trace of dawn could be seen in the east, and the warmly lit skyways contrasted with the deep blue-black of the sky. Even the crescent moon was hidden now, gone behind gathering storm clouds. He saw flashes, the flickering of flames as Mmok’s forces battled the Denshi. The skyway insulation blocked the sound of battle.
Desert grit sifted off his boots as he stalked forward. Blood from small cuts he didn’t remember getting slowly slid down his chin. It feels unreal, he thought. We’re figures of slaughter invading the quiet sanity of an office building.
Risky barked suddenly. Fenaday half-turned to see the dog leaping and pushing against the glass to their right. On the skybridge above, fifty meters away, a huge man ran by. He moved so fast, he was gone almost before they saw him. Fenaday snapped his carbine up. “Pard,” he snarled.
Another sight stopped him before he could get off a shot. A woman flashed into view, running hard. Tall, lithe, with an ivory-white face, her black hair trailed behind her.
“Shasti,” Fenaday yelled. He ran, waving his arms. Risky barked furiously, almost somersaulting in his excitement. Fenaday yelled Shasti’s name, banging his rifle on the glass, but she disappeared, intent on her quarry.
“Look out,” Schiller screamed.
Fenaday snapped back to the here and now, throwing himself backwards in a reverse roll. Glass exploded as the hall filled with weapon fire. Five Denshi blasted away from the far end of the skyway. They appeared suddenly, evidently not expecting to find anyone, or perhaps attracted by the barking, thinking it might be one of their own K-9s.
Schiller’s carbine triggered on full auto as a particle weapon hit him. His body went over backward, but the burst of full auto
fire struck several Denshi. One fell. Armor saved the other two, but the impacts knocked them into their fellows, fouling their aim. Fenaday rolled out flat in the prone position as Risky raced past him. The charging dog took a snap burst and fell, yelping.
Fenaday emptied his carbine into the packed guards at the end of the narrow skybridge. Two more fell, one clearly dead. The others dodged, firing back wildly and trying to drag the wounded into cover. Fenaday dropped the empty carbine, snatching for his heavy laser pistol as shots cracked around him. He drew it and fired. A wounded guard went down, his faceplate burned through. Another beat at flaming clothes.
Fenaday’s laser touched off the sprinkler at the far end. Water flooded down. Laser light flashed the sprinkler water into steam, giving him some cover. The guards flinched from the laser’s searching beam. Return fire came at him wild and high. A bullet creased his arm. Another glanced off his back armor. He played the laser like a fire hose, flashing it around at any face that showed. Meant for bursts, the Martini laser quickly grew hot in his hand, its charge depleting. Fenaday snatched up Schiller’s weapon with his free hand, emptying both magazine and capacitor at the far end.
Inspiration struck. A frag grenade would kill him and Risky, but a smoke grenade... He pulled one and tossed. The guards ducked the thrown grenade, giving him precious seconds for the hissing device to emit dense black vapor.
“Come on, boys,” he yelled in the smoke and vapor filled skyway, hoping to fool the guards into thinking reinforcements had arrived. “YAAHHHH,” he screamed, crawling fast for the far end. Let ‘em think there’s a bunch of us running upright, he prayed. Risky barked encouragement, struggling forward on three good legs. Shots came out of the water and smoke. Again, too high. Then the guards broke, retreating from the end of the skyway into the left side corridor. They continued firing through the sprinkler water. It slicked the floor as they retreated.
Fearful Symmetry (The Robert Fenaday and Shasti Rainhell Chronicle Book 2) Page 23
