Heirs at War (The Marmoros Trilogy Book 2)

by Peter Kenson

  In less than a minute, the fight was over and David led the charge down the hall to examine the entrance. The door leading to the bunker was a massive steel affair, worthy of the most prestigious bank vault.

  Jeren looked at it in horror. “How are we going to get through that?”

  “Let me worry about that,” David replied. “You take care of the security cameras. They must know we’re here by now but the less they can see what we’re up to, the better.”

  David flexed his jaw muscles to change comms channels and transferred the image of the door to the Salamander. Among the myriad pieces of useful information he had accumulated in the service of the empire, were the plans and specifications of every major supplier of vaults and safes. He accessed the details from the ship’s data store and used his laser pistol to trace the outline of a square on the wall to one side of the door.

  “Carl, lose that piece of wall for me.”

  Carl pointed the railgun at the wall and opened fire. Dust and bits of masonry flew off in all directions and rapidly opened a hole large enough to thrust a fist through. David produced another small piece of electronics from a belt pouch and inserted it through the gap. The wait seemed interminable before a soft beeping noise indicated that the device had finished. David retrieved the gadget and entered the series of digits it displayed, into the control panel on the door. As the last number was entered, there was a loud humming noise, followed by the sound of steel bolts being withdrawn.

  “Everybody take a stun grenade and stay low,” David ordered. “They are going to be waiting for us this time.”

  He spun the wheel and hauled on the door which barely seemed to move. Carl added his strength and the door swung open enough for the others to lob the grenades in. As David predicted, a volley of laser fire burst through the widening gap before the grenades went off. Jeren’s and Baltur’s armour absorbed the worst of it but one shot caught Mackay in the shoulder and he went down with a cry of pain and the smell of sizzling flesh.

  Their visors darkened automatically against the flash as they dashed through the doorway. Two of the occupants of the lobby were armoured troopers who kept their weapons firing continuously, even though they couldn’t possibly see any targets until their vision returned. The other four had the look of technicians rather than fighters and had obviously been completely disorientated by the flashbangs. It was close quarter fighting again and Jeren and Carl used their blades to cut through the armour of the two troopers. David and Baltur disarmed the technicians and herded them to one side as Mackay staggered in behind them, holding one hand to his shoulder and swearing fluently.

  At the rear of the lobby was a steel door with reinforced glass panels to either side. The room beyond was filled with banks of screens and communications equipment but none of the posts were manned. The only occupants of the room that they could see were three men and Rachel. One of the men had his arm round Rachel’s throat and a gun pressed against her temple.

  Jeren made a dash for the door but David blocked his way and placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Don’t do anything rash. When we get in there, spread out around the room but don’t make any sudden moves. They’re going to be scared, and scared men make mistakes. They act without thinking. So don’t do anything to make them more nervous than they already are.”

  Jeren glared at him for an instant and then nodded silently.

  “Carl, see if that big gun will take out one of the glass panels and, if it does, you stay outside and cover the room from here. Mackay, you look after the prisoners.”

  Carl hefted the railgun and fired a burst at the window, which put up only a token resistance. While the glass was still falling, David took one of the assault rifles and melted his way through the locking mechanism on the door. It slid open and he walked through to stand in front of the man holding Rachel, while Jeren and Baltur edged around the sides of the room.

  “That’s far enough,” Sitrona said. “Drop your weapons or I’ll drill a hole clear through your queen’s head.”

  “I think you misunderstand the situation,” David replied. “You are not in charge here. President Bargas, who I believe is standing next to you, is not in charge either. The continuing health of Queen Rachel is the only reason the three of you are still alive at this point. If you kill her, my friend in the window with the big gun, will send you after her before you can blink. So lower that gun and let’s talk.”

  “Who are you?” Bargas blustered. “What do you want?”

  “I’m here to warn you, Bargas. Vostov have betrayed you. Once that virus is released, it mutates into a form that kills everything. It won’t just kill the Ystrad, it will kill every Belsi on Ystradis.”

  “It’s too late, David,” Rachel cried. “He’s already ordered the attack. You must stop them.”

  “You keep quiet,” Sitrona threatened, tightening his arm around her neck.

  David threw a warning glance at Jeren before speaking. “I won’t warn you again, Commander Sitrona, isn’t it? Lower your weapon.”

  Bargas looked at Trast and then back at David. “You’re lying. I saw the demonstration myself. The Ystrad died but the Belsi survived.”

  “Quite right, Mr President,” Trast said. “He’s bluffing. They’re obviously desperate and they’ll say anything.”

  David sent a thread of thought towards Rachel. “Help me. The Vostovian is not wearing a protective collar. He must be made to tell the truth.”

  Rachel twisted her neck to look at Trast and a puzzled expression spread across his face. He gave a sort of apologetic cough and opened his mouth a couple of times, as though trying to speak.

  “Actually Mr President,” he began hesitantly, “it is possible that there might be a minor flaw in the virus. It’s not clinically proven but it does, under certain circumstances, appear to cause some collateral damage.”

  “But the demonstration. The Belsian subjects survived, didn’t they?”

  “Only temporarily, Mr President. Until the virus mutated.”

  Looks of horror appeared on the faces of both Bargas and Sitrona. “There are tens of thousands of troops on Ystradis. And thousands of farmers and colonists. How many of them will die?”

  “All of them,” David replied. “You must call off the attack.”

  Bargas stared at him. “Who are you?” he repeated.

  “My name is David Held. I work for the imperial government and I am here with the full authority of the Emperor. The Third Fleet has been ordered to secure this system and is on its way here as we speak. Now call off the attack.”

  Bargas continued to stare at him for a few seconds before his shoulders slumped. “Let her go,” he ordered Sitrona.

  “But Mr President…”

  “LET HER GO. And get me a comms link to the fleet.”

  Sitrona released his grip on Rachel’s throat and she ran across to throw herself into Jeren’s arms. The puzzled expression vanished from Trast’s face and he shook his head a couple of times, as if to clear it. Unnoticed by everyone in the room, he reached behind his back and produced a miniature railgun. Many times smaller than the one Carl was using, it was still capable of accelerating needle-like projectiles to tremendous velocities.

  “I can’t let you do that, Bargas. Vostov needs that Biridium.”

  He swung the little gun in an arc, spraying mini-projectiles at the comms station which disintegrated in a shower of sparks. He dived to the floor in a shoulder roll that brought him up behind another bank of equipment even as Carl opened up with the big railgun.

  “Hold your fire, Carl,” David ordered. “We need that equipment.”

  “Good decision, Held,” Trast called out. “I, however, have no need for interfering imperial agents or weak-minded allies.”

  He rolled out from behind the desk to loose off a couple of snapshots, before continuing his roll into the shelter of the next equipment station. As he fired, David threw himself to one side and the tiny pr
ojectile caught him a glancing blow, ricocheting off his armour to embed itself in the wall. Unfortunately, Bargas’ reactions were not as quick and he stared in surprise at the hole in his chest, while his brain struggled to comprehend the fact that his heart was no longer beating. Slowly he sank to his knees and pitched forward onto his face.

  “Get Rachel out of here,” David said on the team’s secure channel. “Baltur, cover them.”

  He stayed in a crouch as he edged further round the room, trying to get a clear shot at the Vostovian envoy. In the centre of the room, Sitrona was kneeling by the dead body of his president. With a snarl of fury, he aimed his pistol at the desk where Trast was sheltering and blasted a hole through the base of the unit. The reaction was immediate. There was a cry of pain and Trast rolled into view, releasing another spray of projectiles as he did so.

  “Look out,” Baltur yelled, throwing himself in front of Jeren and Rachel, who had their backs to the scene as they went through the door. On the far side of the room, blasts from David and Sitrona hit Trast simultaneously, jerking the body into the air before it collapsed in a smouldering heap.

  Jeren released his arm from Rachel’s shoulders and spun round just in time to catch Baltur as he fell. Gently he eased him down to the floor but when he took his hand away, it was already covered in blood. Rachel knelt beside him as they unfastened Baltur’s helmet. Baltur tried to smile at them but the smile turned into a cough and flecks of blood appeared at the side of his mouth.

  “Jeren,” he started to say before another coughing fit produced more blood.

  “Don’t try to talk, old friend. We’ll get you some help.”

  “No,” Baltur shook his head weakly. “You remember that time when we were stealing those horses. The sentry caught us and I thought I was going to die. You saved my life that day.”

  A tear formed in Jeren’s eye as he nodded dumbly.

  “I said that next time I would have to save your life. I think I’ve just repaid that debt.”

  “There was never any debt, you idiot. Nothing to repay.”

  Baltur coughed up some more blood and spittle and Rachel produced a handkerchief from somewhere to wipe it away. He smiled at Jeren. “My king.” He turned his head slightly to smile at Rachel. “And my queen.”

  His eyes glazed over as tears rolled down the cheeks of both Jeren and Rachel. Lost in their misery, they looked round in surprise as David put a hand under each of their arms and pulled them to their feet.

  “We have to go. Commander Sitrona has agreed to escort us back to our ship. The comms equipment here is useless and we still have to stop the attack on Ystradis. I’ve relayed a message to the Swordfish. If Sitrona can’t recall the attack, then she’s our last hope.”

  “We can’t go without Baltur,” Jeren said fiercely. “I will not leave him here.”

  David shook his head and was about to reply when Carl spoke up from behind them.

  “I’ll bring him, your Majesty. You look after your queen and I’ll take care of Baltur.”

  The big man put the railgun down and lifted Baltur into his arms as though he weighed nothing at all.

  “I’m ready,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 28 – Swordfish & Salamander

  “Sir, there’s a message from the Salamander,” Ewan reported. “It’s from Lord Held.”

  “Put it up on the screen,” Mikael ordered.

  “Sir, it’s voice only. There’s no open comms link back to Lord Held.”

  “Do it anyway.”

  The main screen went black and David’s voice came through the speakers. “Swordfish, this is a sitrep. Queen Rachel is safe and we are escorting her back to the Salamander. President Bargas is dead but we were too late to prevent him ordering the attack on Ystradis. That attack has already begun. Their intelligence chief, Commander Sitrona has been made aware of the full effects of the virus and is attempting to abort the attack to protect his own people on the planet. However, the attack was initiated under Bargas’ personal authority and it may prove impossible to abort. You are, therefore, authorised to take whatever action is necessary to protect the planet and its inhabitants. Held out.”

  “Okay people, time to go to work. What’s the status of the Destructor, Number One?”

  “No change, sir. She’s still in orbit around Belsia; no increase in power levels or any sign of getting underway.”

  “But if the attack’s already started, then how…? Ye gods, it has to be that bloody cruiser. And we let her go. You said her tubes could launch either missiles or torpedoes. Is that right?”

  “Yes sir. The frigates are too old but that cruiser’s certainly got the capability.”

  “Helm, get us underway. Full impulse power. Plot an intercept course with that cruiser. What’s her latest position?”

  Mikael was fairly certain he already knew the answer to that but, when the confirmation came, he felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  “Cruiser and escorts still on course for Ystradis,” Frank reported. “They’ll be making orbit in about thirty minutes.”

  “Helm, can we intercept before they make orbit?”

  “No sir. Not a chance,” Fleurie replied. “They’ve got too much of a head start.”

  “Then plot a jump that’ll bring us out between that damn cruiser and the planet.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “They’ll detect the jump flash,” Frank objected. “We’ll lose the advantage of surprise.”

  “There’s no bloody point in surprising them after they’ve launched those missiles, Number One. We’ve got to get ahead of them or at least alongside them. We will still have the stealth shielding. They may detect our point of emergence but they won’t be able to track us from there.”

  “No but they will be on high alert. Unless they think we’re the Destructor, of course.”

  Mikael looked at his exec. “That’s it. That’s brilliant.”

  He thumbed a button on his communicator. “Engineering.”

  “Engineering, aye.”

  “Chief, can you rig our IFF signal to mimic the Destructor?”

  “Not using the standard imperial kit, sir. The dockyard replaced all the Vostovian equipment on our last stopover but I think I still have it in one of the storage bins.”

  “Can you set it up alongside the standard unit, so that we can transmit either signal?”

  “Aye sir. I can do that. Give me fifteen minutes.”

  “You’ve got ten, Chief. Make it fast.”

  Mikael broke the connection and looked towards Frank. “They know the Destructor has both jump and stealth capabilities. When they detect the jump flash, we drop the shielding for a few seconds to let them pick up the Destructor’s IFF signal. Then we go stealthy again. The next time we uncloak, I want to be so close to that cruiser, we’ll be able to count the rivets.

  “Set up an attack plan, Number One. We’ll come at her from the rear quarter to maximise the time alongside, but I want to hit her with everything we’ve got on that first pass, including the point defence systems. If we have to go in a second time, we’ll take a lot more punishment ourselves. Target her weapons systems, especially the launch tubes. If we can’t destroy her, we can at least try to stop her launching those missiles.”

  “What about the Destructor? She’s still a threat and she’s a Vostovian warship in Imperial space.”

  “I know. I would love to blow that murderous bastard clear out of space for what he did at Sorinto. Drop a probe to keep an eye on the situation here while we get after that cruiser. Helm, have you got that jump plotted?”

  “Plotted and locked in, sir. Ready to jump on your command.”

  “Standby. We jump as soon as engineering confirms the IFF is installed.”

  ***

  Sitrona was as good as his word. He led them back through the palace and, if he had any thoughts on the number of dead bodies they passed, he wisely kept them to h
imself. He left them at the door to the courtyard where they had landed the shuttle.

  “You’re on your own from here. I have to get to Military HQ and convince them that the virus is lethal to our own people as well, but that won’t be easy with both Bargas and Trast dead.”

  “The Vostovian agent, Trast, mentioned something about a professor,” David said.

  “Professor Berkovis, yes. He’s on-board the cruiser, supervising the missile launch.”

  “On-board the cruiser? Your cruiser?”

  “Yes, Trast insisted that we launch the attack ourselves, rather than use the Destructor.”

  “Then contact your people on the ship. The professor must know the truth about the virus. Put him under pressure and he might crack.”

  “I’ll see to it,” Sirona promised. “What about you?”

  “We have to warn the Ystrad to take cover in case the attack goes ahead. They need to be inside environmentally sealed structures or maybe underground in the tunnel complexes. You’d better warn your people to do the same.”

  “I doubt they’d be welcome in the same tunnels as the Resistance,” Sitrona said ruefully. “But they may be able to use the mine, if they can seal the entrance. I have to go. Good luck to us both.”

  Sitrona turned on his heel and disappeared back into the palace as David led his little group across the courtyard and unsealed the shuttle. He kept the interference field in place around them while he fired up all of the ship’s systems that had not been damaged by the EMP blast. The ship’s external sensors had been burnt out by the pulse but the tactical display in his helmet was showing a lot of aerial activity over the palace compound. He ducked back into the cargo bay where Rachel had found the first aid kit and was busy applying a dressing to Mackay’s shoulder.