“I am,” the man replied as he rose from the couch. “In the bathroom, you’ll see two handles used for hanging hand towels. The lower one is a fake. Push up on the ring, then pull out. A false panel will open. You have one minute to get in before it closes and seals itself. It’s a single use emergency escape hatch.”
“Why?” Christine asked.
“Malachi predicted this,” Joel stated. “We didn’t think they’d get here so fast when we called for you. They were still in their shuttle waiting for the storm to slacken, so we figured it was safe. I screwed up on that one.”
“Joel…”
Pulled back to the datapad by Jane’s concerned voice, Christine watched in horror as one of the men with restraints was shoved back by Malachi. It was obvious to all that the commandant was furious at being manhandled and was letting them know it with the vocal fury of an experienced training sergeant. Malachi gave the rear admiral a classic “knife hand” gesture while apparently dressing down the man in an eloquent, yet loud, manner.
Finally, one of the rear guards had had enough of Malachi’s protests. The officer reached behind his back, pulled out a small firearm, and shot the former sangre princeps in the head.
“No!” Lady Ravenwood screamed. Her mouth was wide open in horror as she watched her husband, the father of her children, fall to the floor. Wil, caught off guard, stumbled back and fell on his rear. The officer who’d fired strode up to Malachi’s twitching form and fired three more times. Malachi stopped moving. Lady Ravenwood was beside herself, sobbing hysterically as she fell to the floor. She clutched herself and made a strange sound, like a wounded animal caught in a trap. It was the most heart-wrenching sound Christine had ever heard.
“Wil, get out of there,” Christine whispered, but it was too late. The officer shifted the barrel of his firearm and fired four more times, striking Wil in the chest. Her best friend looked confused as he turned over and tried to crawl up the stairs. Christine felt tears forming in her eyes as Lady Ravenwood rocked on the floor, bawling. “Wil…”
The shooter calmly ejected the magazine and slid in a new one as he stalked the dying applications technician. Wil, leaving a bloody trail behind him, had managed to crawl midway up the stairs before the officer caught up to him. Wil’s face was a mixture of confusion and pain, while the officer who’d shot him wore nothing but an emotionless mask. The officer placed the barrel of his firearm against the back of Wil’s head and said something. The young technician looked up at the camera. His eyes seemed to stare into Christine’s. He said something, and there was one final gunshot. Wil’s head slammed down onto the stairs, a bloody, sodden mess. Rivulets of red began to run down the stairs, a sick and cruel mockery of water flowing down a waterfall.
“Fuck me,” Christine hissed, sick to her stomach. She dropped the datapad on the floor. Angrily, she wiped away her tears and tried to pull her service weapon from her grab bag, but the angle was all wrong. Joel stopped her.
“He knew what was going to happen the minute he walked out of this office,” Joel explained. “That’s why he engaged the magnetic locks on the door. Outside of a massive explosion, those doors aren’t going to open again. He’s doing this to get you, your child, and his wife safely out of here. That hidden panel leads to a slide that goes down to a subbasement. There’s a small personal vehicle waiting for you. Drive along the path until you exit the tunnel. You’ll come out less than ten minutes from Lares.”
Joel knelt down and wrapped his arms around the sobbing Lady Ravenwood. Uncertain what to do, she clung to him, and he helped her to her feet. Her formerly immaculate makeup was ruined as long black streaks of mascara ran down her cheeks. Christine, her own eyes damp, grabbed Jane’s hand. The noblewoman clutched hers in return, her grip vice-like.
“Lady, we need to go,” Christine said in a halting voice. Jane continued to cry, unresponsive. Christine tried a second time, with similar results. She looked at Joel, uncertain what to do next. Unlike the noblewoman, Christine had dealt with death before. Not on such a personal level, but DIB and Jericho training had taught her how to shove aside her personal issues to focus on the mission. There would be time for tears later.
“Take her,” Joel ordered her in a stern voice. She looked at him, uncertain.
“What about you?” Christine asked. Joel sighed. If she hadn’t known any better, she’d have suspected Joel was more upset than Lady Ravenwood was, though he hid it far better than the grieving widow.
“There are more ways out of this office than I care to explain,” Joel told her. “Malachi designed this place with five secret exits and entrances in case something like this ever happened. He was a paranoid nut. God, I’m going to miss him.”
“Promise me you won’t make a bullshit, heroic last stand,” she told him. Joel look at her askance for a moment before nodding.
“Nope, I want to live,” Joel told her. “I’m getting the hell out of here—eventually. I have some business to take care of first, though.”
“Like what?” Christine demanded. He shook his head.
“Quit stalling and get your butt moving,” he told her a final time. Carefully, but with determination, he guided both women to the bathroom. Christine spotted the hand towel ring and followed the instructions. Push up, then pull out. Inside the wall a subtle snick! could be heard. A small panel, more than wide enough to allow her through, opened outward. Christine peered inside and saw a metal slide that seemed to go on forever. She looked back at Joel, wary.
“How long is it?” she asked.
“Long enough,” he replied. “Forty-five seconds until this door seals itself shut. Let me get Lady Ravenwood in first, then you follow.”
Joel guided the noblewoman to the door and assisted her in sitting down. Numbly and without resistance, Jane allowed him to give her a gentle shove. After a few moments, she disappeared out of sight. Christine inhaled. That was a long slide if she could lose sight of Jane before she reached the bottom. Glancing back at Joel, he gave her a reassuring nod.
“It’s safe, I promise,” he told her. “Just toss the bag down first. You and your baby follow. It’s not steep enough for you to hurt yourself at the bottom, but be careful anyway. Lady Ravenwood might not have gotten off at the end.”
Nodding, Christine tossed the bag down the slide. It didn’t want to go down, but gravity finally took hold. She settled down and made sure Maxwell was safe. Surprisingly, the baby had continued to sleep through everything, including Lady Ravenwood’s shocked cry.
“Ten seconds,” Joel warned. Christine nodded and looked up at him for possibly the last time.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Stay safe,” he told her and pushed her down the slide. As Joel stepped back, the hydraulic escape hatch closed. A heavy bar slid into place, and Christine thought she heard the faint sound of mechanical pieces falling apart. Unable to see the top due to the depth of the slide, she focused on what lay before her.
It was obvious the further she went that, once upon a time, this had been an old laundry chute. Heavily modified to be used as an emergency escape hatch, it was a tight fit, but there was just enough room to keep Christine from feeling claustrophobic. The walls were smooth and plain, painted white to help reflect the dim lighting in the shaft and create the illusion that there was more light. However, Christine confirmed with a look behind her, the dim lights flickered off as she passed. This she understood perfectly. There was no point in having a secret tunnel if mysterious lights in the wall gave it away.
She saw the end of the slide at last. Fortunately, Lady Ravenwood appeared to have moved out of the way, though she was sitting next to the slide, staring into space. The bag had slid to a stop next to the noblewoman, and beyond, Christine could see a small personal vehicle. Once more, she was impressed with Malachi’s preparations.
A sudden and overwhelming wave of misery washed over her as Wil came to mind. Wil, loyal and faithful friend, had died because someone wanted power. Whoever was pul
ling the strings behind Prince Ezekiel was going to die by her hand. She wasn’t yet sure how it would happen, but she made a silent vow anyway. Wil’s death was more than another statistic in this horrible civil war.
Coming to a stop, Christine swung her legs over the edge of the slide and managed to get up without too much trouble. Her sari clung to her butt from the static electricity that had built up on her trip down. She fought with it for a moment before giving up in exasperation. Instead of continuing that battle, she started a new one.
“Jane, we need to go,” Christine said in as gentle a voice as she could after securing the go bag in the back seat of the vehicle. Unable to forcefully move the woman, Christine decided to try a different approach. “Lady Ravenwood! There is a child in danger, and I need you to move, now!”
“My children…” Jane murmured as she looked up at Christine. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she looked exhausted; she had aged far beyond her years in a short time. It was shocking for Christine to see such a strong woman hurting so. “What do I tell my children?”
“Are they here?” Christine asked, suddenly worried. If she had to get the entire family off-world, she could, but it would raise far more questions than she was comfortable with.
“No,” Lady Ravenwood answered as she shook her head. “They’re with my mother. Oh…oh no. What will I tell them?”
“You won’t be able to tell them anything if we don’t get out of here alive,” Christine said urgently. She held out her free hand for Jane. “Now you can get up and we can get off this damned planet, or you can stay here and…I don’t know. Eventually someone will find this place.”
“Right.” Lady Ravenwood hiccupped and tried to stand up on her own. After a moment she sighed and accepted Christine’s hand. “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry about your husband, but we need to move,” Christine told her as she helped the noblewoman to her feet. Lady Ravenwood brushed off her pants and looked around. Her eyes widened.
“I didn’t even look around when I got here,” she murmured as she looked around, taking in the sights. “I forgot that he showed this to me once, long ago.”
“Then you know where it comes out, near Lares?” Christine asked.
“I—I believe so, yes,” Lady Ravenwood said haltingly. “It might be odd to see an outdated vehicle suddenly coming out of a cave near the city, though.”
“How come kids don’t explore this tunnel?” Christine wondered as she helped Lady Ravenwood into the passenger seat. She then unhooked Maxwell’s carrier wrap and passed him to the noblewoman, who gratefully accepted the baby. Gently touching his cheek, Jane smiled sadly.
“It’s far enough away from town that nobody wants to walk,” Lady Ravenwood explained quietly as she continued to look at Maxwell’s face. Christine, familiar with the different coping mechanisms of the psyche, wasn’t concerned yet. As long as Lady Ravenwood had an anchor to reality, Christine would allow her to watch over Maxwell. Lady Ravenwood continued, “Oh, and there’s a false rock wall just inside the entrance. We might run over some snakes, but other than that, we should be fine.”
“Well, that’s good news, I guess,” Christine muttered darkly as she moved around the front of the vehicle to the driver’s side. She slipped inside, and the door shut behind her. The water-cooled engine took a moment before turning over and starting, a quiet hum in the otherwise silent cavern. She looked around at the dashboard for a moment, confused. “This thing has studded tires?”
“All our vehicles do,” Lady Ravenwood told her as she continued to rock Maxwell. “We used to like going into the mountains to camp before the kids decided camping outdoors was gross. My daughter told me last month that the only stars she’ll sleep under are those of a 5-star hotel. I…had a hard time not laughing.”
“Sounds like a fun kid,” Christine commented as the vehicle accelerated down the tunnel.
“Emelie is a sweet child, if a bit headstrong,” Lady Ravenwood confirmed. “Nothing like her brother, Mal. He’s almost as devious and conniving as my husband is…was…”
“We need to think about our next move,” Christine said hurriedly, in an attempt to change the subject. “Getting off-world is our top priority right now, especially if they’re looking for you.”
“Me?” Lady Ravenwood laughed weakly. “I’m nobody, the third daughter of the lowest-ranking senator from Avalon. I’m worthless.”
“You’re also the mother of two children who are in the line of succession for the Blood Throne,” Christine reminded her. “They’ll come for them, if they haven’t already.”
“They wouldn’t dare try to take the children,” Lady Ravenwood growled in a low, dangerous tone. Christine stole a quick glance at her and saw determination on her face.
“I hope you’re right,” Christine whispered as they continued down the long tunnel in silence, Lady Ravenwood clutching Maxwell tightly to her chest, both women deep in thought about what was to come.
* * * * *
Chapter Nine
Gabriel
Darkness surrounded him. Since Gabriel was far more comfortable in the dark than the light, he was perfectly okay with it. The weight pressing down on his suit, though, was something he could do without.
Somehow, he’d managed to survive both the fall through the street and the Goliath tank that had landed partially on top of him. If that hadn’t amazed him enough, part of Mauser Tower had collapsed as well, with a good chunk of the building material helping bury him. Pavement, concrete, steel, and building materials he couldn’t identify without the Darksuit’s assistance surrounded him. He could move his arm a little, and his head was free. The rest of his body was buried beneath the rubble.
“Not this shit again,” Gabriel muttered. He was getting sick and tired of being trapped beneath piles of debris. Swearing that one day he’d be the king of the hill, he slowly began to extricate himself from the bottom of the wreckage. It was slow going, since a lot of the material threatened to topple over and bury him completely.
Refusing to give up, slowly but surely Gabriel began to wiggle his way out of the mess. More than once he found a dead marine, broken and bloody, beneath the debris. Studiously ignoring the dead, he focused instead on simply getting out. This became difficult as he found more and more civilians, dead beneath large chunks of concrete.
While Gabriel had known his suicide dive off the skyscraper would do some damage to the streets, he hadn’t expected the building to fall in, as well. The tanks should have stopped firing after he destroyed the area where they’d parked. He could only think of two possibilities. One option was he’d been too late, enough damage had already been done, and the building was coming down no matter what he tried. Or two, more fire had hit the weakened corner from an unknown source after he’d collapsed the intersection. Since he was pretty certain Esau and the Wraiths had secured the locale the moment he’d removed the Goliaths from the equation, the former seemed far more likely.
It took him another two hours to finally get clear of the rubble. In that time, he’d found four of the Goliath tanks. All were damaged and inoperable, their crews dead from the impact. Goliaths, unlike their smaller and more maneuverable Leopard cousins, weren’t designed to do anything more than roll forward and crush their enemies, with big guns and bigger treads. Gabriel was thankful they hadn’t been fighting Leopards in the confines of the city. The smaller, speedier tanks might have lacked the massive railgun that was murder on Wraith suits, but their junonium-depleted Jäger rounds could still do some serious damage.
The Leopard is for open warfare, not for an occupation, Gabriel recalled from his lessons during his Darkling indoctrination. A Goliath intimidates and causes fear in the populace. It’s perfect for quelling a rebellion. The problem arose when ignorant generals believed it was an all-purpose tank. It wasn’t created to be one and failed horribly at it.
In order to be certain the tanks and their crews remained dead, Gabriel had checked inside. While he was out of the phosphor
ous “banger” grenades, he was extremely inventive. Dead marines carried grenades, typically four at a time, strung along a belt. It was simple work for Gabriel to rip open the commander’s hatch of a Goliath, pull four pins, and drop a belt of them into the tank. He would then slam the hatch shut and let the grenades do the work for him. Some Wraiths would have called it lazy, but Gabriel preferred the term “efficient.”
As he slid down the rubble and managed not to fall flat on his face, Gabriel took stock of the situation. It was dark, but that could be due to anything, from it being nighttime to the building that had landed on top of him. It was a hostile environment either way, strange shadows forming as his suit’s HUD switched over to night vision. With no starlight to enhance, the suit struggled with some of the deeper shapes that loomed in the shadows. More than once Gabriel thought he’d found another Goliath, only to discover a long piece of reinforced rebar sticking out of a large pile of debris.
Gabriel knelt down and slowed his breathing. He had no idea why his surroundings seemed so bizarre. While he was pretty sure he wasn’t too badly injured, he couldn’t be entirely certain until he ran a health diagnostic. The problem with running one while in a potentially hostile location, however, was most of the sensors on the suit shifted inward to see if there was anything wrong with its wearer. This left a Wraith—or in his case, a Darkling—vulnerable to attack. The scan would typically take less than a minute, but any combat veteran knew a minute could be a very long time.
A small medical symbol appeared on his HUD and Gabriel blinked, surprised. While he knew he’d taken a nasty blow to the head when he landed, and then again when everything fell in on him, he hadn’t expected the damage to be in his eyes. The suit’s scan revealed that, due to some swelling, he was suffering from minor ocular nerve damage, which was affecting how the information he saw was transmitted to his brain. That explained why the shadows and shapes in the dark cavern looked so odd to him.
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