“Exactly,” said Isra. “It is just one more facade. One more show of strength with nothing behind it. One more story that Isabel tells people to keep them behaving as she wants.”
Isra took a deep breath and addressed the crowd in Cytherean. “I am sorry. We are all sorry. We came to this planet with a mission, to meet other human civilizations scattered throughout the solar system and to nurture and protect those civilizations from any force that would seek to harm. I failed. I was so blinded by my own ambition that I refused to see the suffering going on all around me. And I was so distracted by the game of politics that I could not come to the aid of those who were already fighting. But they still came to my aid.
“I know that you’ve thrown everything you have into the fight and you haven’t much left. I am here now to ask you to follow me into one more battle.”
The crowd erupted into roars of anger and a smattering of Cytherean profanity. The energy was muted but Viekko sensed that, if they all hadn’t just exhausted their strength in a bloody battle, they might have charged Isra at this point. She stood listening to the shouts and calls. She scanned the crowd with one eye like freezing steel, until the people gradually quieted.
“Cytherea City is based on a story about fear,” Isra continued. “Fear that if anyone dares to cross Rainha Isabel, forces from beyond the wall will rise and crush the city leaving nothing but ruins. Fear that agents within their own city are actively trying to undermine and destroy it. Fear of the very people standing in front of me today.”
There was motion in the crowd and Alexandre made his way to the front, looking at Isra as if he was attempting to stare her down. “What do you propose?” he asked finally.
“Rainha Isabel’s ancestor, Maximilliano, led a Corsario army into the city once. The story is so well known and the attack so legendary that they named the street he used after him. It is the secret that all Cytherean rulers have held since that day. The easiest way to attack the city is on the Via Maximilliano. So we will!”
The crowd erupted again and Viekko felt the urge to stand in front of Isra as a few rocks and other projectiles sailed through the air and clanged off the hull of the shuttle. But Isra stood silently, waiting for another opportunity to speak.
The angry roar subsided enough for Alexandre to shout over the top of it. “Nobody attacks the Via Maximilliano. It is suicide!”
“It’s the most direct route to the Cytherean Sala,” argued Isra over the crowd. “And it is completely unguarded! I know because I traversed it on my way here. There is nobody.”
Alexandre spoke up again. “You lie! Just as others have lied to us! You work with the Rainha to destroy us forever!”
Alexandre continued to speak, but his voice was lost in the growing outrage. Isra raised her hand to try to quiet the crowd but it didn’t drop by a decibel. A few of the soldiers in the back started to limp away, but most seemed to content to stay and scream at Isra as long as they could physically stand. It was as if they were letting go of their anger in one magnificent tantrum.
“You tried,” said Viekko, inching away from the angry mob that was pressing uncomfortably close. “Maybe it is time to give up.”
Isra didn’t look away from the shouting crowd. “Give me one of your guns.”
“Excuse me?” Viekko was pretty sure he heard her correctly but the implications were too dire to think about.
Isra held out her hand and spoke more forcefully. “Give me a gun.”
There was no arguing with her like this. He pulled a gun from his left shoulder holster and handed it to her.
She took it without a word, held it straight up in the air and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed across the sweltering plains and the increasingly unruly crowd fell silent.
Isra let her hand holding the semi-automatic pistol drop to her side. She stayed perfectly still, closed her remaining eye, tilted her head back and took long, slow breaths as if trying to center herself and shut out the noise and distractions from the world around her. While she did, the Corsario watched her every movement, as if trying to decide whether to flee or not.
There was something unnatural in her remaining, normally blue-grey eye, something intense and wild that seemed colder than a Martian winter. When she spoke it sounded low and from far away. “I understand. We have asked so much of you already and it was wrong for me to ask any more from your people, especially after all you’ve already endured.”
Isra started walking. The crowd, out of instinct, parted to let her pass. Alexandre watched her go for a moment before he shouted, “Where are you going?”
Isra stopped. From where the shuttle sat, one could just make out the stone arch that formed the front of the Via Maximilliano. She looked at as if she might cut it down with her glare alone. “I am going to the Sala Gran. I am going to walk in, hold the Rainha as a hostage and use her as leverage to force the Cytherean army into capitulation.”
With that, Isra started walking. Viekko hurried to catch up with her before she was too far away. “Interestin’ tactic there.”
Isra nodded but didn’t say anything.
Viekko decided to press the issue. “So are you going to fill me in on your plan?”
“You heard my plan,” said Isra.
“That was it? You’re just going to march up to the Sala Gran and hold the Rainha at gunpoint?”
“Is that plan too confusing for you? I could simplify it.”
Viekko looked at the arch and, beyond that, the silhouette of the Maxwell Mons. “Just never figured you for the suicide mission type.”
Isra stopped and looked at him. “What makes you think this is a suicide mission?”
Viekko shrugged. “Chargin’ into a fortified and heavily armed city alone. That’s basically the definition.”
“I am not alone.”
“Isra, I will follow you to the far corners of the solar system, but I stop just shy of certain death.”
“Look behind you,” said Isra, marching forward.
For the first time, Viekko glanced over his shoulder. The crowd of Corsario, full of trepidation at first, was slowly falling into line behind them.
“You knew they would follow you?”
Isra nodded. “They want a leader.”
“They didn’t seem gung-ho earlier.”
“It is basic survival instincts for a soldier. If the General is not willing to take the first step onto the battlefield, then one does not go to war.”
Isra led the way across the scorching plains up to the gates of Cytherea City and the Via Maximilliano. She stopped at the stone arch where the cracked, hard-baked rock changed into the cobblestone streets of Cytherea.
Viekko stopped beside her. “Having second thoughts?”
Isra shook her head. “If I am wrong, there is no escape. This is where we will die.”
Viekko pulled his other gun and pulled the slide back with a click. “Better not be wrong then.”
“I am not.” She turned to the group of Corsario that had followed her to this spot.
Viekko noted, with some satisfaction, that nearly everyone who was still physically able and even a few wounded limped to their position. Isra addressed her army. “Once we start on this road, we make for the Sala no matter what. Keep your eyes up and, if there is danger, we charge. If we die here then at least we died trying to make a final stand.”
Isra turned back to the Via Maximilliano, took another deep breath. “Cover me.”
Viekko unholstered his gun and scanned the tops of the walls and the road ahead. “Isra, are you sure…”
“It is all a story, Viekko. All of it.” said Isra taking the first steps onto the road.
Viekko watched the Via Maximilliano through the sight of his gun while Isra’s boots clicked against the cobbles, echoing off the walls. There were no showers of arrows, bullets, or rocks. No alarm would be sounded. Not a single body moved along the top of the wall. When he could finally let out the breath of air he had been holding, he stepped onto th
e cobbles to follow Isra.
Soon, the rest of the Corsario followed, holding their lanca fogos toward the tops of the walls. Every small sound or hint of movement caused them to start, but that was it.
They really would take the Rainha’s Sala without a fight.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The mysterious disappearance of a large portion of the Brazilian population remains one of the greatest undiscussed mysteries in the story of the Fall. The Brazilian war, to this day, holds the title of the most costly war in history in terms of human life. It is estimated that nearly one hundred million died in the bombardments, in the ensuing invasions or as a result of the starvation and disease they caused. Only a little over two hundred million survived to try to rebuild their lives under Corporate control. By conservative estimates, that leaves anywhere from five to ten million unaccounted for. While there are rumors of Corporation files that contain answers, none have ever been proven credible. To this day, the true tale of the end of the Brazilian war remains one of its most closely guarded secrets in all of human history.
-From The Fall: The Decline and Failure of 21st Century Civilization by Martin Raffe
Viekko stopped at the stone archway at the end of the Via Maximilliano and peered through a set of binoculars at the Sala Gran. He noted, with some satisfaction, that a squad of Cytherean soldiers was walking through the front doors, undoubtedly to enjoy the latest victory feast. Most of them were unarmed and had no idea that hundreds of Corsario were making their way up the main street even now.
The element of surprise would be short-lived, though. They would have to move fast to maintain this advantage. Isra stopped next to him, and several Corsario soldiers settled in behind him.
“How does it look?” asked Isra.
Viekko watched as the last of that particular squad entered the main doors. “They don’t suspect a thing. Not yet. But we gotta make this count and right now.”
Isra nodded and turned to the soldiers. “On my word, charge. Storm the Sala and take positions around the parameter. Kill anyone who tries to resist. But not the Rainha. She must remain alive.”
A slow murmur passed through the soldiers. When there appeared to be a consensus, Viekko replaced the binoculars in his jacket pocket and unholstered his remaining gun. Isra gripped the other as if it were her only tether to salvation.
“Now! Go! Attack!” yelled Viekko, sprinting toward the main doors of the Sala.
Isra sprinted after him yelling, “Avancar! Ataque!”
Viekko led the full sprint across the courtyard to the main doors, kicked them open and strode in with his handgun raised. The loud crack of wood on stone sent several oculto running for cover. The lively victory party inside silenced as the Corsario poured in through the open doors and took up positions along the walls, nervously pointing their lanca fogo at any living soul dumb enough to move too quickly. A few soldiers at the tables stood up but, after realizing the situation, either sat back down or stood frozen.
Viekko surveyed the room. The Rainha at her throne at the front of the great hall was the only one in the mass of people who didn’t look surprised or shocked at all. She just sat as still as a statue with a face as resolute and defiant as her ancestors carved in stone outside.
There was a loud, explosive crack and Viekko spun around to see a Cytherean soldier grip his chest and stumble backward. The Corsario who had fired made it clear by the way he held his weapon, that he was ready to use the bayonet on the end if it came to it. Other warriors beside him trained their sights on any others who might be foolish enough to attempt something else.
Despite all of this, Celia got up from her place at the Rainha’s side and marched toward Viekko. “What are you doing? Do you have any idea the fire and violence we will bring—”
She was cut short as Isra rushed forward and pointed the gun at her head. “The lanca fogo. Where are they?”
Celia glared at Isra and bared her teeth like an animal. “I do not know what you speak—”
Isra pressed the barrel of the gun into the side of Celia’s face. “You were afraid of the Rainha. You were afraid of this.” Isra tilted her head to the left to show the bandage wrapped around the right side of her face. “That is the only reason I have not killed you yet. But, unless you want to die, you will show me where you keep the Corsario weapons.”
Celia glanced at the Rainha motionless in the chair as more Corsario filed into the main chambers. “I… I’m sorry, Isra. I didn’t…”
Isra grabbed the emissary by the red cloak attached to her dress and started pulling her out of the room. “If you want to apologize, you will show me what I want to see.” Isra paused at the door that led deeper into the Sala and called to Viekko. “Do you have things under control?”
“I will.” Viekko jumped up onto one of the large tables and started walking toward the center of the room speaking Cytherean. “Good day, everybody! I’m sure you all know who these people are. Drop what weapons you have and remain calm, nobody else has to get hurt here.”
A soldier near Viekko jumped from his seat. “You will die…”
Viekko held his gun directly at the Rainha, her serene eyes looking at him from between his gun sights. “Not before I kill your Rainha. So be calm. Now, Isabel, would you please stand up?”
Isabel rose from her throne and stepped forward. Viekko jumped down from the table to stand beside her, keeping his gun aimed at her head. She turned slightly toward him. “When Gabriel discovers this…”
“Sim,” Viekko interrupted. “I had forgotten about him.” He used his other hand to point at the soldier who had stood and addressed him earlier, who still watched Viekko with all the contempt that one man could muster, “You! Leave and tell Gabriel what’s happening. Tell him to bring soldiers. All of them. But do not enter the Sala. If anyone enters, the Rainha dies. Go now!”
The soldier hesitated for a moment, watching the Corsario that surrounded everyone in the room. Then he turned and ran out of the great hall. “Barricade the doors. Nobody in or out,” Viekko ordered as soon as the soldier was out.
As a few Corsario went to carry out his order, the Rainha continued to glare at him. “That will not stop him forever. And Cytherea is greater than any one person. If I must sacrifice myself, I will.”
Her words caused some slight commotion among the large group of Cytherean soldiers. Worried that they might try something, Viekko fired a shot. The bullet flew inches from the Rainha’s head and buried itself in one of the stone walls, but it caused the room to fall silent once more.
“I don’t doubt that you would die for your city, Rainha,” said Viekko, aiming the gun at her head again. “In fact, when people discover the truth about you, I think they’ll insist on it.”
For the first time, Isabel’s expression changed. It was slight, but it was there. Her head tilted a few degrees down, and her eyes wandered to the floor. “What truth do you speak of?”
One of the doors to the Sala interior swung open, and Isra entered again still holding Celia by her cloak and the gun to her head. At least ten oculto followed with armloads of lanca fogo holding three or four weapons each they dropped them into a pile in the center of the room, each adding to the growing stack as the Rainha’s subjects looked on in surprise.
“What is this?” Another soldier asked as he stood up from his place at one of the tables and walked over to inspect the pile.
“It is as I suspected,” said Isra, releasing the emissary. “The Corsario did not create these weapons themselves, they are being manufactured in the city and assembled right here in the basement of the Sala Gran.”
Viekko smiled and turned back to the Rainha. “The truth I speak is this. Cytherea is a lie. Something you made up yourself. It is a story you told so many times that it became the truth for everyone in the city. But it is not real. It was never real. Cytherea has no enemies besides the Rainha. Look for yourself. The Rainha armed the Corsario all along. She is the one who told them how and where to raid. Ev
ery one of your friends and fellow soldiers that died at the hands of the Corsario died because of her.”
The soldier looked at the pile of guns and back to his ruler. “Is this true Rainha?”
Isabel straightened up but didn’t speak.
“That’s all right,” said Viekko. “We have time. We will all learn the truth.” He pulled the radio from his belt. “Cronus! Are you there? We did it! We took the Sala, and we’ve got Rainha Isabel.”
****
The past couple of hours had been tense aboard Joana’s ship. The long silence since the last of Viekko’s attacks appeared to signal complete defeat. Cronus was ready to run, but Joana kept him there, assuring him that he would be safe. So they sat together in the remains of the colony ship that had brought Cythereans to Venus generations ago. Cronus talked about Earth until finally, Viekko’s announcement came over the radio.
Templum Veneris Page 33
