“I used to think that my Palace would be splendid,” Roland said, as he closed the hatch. “This room is ... bare.”
Belinda elbowed him. “This is the access point to the tunnel network,” she said. “It isn't where your family would entertain guests.”
She motioned for him to remain quiet, then slipped into the next room. It was a security office, she realised in some surprise, but it had been completely abandoned and the computers and data terminals shut down. Judging from the dust, it had been shut down for years, well before the current crisis had begun. Belinda puzzled over it for a moment, then realised that the Grand Senate hadn't bothered to leave the guard in place when they’d taken over the Imperial Palace after Roland’s father had died. If they didn't know about the tunnel, they might not have seen the need to leave a guard in place.
And the guards wouldn't have talked, she thought, as she checked the consoles. Having a secrecy implant would have been a precondition of their employment.
“Come inside,” she muttered to Roland. The files she’d been given as his liegeman suggested that the Royal Family’s overrides would apply to all of their computers. “See if you can turn these computers on.”
Roland pushed his fingertip against the sensor. There was a brief pause, long enough for Belinda to wonder if the Grand Senate had used a very basic method to disable the system, then the console came to life. The network the First Emperor had created was still in command of the palace. Roland sat down in front of the system and began to tap away at it, looking for information. Belinda rolled her eyes, regretting – once again – the loss of her neural link. With it, she could have pulled everything she wanted from the network in bare seconds.
The Prince knew very little about computers, even about the network that was specifically keyed to his family. Belinda suspected that most of the secrets were passed down from Emperor to Crown Prince, but Roland’s father had died before he could tell his son anything. And the First Emperor had been so paranoid that no one else could use the system, even once it had been unlocked by a blood relative. She had to stand behind Roland and offer advice as he tried to pull information out of the system.
“They seem to have installed their own system,” she said, slowly. It made sense; no one would be happy using a network that had overrides built into it by the nominal owner. “It isn't linked to the main network.”
“They’re still using the Palace’s systems,” Roland pointed out. “I can crash them ...”
Belinda grinned. “Do it,” she ordered.
***
Stephen had never given way to bloodlust in his entire life. He’d ordered deaths in the past, he’d ordered horrific atrocities to clear the way for his own plans, but he’d never enjoyed the task. It was just something he had to do to accomplish his ends. But now, staring at the students and traitorous Civil Guardsmen as they scattered, he felt himself overwhelmed by a desire to make them hurt. They could be killed, they could be tortured, they could be raped ... they deserved each and every second of pain for what they had done. He wanted them to suffer.
“Your Excellency,” Captain Yaquis said. “The shuttle is ready for you to depart ...”
“Quiet,” Stephen hissed. A young student was being beaten to death by three of his men; another, a girl who had obviously breathed in too much of the gas, was choking on the ground, unable even to clear her throat. Maybe there would be enough damage to Earth’s biosphere that it would finally collapse, leaving the population to die like the vermin they were. “I want to watch.”
“We need to clear our way through the orbital defences,” Captain Yaquis said. “Sir, we cannot guarantee maintaining even a laser link to the stations in orbit for much longer.”
Stephen ignored him. A pair of students – boyfriend and girlfriend, he guessed – were being made to undress at gunpoint. They both looked absolutely terrified; where, he wondered nastily, was their arrogance now? His men knew that they could do whatever they liked to the students ...
“Sir,” Captain Yaquis insisted. “We have to go now!”
“All right,” Stephen said, tiredly. Cold logic told him that the Captain was right – there was hundreds of thousands of tons of debris falling on Earth, as well as a colossal uprising from the Undercity – and he could watch the recordings later on his ship, with a drink in his hand. “I’ll deal with the defences myself ...”
He used his implants to link into the network and send orders for them to avoid firing on the shuttle. Not all of the network would obey – and there were parts that wouldn't get the order at all – but it would give them a chance to survive. And once they were on his ship, they could get away from Earth and head directly to his client worlds, where he could start rebuilding while the Empire fell into chaos.
And then the Imperial Palace’s network crashed.
Yaquis swore out loud, clearly rattled. The Imperial Palace had two separate generators and plenty of stored power held in reserve. It was impossible to cut the power from the outside. The only way it could be done was ...
Stephen sucked in a breath. “Roland!”
The Prince had survived? How could he have survived the Undercity? His bodyguard might be good, but was she that good? But he had to have survived; the Royal Family were the only people with complete access to the Palace’s datanet. No one else, even a liegeman, could simply have shut it down.
He stood up. “We have to get to the shuttle,” he said, grimly. “Bring all of the bodyguards ... and give them specific orders. If they see the Prince, he is to be captured and brought with us.”
“Yes, sir,” Yaquis said.
Stephen allowed the bodyguards to hurry him out of the room. One way or another, he wouldn't be coming back. When he restored his control over Earth, he would have the Imperial Palace blasted from orbit, just to make damn sure that the previous Royal Family’s legacy was completely gone. In fact, he’d turn the entire surface of Earth into dust and then terraform the planet. If the Emperor had to live on Earth, Earth would damn well be a proper home for him.
And if the entire ungrateful population died out, Stephen wouldn't shed a single tear.
***
“The network is down,” Roland said. He glanced outside. “Most of the lighting is gone too.”
“They’ll head for the hanger bay,” Belinda said. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to take off without the computer network, but she knew better than to count on it. If she’d had even a vague idea of what the Imperial Palace’s network could do, she wouldn't have relied on it at all. “Come on!”
The darkened passageways were completely deserted. Belinda guessed that most of the staff had been told to stay in their quarters as soon as the emergency began and not to come out for any reason at all. It was standard procedure. The staff would end up dead as the Palace started to collapse around them, but there was nothing she could do for them. Perhaps the collapsed network would give them a chance to leave the Palace ...
Sure, Pug’s voice mocked. And go where?
The hanger bay was surprisingly similar to a starship’s shuttlebay, Belinda saw, as they ran into the chamber. The Grand Senator was standing in front of the shuttle, turning to stare at them – at Roland – with an expression of absolute fury pasted over his face. He almost seemed to be on the verge of madness as his bodyguards ran forward, most of them running straight at Belinda herself. She cursed out loud as she realised that they were augmented too and braced herself. Even if they weren't up to Pathfinder standards, she wasn’t up to Pathfinder standards either. This wasn't going to be pretty.
Just remember your training, Doug reminded her. And don’t panic.
Belinda threw herself forward, calling on the last of her reserves. The first bodyguard moved quickly by human standards, but terrifyingly slow by the standards of the boost. She slammed a fist into his throat and crushed it, even though it was augmented enough to prevent her from simply taking off his head. His body twitched and fell to the ground, but Belinda hardly not
iced. She tore on to the next one as he took a swing at her and tried to dodge. This time, she was too slow and his blow landed on her upper back. It hurt more than it should have done.
Four more bodyguards lunged at Roland, grabbing him. Belinda tried to get over to help him, but two of her attackers landed on top of her, knocking her to the ground. She twisted, elbowed one of them in the jaw and broke free long enough to pull up her legs, kicking out at the other’s face with augmented strength. His head seemed to explode into bloody chunks of flesh, just as his friend grabbed hold of Belinda from behind and started to try to strangle her. She slammed her head back, ramming it into his jaw. He grunted in pain, the distraction lasting long enough for her to grab hold of his hands and rip them away from her. She barely heard him scream as she tore herself free and jumped back to her feet.
But she was too late. Roland had been dragged onto the shuttle and it was taking off. Desperately, gathering all of her remaining strength and determination, Belinda ran forward and jumped, landing on the shuttle’s wing ...
... As it rose up above the Imperial Palace and headed towards the safety of outer space.
Chapter Forty-Five
But for all their bravery, for all the determination shown by a Prince many had considered a useless fop, the odds were vastly against them ... and even though they succeeded in destroying the Emergency Committee’s control, it was already too late to save the Empire. The Emergency Committee was not the cause of the disease, but a symptom. Even its destruction could not prevent the final collapse.
-Professor Leo Caesius, The End of Empire
“Well, Your Highness,” Stephen said. “Your Empire is at an end.”
Roland glared at him. Two bodyguards were holding him tightly, while a third prepared to strap the Prince down so he couldn't move, but he still managed to look defiant. Clearly, Stephen noted, he’d underestimated the Prince all along. Or, perhaps, he’d underestimated the Marine’s ability to make a man of the foppish Prince. Not that it really mattered, he decided, as his bodyguard wrenched Roland’s hands behind his back and slipped on the cuffs. Roland was his prisoner now ... to be used or discarded as Stephen saw fit.
“There is no longer any throne for you to inherit,” Stephen added. “Lady Lily will not be your wife. The wealth your ancestors acuminated is gone. Your Summer Palace was burned down by the mob. Everything you once owned or would inherit is gone. Your very survival depends upon me.”
The Prince just kept glaring at him, without saying a word.
“I rather confess that I cannot think of any use for you,” Stephen said, keeping his voice as light as possible. “Maybe you can be put on trial for your crimes – after all, most of the Empire relies on the media to do its thinking for it. They were quite happy to believe you a useless fool, weren't they? Or perhaps you’ll just be dumped out of the airlock while we’re in Phase Space; they say that Phase Space is haunted by the ghosts of all who died while they were in transit. Do you think you might join them?”
Roland leaned forward and spat.
“Charming,” Stephen said, as he wiped it off his shirt. “And futile. You are completely in my power, Your Highness; you are completely alone. Your bodyguard is long gone.”
He turned to take his seat, then looked back. “And even if you did escape,” he added, “where would you go?”
***
Belinda forced herself forward as the shuttle picked up speed, feeling the airflow threatening to push her off the wing if she lost her grip. Only the implants built into her hands gave her a chance of holding on – and not all of them were working properly. She inched forward, seeing red alarms blinking up in front of her eyes; the shuttle was already passing through the upper atmosphere. Soon, she would be in airless vacuum. It wouldn't have been a problem if she'd been fully-functional, but without all of her implants ...
The shuttle’s hull felt smooth against her fingers as she clung on, as close to the hatch as she could. By Imperial Law, all shuttle and starship airlocks had to be accessible while the ship was in vacuum, just in case someone developed a problem with their spacesuit. She had no idea if that was true of the Emperor’s private shuttle, but there was no other hope. Her monofilament knife wouldn't be able to cut through the hullmetal that made up the outer hull.
WARNING, her implants said. AIR PRESSURE DROPPING.
Belinda gritted her teeth and banished the warning. It wasn't helping. Instead, she waited until the air pressure dropped to zero and then inched forward to the hatch access control. Her implants flashed up new alerts, reporting everything from targeting sensors to emergency beacons in low orbit; she banished those too, knowing that if someone decided to fire on the shuttle she would die before knowing what had hit her.
A laser beam, Pug suggested, nastily. Or perhaps a nuke. They’re throwing them around like party favours.
Her hand pushed against the access control and the airlock opened. Belinda pulled herself inside and smiled in relief as the shuttle’s compensator field took effect. The airlock hissed closed behind her, but the inner airlock remained shut. Belinda wasn't too surprised; allowing someone to find shelter in case of emergency was one thing, but granting them free access to the shuttle was another. Moving quickly, she retrieved the monofilament knife from its hiding place and slashed at just the right place, then kicked it with augmented strength. The airlock’s inner door shattered inwards.
She jumped through, retrieving her pistol from her belt as she moved. The Emperor’s shuttle was larger than the standard Marine assault shuttle; the rear section seemed to be more of a bar than anything else. It was decorated with more luxury than she’d seen during an operation to recover a passenger liner that had been hijacked by pirates, years ago. The shuttle had probably cost more than the entire Pathfinder Team had earned in a year.
More like a decade, McQueen said. But stop worrying about it now.
Belinda smiled as she saw four men spinning around to stare at her. None of them looked familiar, so she guessed that they were part of the Grand Senator’s personal staff. One of them reached for a handcom and Belinda shot him neatly through the head; the others lifted their hands in surrender. Belinda hesitated, then motioned for them to lie down on the deck and put their hands on their heads.
“Stay here,” she hissed. Under the circumstances, she could have legally killed them, but she wasn't that far gone. “If you move or speak, I’ll kill you. Stay here!”
She left them behind and slipped into the next section. It was a small kitchen, she realised, shaking her head in disbelief. The Emperor had really liked his comforts. No doubt all of his meals tasted better than Civil Guard rations – and they were actually worse than Marine rations. It was funny how she'd never believed that until after she’d tasted them both.
The following section was a small communications system. A man was sitting there, wearing a pair of headphones; Belinda guessed he was trying to follow the progress of the battle outside. If they went too close to a hostile station, or even a remote platform that was firing at everything within range, they would die ... someone had to try to figure out a safe passage through the combat zone. Belinda had to smile as she leaned forward and smacked the man hard on the head, stunning him. Only a handful of systems were so heavily industrialised and defended to make that a workable concern.
And normally we would clear the way first, she thought, as the man folded over the console. But the Senator doesn't have that luxury.
She stepped through the next door and saw two men coming forward, both carrying guns. They stared at her in disbelief – they might have heard the gunshot without realising what it was and resented being ordered to check – and then started to bring up their guns. Belinda shot them both and moved forward, jumping past their bodies before they had even hit the ground. She pushed the curtain ahead of her aside and peeked through. Prince Roland was seated on the deck, his hands out of sight, but probably tied. A bodyguard stood next to him, a pistol pointed at his head. The Gr
and Senator was seated towards the front of the compartment, staring at her. He must not have taken the gunshots seriously either.
***
“How the hell ...?”
He hadn't believed the stories, not really. Oh, he’d known enough to know that properly trained Marines could do astonishing feats, some utterly impossible to untrained civilians, but some of the stories had seemed completely unbelievable. They’d left the bitch down on Earth, Stephen told himself, as he stared at her. She'd been surrounded by bodyguards, all of whom had been augmented ... she should be dead! Or at least trapped on a dying world. How could she be on the shuttle?
She was terrifying. Blood ran down her face, contrasting sharply with cold blue eyes that dared Stephen to make a move. Her clothes were ripped and torn, but she didn't look vulnerable, not even slightly. Instead, she seemed almost insane.
And he'd sent two of his bodyguards to find out what had caused the alarm. They should have intercepted her ...
“It's over,” she said. Even her voice was inhuman. She’d sounded businesslike, almost sweet, the last time they’d met. It was the same woman and yet Stephen couldn’t link them together in his mind, even though he knew they were the same. One had been polite and deferential, the other was a monster. “Your time is up.”
Stephen found his voice. “Not yet,” he said. The girl – no, he had to stop thinking of her as anything other than an incredibly dangerous Marine - might be incredibly violent, but he would bet his life that he could outthink her, given time. He was betting his life that he could outthink her. She was clearly wounded, perhaps damaged – and he still had some cards to play. “Without me, you will never find anywhere to go.”
The Empire's Corps: Book 03 - When The Bough Breaks Page 42