Imperial Black

by David Bishop

  "What the hell is wrong with you?" Mai demanded.

  "Even if you kill me, I won't feel it," he said quietly. "My master had all my nerve centres surgically shut down, to turn me into an unbeatable fighting machine. 'The man who feels no pain almost feels no fear', that's what he told me after the operation." The Enforcer pressed the gauntlet impaled by the broken blade against the floor, gradually forcing the slice of metal through his hand until it fell free.

  Mai spun round on the spot, one foot arcing through the air to smash into his head. The impact cracked his helmet apart and the facemask fell free, revealing the ruptured features underneath. They were a mass of scar tissue and ancient wounds, a road map of pain. A chill of recognition ran through Mai. No, it couldn't be, it wasn't possible. She knelt before him, one hand reaching for the broken face. "Rai? Is it you?"

  FIFTEEN

  "Freedom for the free,

  and heaven for the survivors."

  - Russian proverb

  "Samovar is part of the Romanov dynasty and widely considered to be the harshest prison colony in the Empire. Nicknamed the Gulag Apocalyptic, it was said no one ever returns from Samovar. I was despatched to this distant outpost in the Starship Andrei Tarkovsky, as bodyguard to a distinguished visitor [name deleted]. I subsequently discovered the prisoners were being used as raw material for [remainder of text deleted by an unknown hand]."

  - Extract from Nikolai Dante's report on the Samovar Incident, 2667 AD

  Dante recognised the smell of burning flesh and the screams of pain coming from outside the throne room door. He had seen what the citadel's monks could do, but Ivanov had too many men to be held back for long. Dante extended the cyborganic swords from each of his hands, stepping between the doorway and the Mukari. He glanced over his shoulder at Khumbu standing by the windows. "If you've got any tricks, old man, now's the time to use them!"

  The door smashed inwards, soldiers brandishing their weapons. Dante killed five of them before he was overwhelmed. A soldier gripped each of his arms and held them in check, pistols levelled against Dante's head. Khumbu offered no resistance, his quivering hands hanging at his sides. Once the throne room was declared safe, the general strode in, a broad smile on his cruel face. "Ah, the redoubtable Romanov renegade! I might have known you'd get here first - but it shall do you no good. Your partners in crime are being held captive by my men, while your slant-eyed sidekick is having her neck crushed by the Enforcer. Whatever you came here to do, you have failed."

  "Spare me the gloating, Vassily," Dante replied.

  "I don't recall saying you were permitted to address me by my first name," the general snapped. "Such impertinence shall be your undoing." Dante did not speak, preferring to make an obscene finger gesture. "And such crudity too. You should be honoured to stand in the presence of such a fine soldier!"

  "Honour be damned."

  "Rai, what happened to you? I thought you were dead," Mai whispered to her brother. The Enforcer knelt in front of her, his hands dripping blood on the black floorboards.

  "I thought I was dead, too," Rai replied, his scarred lips struggling to form the words. "Ivanov and his men captured me outside the Governor's mansion in Rudinshtein. The civilians I was leading to safety, they-"

  "Were all slaughtered, I know. Dante said you volunteered to take them."

  Rai nodded. "I was young and idealistic, a fool. The general taught me the error of my ways, tutored me in the reality of the world. The reality of war."

  "I read a battlefield report about your death, signed by Ivanov himself. He said Dante shot you to prevent his interrogators getting any information about Romanov troop movements."

  "Dante fired because the general was going to use serpent-wire on me. He thought the bullet killed me, but it hit the canister of serpent-wire instead." Rai touched a bloody hand to his horrific face, caressing the scars as though they were old friends. "When the serpent wire exploded, I caught most of it in the face, tiny fragments all fighting to slice through me. Ivanov's own surgeon worked for eighteen hours to get them out before they reached my brain. Dante did this to me, but the general saved my life."

  Mai shook her head. "That's a warped version of reality, Rai. Ivanov's twisted the facts, turned you into his slave, his pet torturer."

  Rai glared at her. "The general said you wouldn't understand. He knew how it would be if we ever met, face to face. He's a great man, Mai. He's been like a father to me."

  "What about our real father? Did you ever wonder what happened to him?"

  "I don't need to wonder," Rai said, smiling bitterly. "I already know. He was headman of the village we attacked. I killed him myself."

  Mai stared at her brother, disbelieving. "You couldn't... You wouldn't!"

  "The Imperial Black is all the family I need," Rai smiled. His hands shot forwards, grabbing his sister by the throat. "That's why I have to kill you, Mai."

  Spatchcock and Flintlock were held captive in a latrine block at the eastern end of the citadel's lowest level, guarded by four Imperials. When Flintlock complained at the smell of stale urine, the soldiers laughed bitterly. One removed his helmet to sneer at the Brit, the insignia of a sergeant evident on his black uniform. "This place doesn't stink half as bad as you two."

  "My associate may have the odour of a dung heap while possessing none of its charm," Flintlock replied, "but I pride myself on-"

  "Shut your mouth," the sergeant retorted. "I don't care if you smell sweeter than the Tsarina's purse. You made us lose face in front of the general. That's gonna cost you both. Now, how do you intend to pay?"

  "I'm not sure I understand your meaning," Flintlock said.

  "It's simple. You fill our money pouches with roubles or else we have to find another way of getting our money's worth out of you two." The sergeant grabbed his own crotch and shook it, to the amusement of his comrades.

  "Sorry to be obtuse, but I'm still not quite with you," the Brit bumbled.

  Spatchcock sighed. "It's simple, your lordship. Either we pay up or else they turn us into their whores."

  "Oh," Flintlock said, his mind processing the information. He caught the lecherous glint in the eyes of their captors. "Oh!"

  "Don't worry your lily-white ass," Spatchcock continued. "We can pay these boys off with that bag of gold I hid down your trousers."

  "Bag of gold?" Flintlock glanced down at his crotch in bewilderment.

  "I heard you mention that before," the sergeant said. "Let's see the proof."

  "Certainly," Spatchcock smiled, plunging a hand inside his partner's pants.

  "I say!"

  Spatchcock leaned closer to Flintlock. "Whatever you do next, don't breathe in," he whispered, his hand clasping a small object in the Brit's breeches.

  "Whatever you do next, don't squeeze," Flintlock replied.

  "Oh... Sorry," Spatchcock said apologetically. He resumed rummaging.

  By now the soldiers were growing impatient. "What's taking so damned long? If this bag of gold is going to satisfy all of us, it'll need to be impressive!"

  Spatchcock smiled and winked at Flintlock as his search located its target. "Don't worry, boys... I'm sure this will make a big impression on you." He pulled his hand free and flung its contents at the Imperials in a single movement. Glass shattered on the stone floor by their feet and green gas billowed outwards, rapidly engulfing the surprised soldiers. Spatchcock was already running for the door, pulling Flintlock along with him. Behind them were moans of pain mixed with the sounds of vomiting and bowels being evacuated.

  "What the devil was that?" Flintlock shouted.

  "I hid my supply of purge juice in your pants when the Imperials took us captive," Spatchcock called back, fleeing for his life.

  "But what if the vial had broken inside my trousers?"

  Shot flew past the two fugitives as the stricken soldiers opened fire.

  Spatchcock smiled. "Then you wouldn't be quite so full of sh-"

  "Shut up and run!" Flintlock snapp
ed, overtaking him.

  Ivanov lashed out, his right fist plunging into Dante's midriff. The prisoner doubled over in pain, air whistling out from between his teeth. The general stepped closer and thrust a knee up into Dante's groin, the impact so hard it lifted him off the floor. Once the captive had finished coughing and retching, Ivanov lifted Dante's head by the hair and spat phlegm into his eyes. "It's time somebody taught you some manners, whelp. A little respect for your elders and betters."

  "You might be older than me, but you're no better," Dante replied. That earned him a slap across the face. "Getting warmed up yet? In the crotch area, I mean." Another slap, then another, and another. "I'll take that as a yes, shall I?"

  "You'll take it and you'll like it," the general hissed, his breath coming in short, excited gasps. He straightened up, letting go of Dante's hair. "But I have more pressing matters than teaching you how to behave. The Tsar sent me here on a specific mission and now is time for that mission to be accomplished." Ivanov strode across the room to Khumbu. "Where is the weapon?"

  "I do not know of what you speak," the old monk replied.

  "This citadel houses a powerful weapon, a weapon the Romanovs had planned to use against the Tsar during the war. The Ruler of all the Russias has sent me and my men-"

  "What's left of them," Dante interjected.

  "-to take possession of this weapon for the good of the Empire," Ivanov continued. "You shall give the weapon to me or suffer the consequences."

  "We have no weapon," Khumbu insisted. "We are holy men, disciples of the Mukari, living goddess of our people."

  The general looked around the room. "Do you mean this girl?" he laughed.

  The monk nodded gravely. "She is our deity, made flesh on this earth."

  Ivanov snapped his fingers and one of the soldiers produced a knife, its hilt inlaid with the symbol of the Tsar. "You claim to have no weapon, yet your monks used some form of psychic energy to kill dozens of my men."

  "The goddess gives us such ability for her defence, nothing else."

  "I was told the weapon you keep here is so powerful, its secret so great, that anyone who looked upon it would be blinded." Ivanov rested the point of his knife against one of the empty sockets in Khumbu's head. "Is that what happened to you and the other monks?"

  "No, we blinded ourselves, out of respect for the Mukari's greatness."

  "You blinded yourselves?"

  "Yes."

  The general nodded in admiration. "Your fervour does you credit, no matter how misdirected it might be. Plainly, you and your men are willing to die in the service of your goddess. Threatening your life would be of little use." Ivanov took his knife away from Khumbu's face. He went to the Mukari and snatched her up, lifting the girl from the floor, his foot kicking aside the wooden elephant she had been playing with.

  The general examined her face. "Remarkable. She is quite flawless. Not a blemish, not a mark."

  "That is one of the criteria for choosing our goddess," Khumbu said.

  Ivanov studied the Mukari closely. "And what are the other criteria?"

  "She must be born on the nearby mountain. She must never have shed blood. She must never laugh or smile in the presence of anyone but her disciples. She must-"

  "Enough." The general smiled at Khumbu. "I'm sorry to say you may struggle to find a replacement. The nearest village suffered a tragedy recently."

  "You mean you had its people tortured and murdered for your amusement," Dante snarled.

  "Tragedy or torture, the consequences are the same." Ivanov held his knife close to the Mukari's throat. "So, if I were to slip and accidentally slay this child, you would be without a goddess, yes?"

  "If what you say is true, then the holy line would be broken," Khumbu said fearfully, "and everything we have preserved shall be undone."

  "Then you have a simple choice," Ivanov replied. "Hand over possession of the weapon or else I gut your goddess like a fish. I will do it too, won't I Nikolai?"

  "Yes," Dante admitted.

  "I cannot give you what we do not have," Khumbu maintained.

  "Then your living goddess shall live no longer," Ivanov vowed, his hand drawing back the knife in the air.

  The Enforcer squeezed his hands together, pressing both thumbs against Mai's windpipe, slowly crushing the life from his sister's slender neck. He was surprised how quickly she died, her body falling limp in less than a minute. After satisfying himself she was dead, the major tossed her corpse to one side and marched towards the throne room. Ivanov will need me by now, he thought. I have wasted enough time on the past.

  "Killing me will not be necessary," the Mukari said, before Ivanov could plunge his knife into her. "If you want the secret of the Forbidden Citadel, you need only ask. I am the keeper of this legacy, as have been all the Mukari who came before me."

  The general relaxed, letting the knife drop back to his side again. "Show me this mighty weapon, so I may look upon its wonder for myself." As Ivanov spoke, the Enforcer strode into the room. "Where is your facemask?"

  "The woman knocked it free before she died."

  "Mai's dead?" Dante twisted round to see the new arrival. "I know that voice..." His eyes studied the Enforcer's exposed face, realisation slowly dawning on him. "Private Rai? But I saw you die in Rudinshtein. I killed you!"

  "Not quite," Ivanov snarled. "Guards, if Dante speaks again, you have my permission to cut out his tongue. If he tries to resist, you have my permission to kill him. I had hoped to keep that pleasure for myself, but I will not be interrupted again." The general smiled at the Mukari, his eyes glinting with excitement. "Well, goddess - unveil this secret so we can all see it."

  The girl brought her hands together as if praying, closing her eyes. The air temperature within the throne room dropped dramatically and the balcony doors were flung open for a moment before slamming shut again. The exotically carved wooden throne flew across the room, narrowly missing the Mukari's head before crashing against a wall. Swirling winds whipped at the white tapestry that hung behind the raised dais where the throne had stood. Silver threads in the centre of the tapestry glowed and pulsated with energy, the subtle design woven into the fabric becoming obvious to all those watching it.

  Dante, I'm detecting something else besides another Crest in this chamber - a massive power source. There's something familiar about it...

  "The double-headed eagle of the Romanovs," Ivanov said, pointing at the tapestry. "But what is the significance of this?"

  The Mukari smiled, blinking once. As she did the glowing white tapestry shimmered out of existence, the wall on which it had hung also disappeared. In their place was a walkway leading towards a swirling globe of alien energy, a vortex some two metres wide. Khumbu dropped to his knees, bowing before the holiest of holies in the citadel.

  Dante looked deep into the vortex and shuddered. He knew where it led, the power it represented, and what its existence in this place could mean if the Tsar harnessed that power for himself. Up until now this mission had been merely another adventure in a life full of such adventures. Suddenly, the stakes were much higher he could possibly have imagined. The future of the Empire was up for grabs in this room.

  Ivanov stepped closer to the vortex, the Enforcer joining him. "What is it?" the general asked, his eyes filled with wonder.

  "A doorway to another world, a bridge to another universe," Khumbu said reverentially. "It is the source of our power. It is the source of all that we are."

  "I tire of your riddles and religious babblings," Ivanov snarled. "How do we control this weapon? How do we use it? Tell me!"

  Khumbu shrugged helplessly. "I do not tell you because I do not know. My brethren and I are merely the humble disciples of the Mukari. She alone controls the power of the vortex."

  "So why am I wasting time talking with you?" The general kicked the old monk in the head, sending him backwards across the floor. Khumbu thudded into the far wall, his bones snapping at the point of impact. Ivanov nodded to th
e Enforcer, who grabbed hold of the Mukari. Ivanov rested his knife against the girl's left cheek, letting the tip nudge into the soft skin. "Tell me how to use this weapon or else."

  The girl did not flinch, did not turn away from the general's maniacal gaze. "What must be, will be," she said quietly.

  "She isn't afraid of you," Dante called out.

  Anger flushed Ivanov's face. "Guards, I said I did not wish to hear the prisoner's voice again. Cut out his tongue. Now!"

  Dante struggled against the Imperials but with his arms pinned, there was little he could do to resist. One of the soldiers forced a knife between Dante's clamped teeth, trying to slice at what was beyond them.

  "Hold!" the Enforcer screamed, stilling the soldier's movements.

  Ivanov rounded on his second-in-command. "You dare countermand one of my orders, major? You know the penalty for flouting my authority!"

  "And I will suffer that punishment gladly, sir, but hear me out. That tapestry had the symbol of the Romanovs woven into it, just as Dante has the same symbol on his left arm: the mark of the Weapons Crest. The girl does not fear death, she will not tell us how to use this vortex's power. But Dante will, as long as he still has a tongue with which to speak."

  "And why should he tell us?" the general demanded.

  "Because if he doesn't, you cut the girl's throat in front of him." The Enforcer glanced at Dante. "Women and children are his weakness, he never wants to see them hurt. I know -- I almost died for his pathetic compassion."

  Ivanov smiled, patting the major's shoulder. "You are right. Forgive me for doubting you. There shall be no punishment for your timely intervention."

  "Thank you, sir."

  The general turned his attention back to the Mukari, sliding the edge of the blade down her face to rest against the girl's neck. He signalled for the guards to remove the knife from Dante's mouth so the prisoner could speak. "Well, will you tell me what you know about this vortex, or shall I cut this child's throat?"