Uprising (Gateway Series Book 3)

by Brian Dorsey

  “Then show me, Magakisca,” she whispered, kissing him deeply.

  ***

  Astra Varus took a sip of her wine and dabbed the side of her mouth with her napkin. She looked across the table she was sharing with General Vispa, Senators Marcus Sarius and Julius Lucretia, and her cousin, Magistrate Sequentis Varus. Placing the napkin on the table, she spoke.

  “So cousin, what news do you have for me?”

  “We have heard little by way of open resistance to the limiting of Senatorial power. Senator Centius attempted to introduce a vote that would challenge your decree, but he was easily defeated. I have added an additional team to monitor his household and servants. His head of security has also been interviewed for several hours.”

  “And the results?” asked Sarius.

  “Nothing definitive, but we have plans in place to establish a relationship between his head of security and a known associate of the Nero family we apprehended and sent to Capro. Additionally, one of his sons has a weakness for recreation girls and one of his frequent providers is working for us. With these things in place, we will have adequate leverage to silence Centius…and charge him if necessary.”

  “Excellent,” replied Astra. “And what of my old friend, Senator Malius?”

  “He has been oddly quiet, ProConsul,” answered Sequentis. “Even within the Senatorial hearings, he has done little to challenge your initiatives in the last few months.”

  Astra leaned forward in her chair. “That relic once took an hour to discuss how the way I walk was an example of my intent to limit Senatorial power,” she said. “And when I actually take steps to do it, he says nothing?”

  “It is very suspicious, ProConsul,” said Sequentis. “And the death of his son, Targus, is more troubling.”

  “Targus Malius is dead?” asked Astra, a funny sensation running down her spine. “He was Malius's eldest, no?”

  “Yes, ProConsul,” replied Sequentis. “And an open supporter of your initiatives.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “His body was found this morning in a private room in a recreation house along with two of his bodyguards and one of my agents.”

  “Why was one of your agents speaking with him?” asked Astra, the sensation running down her spine turning to a tightening of her stomach. “And why am I hearing of this only now?”

  “I received word from local authorities just before dinner, ProConsul.”

  “How were they killed?”

  “My agent and the bodyguards were shot, and Malius was strangled.”

  “What has been done about this?”

  “We are investigating the scene for evidence, interviewing anyone we can place at the recreation house; I have directed additional surveillance of all members of the Malius family.”

  “Luecentius Malius is up to something,” declared Astra. “But he would not have killed his eldest son. I want his killer found.” She added, “Use whatever means necessary.”

  “Yes, ProConsul,” replied Sequentis.

  “General Vispa,” said Astra, “increase the security on all facilities, and increase the Force Protection status of all units on Alpha Humana.”

  “Yes, ProConsul. Do you think increasing security across the planet is necessary for the death of one person? We are already at high levels of readiness with martial—”

  “Do it!” shouted Astra, slamming her fist into the desk. “We must get to the bottom of this.”

  The opening of the door to the dining chamber drew Astra’s attention. “What is the meaning of this interruption?” she demanded.

  The Praetorian at the door came to attention. “Mr. Artemis requests an audience. He said it was urgent.”

  “Let him in,” replied Astra.

  “Thank you, ProConsul,” said Artemis, entering the room as she spoke.

  “What is the meaning of this interruption, Mr. Artemis?”

  “I have someone you will want to talk to,” he continued, indicating a tall, rough-looking man with a full beard standing next to him.

  “And who is this?” asked Astra.

  “This, my dear ProConsul, is Terillian General Brand Maxa, and he has a very interesting story to tell.”

  Chapter 17

  Martin pulled her head above the bar as she worked out alone in the base gym. With the attack set for the next day, she couldn’t sleep so she did what she always did when she couldn’t sleep. Her left hand still ached, but she pushed through the pain as she pulled her head above the bar again.

  Everything would change tomorrow. Regardless of the outcome, she would never again have to play the pet of Astra Varus. If they were successful, she would see her people freed from the unseen yoke of the Xen and justice brought to the First Families who traded an entire planet’s freedom for their own security and power. If everything went as planned, Humani High Command would get the report of an approaching Terillian fleet, and when they activated the emergency defense protocols, it would trigger the other members of the resistance to action. Dropping to the ground from the pull-up bar, she took a deep breath. Her thoughts drifted back to the day she had held the blade of her sword against Sequentis Varus’s neck on Golf 2.

  ***

  “Inform Magistrate Varus we are secure in the Malius Fortress district,” ordered Assistant Regional Magistrate Flaria as he stood over the bodies of General Vanari and his staff. “Once the men are finished collecting the bodies and checking all of the data files for evidence of further resistance members, will you need any further assistance from my constables?” he asked to the Praetorian Major standing next to him.

  “That will not be necessary, Magistrate. General Vanari’s advance forces have been intercepted and placed under the command of Colonel Vulara near the Centius Plains region. They have been directed back into their barracks. What is the status of Vanari’s family?”

  “His family has been detained at their villa and are being prepared for transportation to the Magistrate Regional Headquarters,” replied Flaria.

  The Praetorian looked down toward the body of General Vanari. “You’ve reaped what you've sown, traitor,” he grumbled. “And the rest will soon follow you into the nothing.”

  ***

  Martin finished her pushups and rolled onto her back. Looking up toward the high ceiling of the gymnasium, she let out a heavy breath before beginning crunches. As she began pulling her torso upward repetitively, she thought about what she and her team would do when the attack started. They would first detonate a series of charges at key communications hubs and then make their way to the Forum. Once there, while posing to assist with security, they would position themselves to take out key officers. Except for Desro and her. They would attempt to make it to Astra…and kill her.

  ***

  “You know what you need to do?” asked Desro, holding his wife’s hands tightly.

  “Yes, Venny,” she replied, her face flushed and her eyes red from tears. “I’ll leave first thing in the morning and go to my cousin’s near Ragna.” He felt her grip tighten as he held her hands in his. “Are you sure this is going to work? What happens if—”

  “It will work, Lana. It has to. General Stone and Emily think it will work, and I believe them. But things will be crazy for a while, and I probably won’t be able to contact you.”

  “That’s nothing new,” replied Lana with a smile. “I am the wife of a Guardsman.”

  “You are,” he replied, running his hand over her hair. “Just stay at your cousin’s, and when it’s over—”

  A binging sound interrupted Desro. Someone was at their door.

  “Who is that?” asked Lana.

  “I don’t know,” replied Desro, knowing there was nothing good on the other side of the door. He activated the video monitor for the door. Outside stood fellow guardsman Captain Zaria. “It’s Garus,” he said, pulling his pistol from a belt hanging off a nearby chair.

  “What are you doing?” asked Lana. “It’s Garus.”

  “He’s
a First Family member,” replied Desro. “And why would he be here?”

  “What are you going to do?”

  He could see the terror in her eyes. “Grab the bag you packed and go to the back. If you hear anything,” he said, stepping toward her, taking her face in his hands and kissing her, “run.”

  She stared blankly at him. The door binged again.

  “Lana! Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” she shot back, startled from her fear of Desro’s voice. “Run.”

  He kissed her again. “I love you,” he said. “Now go get your pack.”

  As Lana made her way to their bedroom, Desro released the safety on his pistol and walked to the door. He took a deep breath.

  “Garus,” he said, opening the door. “What brings you here at this hour?”

  “You need to come with me, Venny. Now.”

  “Why?”

  Garus looked down to see the sidearm in Desro’s hand.

  “You know why, Venny.”

  “I can’t come with you, Garus.”

  “Don’t do this. Think of Lana.”

  “I am. That’s—”

  Lana’s scream echoed through the apartment. He turned toward the scream as Garus lunched toward him, knocking the pistol from Desro’s hand.

  Desro reacted quickly, landing a right hand against Garus’s jaw and wrapping his arm around Garus's neck. Garus countered, and Desro arched his body as his opponent’s fist slammed into his ribs. Off balance, his feet left the ground as Garus swept his feet and drove him into the floor.

  Dazed, Desro saw Garus swing his pistol toward him. He grabbed Garus’s gun hand and redirected the barrel from his face as Garus fired. Desro let out a grunt as the round tore into his shoulder.. Over Garus’s shoulder, Desro saw two Praetorians rush through the entrance.

  Rising up, he drove his forehead into Garus’s nose as he pulled the pistol from his opponent’s hand and fired a round into each Praetorian. Before he could turn the pistol on Garus, the Guardsman pushed Desro’s hand above his shoulder and shifted his body, driving his knee against Desro’s throat. Struggling for air, Desro looked up toward Garus.

  “Why did you betray your people?” growled Garus. “You brought this on yourself.”

  His head forced to the left by Garus’s knee, he saw the body of one of the Praetorians lying next to him.

  In the Praetorian’s combat vest was knife. He tried to grab the knife but couldn’t reach it.

  Desro let out groan of agony as Garus shoved a hand into his wounded shoulder. Distracted by the pain, Desro lost control of the pistol. Garus grabbed the pistol and swung it toward him as Desro grabbed the knife from the Praetorian’s vest.

  Desro felt Garus’s body go limp as he drove the knife into the side of Garus’s head.

  He pushed Garus’s body off him and picked up the pistol. “Lana!” he shouted as he headed toward the back of his house.

  Turning the corner, he saw a Praetorian and fired, killing him. “Lana!” he shouted again. “Where are you?”

  “She’s right here, traitor,” came a voice from his bedroom.

  Desro slowly moved across his living room, pivoting his body as he stepped into the bedroom. Lana stood in front of the bed, shaking. A Praetorian stood behind her with a pistol to her head.

  “You’re gonna drop your weapon, traitor. Or else—”

  Lana let out a scream as the Praetorian’s head snapped backwards and he crumpled to the floor.

  “Come on, Lana!” shouted Desro. “We need to go.”

  “What’s happening?” she sobbed, falling to the floor. “What—”

  “They must have found out,” he said, grabbing her arm and pulling her to feet. “We’ve got to get out of here before—”

  Desro’s body went limp as automatic gunfire erupted from within the bedroom. Falling to the floor, the first thing he saw was the fan above his bed slowly turning. He coughed, feeling the blood collecting in his mouth, and slowly turned his head to his left. Lying next to him was the mangled body of Lana.

  Using all of his strength, he slowly reached for her hand. “I’m sorry,” he grunted, his riddled body beginning to shake.

  “Well, the bitch is dead,” he heard at the entrance of the room and turned to see two Praetorians standing over him.

  “But the traitor’s still alive,” said the other one, pointing toward Desro. “We’ll get some coagulates into him and maybe he’ll make it so he can be shipped off to Capro.”

  “Praetorian,” mouthed Desro.

  “He’s trying to talk.”

  One of the Praetorians knelt down next to Desro.

  “Watch him,” warned the other.

  “He’s all fucked up,” replied the Praetorian. “Maybe he’s ready to talk.”

  Desro saw the Praetorian look away to answer his companion and mustered all of his strength to pull the pistol from the Praetorian’s belt. He fired into the Praetorian’s body and pulled him downward as he turned the pistol on the other Praetorian. His second shot sent a round through the throat of the Praetorian before he could return fire.

  The Praetorian on top of him struggled to get free, but Desro fired another round into his side before dropping his pistol and wrapping both arms around his opponent as he lay on Desro’s chest.

  “You have died for nothing,” grunted the Praetorian. “Your revolt will fail.”

  Desro felt a grenade on the Praetorian’s vest and grabbed it. With one arm around the wounded Praetorian’s neck, he extended his other arm and activated the grenade.

  “For the Republic,” he coughed, closing his eyes.

  ***

  Martin focused on the rhythmic pounding of her feet on the track. She needed to get out of her head and focus on her breathing and stride. As she felt her lungs finally begin to burn, a calm came over her; the planning was done, the mission was set, and there was nothing to be done now but let it happen.

  ***

  Sergeant Graves threw back a drink as she sat in a dark, smoky bar in the heart of the marketplace. “Give me another one,” she said to the bartender.

  “Rough mission coming up?” asked the bartender.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I know you’re a Guardsman,” replied the bartender. “Seen you in here before in uniform. And if you don’t mind me saying, you’re drinking like someone getting ready for a tough mission.”

  “You have no idea,” said Graves with a laugh.

  “Well, here’s to a successful mission,” said the bartender, pouring a drink for himself and holding it in the air. “This round’s on me.”

  “Thanks.”

  “For the Republic,” said the bartender.

  “For the fucking Republic,” said Graves as she finished the drink in one swallow.

  Graves slammed the glass onto the bar. As she did, she noticed a hand next to the glass and felt a presence over her shoulder. She turned to see a Praetorian officer and three constables.

  “Sergeant Graves?” asked the Praetorian.

  “Yeah,” she replied. “What do you want?”

  “I’ve been directed to bring you to the local Magistrate’s office.”

  “I don’t think it’s illegal to drink, Sir.”

  “This isn’t a request, Sergeant. You need to come with me.”

  “Fine, Lieutenant,” she replied. “But make it quick, I’ve got shit to do tomorrow.”

  “It will be quick, Sergeant. I’m sure of it.”

  Graves and the others exited the bar and began to make their way through the marketplace. Graves kept compliant but wary as she walked with the men. Eventually they turned down an abandoned street full of trash and debris. Graves noticed two of the constables slow their pace, falling behind her.

  “Guessin’ this is a shortcut,” said Graves.

  “Just follow me,” replied the Praetorian.

  She glanced toward one of the constables and saw his hand resting on his sidearm.

  “I think I need to stop for
a minute,” she said.

  The Praetorian stopped and turned toward her, his hand on the handle of his sword. She heard the unmistakable sound of a pistol being pulled from a holster behind her.

  She raised her hands. “Hey, hold on. What’s this—”

  Graves dropped low and swung her legs behind her, knocking one of the constables off his feet. Rolling forward and springing to her feet, she delivered a punch to the jaw of the second constable behind her as she slid behind him and drew the pistol from his holster.

  The third constable opened fire, and Graves felt the rounds impacting the body of the constable she was using as a shield as she returned fire, killing the constable. A burning sensation raced through her leg as the remaining constable opened fire. Graves pivoted and fired two rounds into the last constable’s chest.

  Graves stumbled as she felt a blow followed by pressure on her stomach. She looked away from the last constable to see the Praetorian’s face as he drove his sword through her human shield and into her abdomen. “Son of a—” She raised her pistol and fired point-blank into his face.

  Stumbling backwards, she looked down toward her stomach. “Fucking Praetorian,” she cursed, pulling up her shirt to examine the wound. The blade hadn’t punctured too deep but it was bleeding heavily. She turned toward the dead Praetorian. “Always fucking underestimating—”

  Graves felt a sharp pain in the small of her back as a bullet tore into her spine.

  Crumpling to the ground, she tried to move but couldn’t. “Damn it,” she groaned, unable to move her legs. She could feel the warmth of the blood on her back as it pooled under her body. Looking toward the location of the shot, she saw a tall, thin figure emerge from the shadows.

  “Who are you?” she huffed, starting to feel light-headed.

  “I’m someone who doesn’t underestimate a Guardsman, even though you’re a woman.”

  “Fuck off,” she cursed.

  “No need for bravado,” replied the man. “You’re gonna die. It just depends on how you want to die.”

  “I’ll never talk,” she replied. “You can torture me all you want.”

  “I already said I wouldn’t underestimate you, Guardsman. I know you’re not going to talk,” said the man as he knelt next to her. “But that won’t stop them from trying.”