Slavery was barely mentioned.
They didn’t spend much time there and were walking down the street toward a restaurant that was supposed to be highly regarded when Frankie said, “To the left.”
Michael had already spotted them, three fit young men in civilian clothes, walking slowly along, paying them no attention, except that to Michael’s enhanced senses, their attention was obvious. He sighed. “You ready?”
“Oh, yeah,” Frankie said.
The three men split up, one passing to their right, the other two staying to their left, and suddenly a knife was aimed at Michael’s abdomen and an expansible baton was swung at Frankie’s head. Frankie stepped inside, trapped her assailant’s arm against her raised knee and snapped his elbow. He screamed. Frankie rammed her palm into his nose, which gave a satisfying crunch and flattened. She swept his feet out and he fell heavily. Frankie kicked him once in the head and he lay still.
In the meantime, Michael moved back a centimeter or so and let the knife pass by. Often, unless fighters had trained together, they got in each other’s way. These two had obviously trained together. They spread out and came back in. Michael spun and connected with the heel of his foot to the first attacker’s head. The attacker spun with the blow and came back around. Michael dropped, rolled and kicked the second man in the groin, who clutched his gonads and screamed. Michael finished his roll, flipped back to his feet and slammed his knee into the first attacker’s abdomen. The guy tried to roll with the blow but he was off-balance. Michael swarmed up his back and put him in a headlock. The guy kicked once and tried to reach back with the knife. Michael twisted to the side, avoiding the blade, and squeezed. The guy kicked a few more times and then slumped unconscious.
The crowd stared at them. Michael and Frankie stared back. Sirens could be heard in the distance, getting louder. As one, the onlookers seemed to decide that they had better things to do. Within seconds, they were alone.
“Should we run?” Frankie said.
“Nope. Let’s see where this leads.”
It led to their arrest. Six angry looking cops searched them quickly but dispassionately. None of them bothered to ask questions. “Let’s go,” said the Sergeant in charge.
“I protest,” Michael said. “We were attacked.”
The first attacker’s knife was lying by his hand. The Sergeant nudged it with a toe. “We’ll let the judge figure it out. You’re coming with us.”
“Oh, well,” Michael said.
An ambulance drove up as Michael and Frankie were placed into the backs of separate vehicles. Ten minutes’ silent drive found them at the local police station. They were placed in separate cells, along with a few drunks and three other men arrested for minor assault. None of these bothered Michael or Frankie. Both of them sat down on cots, prepared to wait for as long as it might take.
A boring but uneventful hour later, they were released. The same Sergeant who had arrested them led them out of the building. He seemed annoyed. They were conducted into a car. The doors were locked, the car placed on auto and it drove slowly out of the station onto the street. They were the only two people in the vehicle.
No witnesses and an unknown destination. For a moment, Michael regretted not having made more of a fuss, then he shrugged, looked at Frankie, who gave him a weak smile, and sat back to wait.
Twenty minutes later, they entered the port. The car passed through a series of security gates and drove up to their ship. The car stopped. The doors opened. Both of them got out and watched as the car turned and drove away.
Rosanna, Curly, Marissa and Gloriosa were playing poker as they walked into the lounge. “Did you have fun?” Curly asked.
“Shut up,” Michael said.
“Guess not,” Curly said, and went back to his game.
Grieg Larsen called a few minutes later. His face was regretful but resolute. “Captain, considering the events of the past few days, my colleagues in the government and I have decided that it would be best if you and your crew were to resume your journey.” He gave a rueful smile. “Immediately. Your ship has been cleared for takeoff.”
“A pity,” Michael said. “Just as we were beginning to enjoy our stay in your lovely and hospitable city.”
Larsen grinned. It was not at all a pleasant grin, Michael thought. “Have a nice trip,” Larsen said, and the screen went blank.
Chapter 30
The big ship floated upward on its AG and oriented its bow toward the edges of the system. As they reached the upper atmosphere, the jets kicked in. Michael stared at the screens. Anson and Frankie sat down by his side, waiting. Dunbar shrank behind them.
“There,” Michael said. He pointed. At the limit of their instruments’ resolution, three tiny dots could be seen, moving slowly toward them from three different directions. As they watched, the dots resolved into three groupings of five ships each.
“I wish I could say ‘Battle Stations’ or something.” It would give at least the illusion of doing…something, but the ship’s defenses were entirely automated. Nothing for the soft little humans inside to do but wait and hope that they were alive at the end of it.
Frankie sighed. Anson shook his head. “We figured they would do this.”
“Couldn’t we be pleasantly surprised, just this once?”
“Think they’ll negotiate?” Curly asked.
“No point in wondering,” Michael said. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
Ten minutes later, the ship’s brain announced, “The approaching fleet is attempting to hail us.”
“Put it onscreen.”
“…surrender and you will not be harmed.” The speaker was a large, slightly corpulent man with a round face and black eyes. He wore an Admiral’s uniform.
“Define, ‘not be harmed,’” Michael said.
The Admiral gave them a wide, satisfied smile, his eyes twinkling, evidently feeling in complete command of the situation. “Your ship is an advanced design, with obvious value. We would hate to have to destroy it.”
Michael sniffed. “It goes without saying that you would hate to have to destroy a ship with an advanced design and obvious value. Let’s talk about myself and my crew.”
“Ah, well.” For a moment, the Admiral looked almost regretful. “You also have value. One way or the other, you will never be allowed to leave the Imperium, but, as I said, you will not be harmed.”
“Slavery?”
The Admiral shrugged. “There isn’t much choice, now is there?”
Michael frowned at the screen. “You could offer us a better deal. A valuable ship, military personnel acquainted with the strategy and tactics of an Empire that, frankly, is much larger and more technologically advanced than your own? We could be useful.”
“You will be useful.” The Admiral laughed softly. “We were first approached by a trade ship of your Empire nearly fifty years ago. Naturally, we did not let it leave. We retrieved all the information that the crew had regarding your Empire and then we sent our own ships to see the situation for ourselves. You have military capability but your bureaucracy and your silly ideas regarding ‘human rights’ make you vulnerable. We have been taking advantage of that vulnerability for all the years since then. We are stronger than we were and you are weaker. So…” The Admiral smiled again. “Surrender, and you’ll live. Fight us, and you’ll die. Those are your only choices.”
“How much time do we have?” Michael said.
The Admiral laughed. “Ten seconds. Decide.”
Michael frowned. “Hmm, let’s see.” His eyes lit up. “I know!” He pressed a button on his console. Fifty missiles shot out of their tubes and streaked across space to the Imperium fleet. Forty-nine missiles flashed against enemy screens. Only one got through. A single Imperium ship disappeared in a ball of expanding gas. “Eat shit and die,” Michael said.
The Admiral sighed. He gave Michael a reproving frown and said. “Fire at will.”
Five hundred missiles came streaking from the enemy
fleet. “This is gonna really hurt,” Michael said.
Frankie laid a hand over Michael’s and patted it. “It will all be over soon.”
Seventy missiles flamed out against the ship’s screens before they flared and went down. The next salvo of missiles exploded against bare metal. The ship disappeared, reduced in an instant into microscopic shards, expanding like a glowing cloud into space.
At the same time, on the world far below, Rachel Porter’s eyes lit up. “Finally,” she muttered.
“What was that?” Addison Steele asked.
Rachel, naked, and in the process of massaging Addison Steele’s equally naked back, said, “I don’t like you. I never liked you.”
Addison Steele turned his head and looked at her with disbelief. “You know that you’ll be punished for that.”
She stood up. “Somehow, I don’t think so.”
He turned over. “Rachel, not one more word.” He smiled. “And come here.” She didn’t move. “Now.”
Suddenly, Rachel looked uncertain. She shook her head. “Now,” he said. “You know you can’t disobey me.”
Rachel moaned. Her hands came up to the sides of her head and she squeezed her eyes shut.
Addison Steele smiled in satisfaction. “I’ve been too lenient with you. Now, Rachel.”
She took a step forward. Her body slumped, defeated.
“Get on top,” he said. “You know how I like it.”
Rachel moved her right hand behind her back and flexed her fingers, just the right way. Five composite blades, very slim and very sharp, slid from under her nails. She knelt at his side. “Let me see,” she whispered. “What to do first?”
“I’m waiting, Rachel,” he said. “Don’t make me wait.”
“Okay,” she said. She leaned over, caressed his chest with the fingers of her left hand and sliced across his abdomen with her right.
His eyes opened in shock. He tried to scream but suddenly, Rachel’s left hand, stronger than Addison Steele could have ever believed possible, was clutching him by the neck. “Don’t move and don’t talk.” Rachel said. “Don’t say another word, or I’ll kill you.” She pursed her lips, made a clucking sound and frowned at the blood oozing from Addison Steele’s wounds. “Messy,” she said, “but don’t worry. I didn’t cut too deeply. You’ll heal. I just wanted to give you a little something to remember me by.” She leaned over and whispered into his ear. “Watch.”
She closed her eyes, concentrating, then opened them and smiled, her eyes dancing in delight. A few seconds later, she slumped across Addison Steele’s chest. Her hand fell from his throat. He felt something liquid and cool flowing over his naked body. Rachel’s skin bubbled and then split. She gave one small laugh and as he looked on in horror, the body that Rachel Porter was wearing dissolved into a spreading pool of viscous, bright red goo.
Addison Steele screamed.
Chapter 31
Michael groaned and sat up suddenly. “God, what a headache.”
The servomechs ignored him as they removed the induction helmet from his skull. “Give it a minute,” Romulus’ voice said.
He slumped, dizzy, hung his head down between his knees, fighting nausea, and decided that this position wasn’t much better. “Oh, God,” he moaned.
One of the mechs handed him a straw and a glass containing a sweet, brown liquid with bubbles rising from the top. “Sip it,” Romulus said. “It will help settle your stomach.”
On either side, the rest of his crew, the Illyrians, the marines and the seven erstwhile slaves were all awakening, none of them pleasantly. None threw up but all of them looked as if they wanted to.
Finally, Anson sighed. He straightened his back, winced and slowly shook his head. “Quite an experience,” he said.
“Weird, being in two places at once.” Michael smiled weakly. “I knew those off the rack bodies would come in handy.”
Joanna Granger grimaced. “The guy who bought me was a horny bastard. I put the body on auto and reduced the interface to spectator mode whenever he wanted to have sex. The shit head.”
“What did you expect,” Rachel Porter asked, “after the way you egged him on? You practically begged the guy to rape you.”
“It was an act! I was playing a part!”
“So, you were watching. Did you learn anything?”
“Fuck you!”
Rachel Porter snickered. “Same with my guy, actually. I really loved dissolving all over him. He deserved it.”
Michael rolled his eyes and immediately wished that he hadn’t. He took a long sip of his drink and reluctantly conceded that it did help. He sighed and looked over at Frankie. “You alright?”
Frankie had a strange, lop-sided smile on her face. “Just happy to be alive. Dying isn’t fun, even if it isn’t for real.”
“Yeah.” Michael pulled himself to his feet. “Let’s survey the damage.
The London sat silent, hidden by its cloaking screens, just above the atmosphere. A few bits of debris were still spreading from the center of the conflagration. The Imperium fleet had already returned to base, no doubt to congratulate themselves on ending a threat to their Empire and to celebrate a job well done.
Anson stared moodily at the screen. “I liked that ship,” he said.
Michael grunted. This was a sore point with Anson. He had trouble letting it go. “It served its purpose,” Michael said. Truth to tell, Michael shared Anson’s feelings. A necessary sacrifice, he told himself but Manta class, First Empire destroyers were not easy to come by in this day and age.
“And how many other ships do you have?” Anson had asked this question before.
“None of your business,” Michael said.
Anson looked pissed off but he compressed his lips in a thin line and shut his mouth. Good, Michael thought. He was tired of hearing it.
“Where to now,” Curly asked.
“First,” Michael said, “we go back to Gallilee and settle up with Jeremiah Phelps. Then, Concordia.”
“What’s there?” Rosanna asked.
“The Cognoscenti. I have some questions for them.”
They digested this in silence for a few moments, then Gloriosa nodded. “Good,” she said.
Richard Norlin was enjoying almost everything about this assignment, but dealing with Arcturus could be trying. Arcturus seemed not to take him seriously. Perhaps it was the outfit. Lady Egidia liked her guards to dress the part. Richard wore a snap brim hat, tight, black pants and a black shirt with the silver insignia of House Colbert on the left and fake military ribbons in arcane curlicues under the pocket. He had largely gotten over feeling ridiculous at being seen in public but he couldn’t escape the conviction that Arcturus was secretly laughing at him.
Arcturus, for his part, seemed to be enjoying the moment. And why not? The sun was shining, the breeze was cool, the water down below in the harbor was sparkling and blue, with foaming, white waves skittering across the top: a perfect day in the heart of the Empire.
“More beer?” Arcturus asked.
Richard held out his glass. “Thank you.”
The place didn’t have a name and was difficult to find. It started with a plain door in a back alley and led up to a balcony overlooking the sea. It wasn’t exactly public, more of a not quite secret club for Naval Intelligence, though if a private citizen somehow stumbled on the place and asked for a table, he would be served without comment. This had never happened, but like almost every event in the realm of possibility, Naval Intelligence had a plan to deal with it.
About half the tables were filled, mostly men but a few women as well, all of whom had taken note of Richard and then ostentatiously ignored him. Jerks.
Sort of an honor to be invited, though. Michael and Henrik Anson had met Arcturus here at least once. Arcturus liked to conduct business over lunch while enjoying the view. The food was excellent and the view spectacular.
“Linda Prescott Jones is taking a trip,” Arcturus said.
Richard paused, beer
halfway to his mouth. “Oh?”
“Interesting timing, wouldn’t you say?”
“Gets her out of the firing line.”
“True. She was never much of a traveler before. Not like her mother. Suddenly, she is.”
“Times change. People grow and develop new hobbies.”
Arcturus grunted. “We still haven’t found Timothy Rice. He’s probably as dead as all the rest but we’ll keep looking.” He split a crawfish tail out of its shell, dipped it in hot sauce and popped it into his mouth.
“Why am I here, anyway?” Richard asked.
“You have an interesting team.” Arcturus wiped his hands on a napkin and took a long swallow of his beer. “Michael Glover is an interesting fellow. Nobody knows where he comes from, or anything about him, really. He has an interesting ship and he’s able to do interesting things. I would love to know his story.”
“Are you asking me to spy on my boss?”
“Would you?”
“No.”
“Good. You’d be no use to me if you couldn’t be trusted.”
Richard gave Arcturus’ blandly smiling face a brooding look. “I don’t mean to be insulting but being of use to you is not one of my goals.”
“Fair enough, but I think you should ask yourself what you’re doing and where you’re going. I know your history. You have a future back home that almost any man would envy but you don’t seem to care.”
“Someday, I’ll be the Duke of Norlin,” Richard said. “The only problem is, I don’t want to be the Duke of Norlin.”
“So what do you want?”
Richard winced. Far below, he could see people walking on the golden sand and swimming in the deep blue water. Heat waves rippled off white walkways and blue painted arches. The place was like a dream. “I know it will seem trivial to all you movers-and-shakers, but all I want to do is make music.”
The Empire of Ruin Page 17