Neeson the banker and Robbins the landlord fought side by side, swords flashing as old skills came back to them. Stacey the lawyer had an elegant rapier, and Connelly and McGowan of the docks cut a bloody path through the enemy with an ax in each hand. They all fought bravely and well, and were surprisingly effective for middle-aged men who'd grown soft in comfortable positions.
"Damn, this feels good," Neeson said to Robbins during a lull in the fighting. "Takes me back to our young days, when we were going to change the world and overthrow the Empire. And all before lunch."
Robbins laughed. "Happy days. Simpler days, anyway. I was getting bored with being a businessman anyway."
The Blackthorn Inn was a blazing wreck, its upper floor an inferno, its roof gone, swept away by the fire and smoke belching up into the night sky. Three gravity barges hovered overhead, disrupter beams hammering down. Flames licked along the outer walls, and great cracks appeared in the brickwork. Inside, there was smoke and chaos and panic. Jenny Psycho stood in the center of the room, arms outstretched like a crucifix, her mental energies the only thing holding off the deadly disrupter beams. Blood trickled steadily from her nose and ears and mouth. Under the blood her face was deathly pale and her wild eyes were fixed on something far away. She was dying, and everyone knew it. She was the only thing protecting the Blackthorn, and it was killing her inch by inch.
Donald Royal had organized people into groups with buckets of water and blankets, ready to stamp out any fires that started in the barroom. The old man had been revitalized by the emergency, and was bustling around like a man half his age. Councillor McVey had gathered Chance's children into a small group, away from the walls. Madelaine Skye, Royal's partner, stood in the doorway with a disrupter in her hand. Empire troops had already blown the door off its hinges, and tried throwing grenades through the gap. Skye had seen the first one, thrown it straight back out, and taken up her position by the door to discourage anyone else with the same idea. Outside, on the other side of the street, a large group of Imperial marines were patiently watching the doorway, ready to deal with anyone who came out of it. No one was interested in taking any prisoners from the Blackthorn.
Behind the bar, Cyder was getting very drunk. Her tavern was a wreck, she was trapped in a burning building, and Cat was nowhere to be seen. She hoped he was somewhere safe, but doubted it. He should have been back long ago. Probably got involved in the fighting. She'd told him and told him, never get involved… She poured herself another drink.
"Don't you think you've had enough?" said Donald Royal.
"Hell no," said Cyder. "I can still think."
"If we end up having to make a run for it, you'll be no use drunk."
"Make a run for it? Where would we go? The inn's surrounded by men with guns. The moment we leave this place we're dead. Of course, if we stay, we're dead, too. If the flames don't get us, the smoke will. Or that Psycho woman will finally fall apart and the gravity barges will blow the whole place into kindling. Have I missed anything?"
"There's always the chance something will happen," said Royal. "Some lucky break, or opportunity. We have to be ready to grab it."
Cyder shook her head. "It's too late, Donald. We're not going anywhere." She broke off, and frowned. "Can you hear someone singing?"
And that was when one wall of the tavern suddenly collapsed. The bricks just fell apart, revealing the outside street and a hell of a lot of dead troopers. Flames swept toward the gap, but were somehow thwarted and held back by some unseen force. And there, right outside, singing, were Investigator Topaz and the woman who used to be known as Typhoid Mary. The two most powerful Sirens in the Empire, or out of it.
"Told you so," said Donald to Cyder, grinning. "All right, people; we are leaving! Grab anything you absolutely have to have, and head for the hole in the wall. Madelaine, help me with Jenny Psycho. Cyder, put that bottle down and run or I'll kick your ass up around your ears."
There were flames everywhere now. The air itself was hot enough to burn. Sudden stabs of energy smashed down through the ceiling as Jenny's shield splintered. Donald grabbed her by the arm and hustled her toward the hole in the wall. Blood was spilling thickly down her face now, and spraying from her mouth in time to her agonized breathing. Her skin was an unhealthy blue-white, and her hand in Royal's was cold and clammy. She looked like death warmed up and allowed to congeal, but somehow she was still maintaining her psionic shield, protecting the rebels as they fled from the burning inn. Her legs were stiff and unsteady, and Donald kept her moving by brute force, for she was beyond cooperating with him or anyone else now, even to save her own life. Her whole world had shrunk down to the simple need to maintain her shield, even though it was killing her. Donald got her to the hole in the wall, and all but threw her out into the cold night beyond. He clambered out after her, his chest heaving as he tried to cough up the smoke that had got into his lungs. He felt old and tired and his head was swimming, but he wouldn't let himself fall. Not yet.
McVey helped Chance get his charges on their feet again, and between them they herded the half-mad children over to the hole in the wall and out into the street beyond. Chance kept counting them over and over, to make sure he hadn't left any behind. All the children were screaming or crying or just shuddering helplessly. Legion's never-ending howl rasping through their minds like burning barbed wire. McVey stayed by the hole, counting heads as the last of the rebel HQ's people filed past him. He came up one short. He forced himself as close to the hole as he could, and stared through the flames into the blazing barroom. The dwarf Iain Castle was still sitting beside Lois Barren's body, crushed under the fallen timber. He was holding her dead hand in his, and rocking slowly back and forth. McVey yelled his name, and Castle looked around almost absently.
"Iain, get out of there! Leave her! There's nothing you can do!" McVey had to yell himself hoarse to make himself heard above the roar of the flames and the thundering engines of the gravity barges hovering overhead.
"I won't leave her!" Castle shouted back. "I won't leave her here!"
"She's already gone! And if you don't get out of there now, you'll be going with her!" McVey made himself stay by the hole, though the sheer heat was raising blisters on his unprotected hands and face. "Iain, please! I don't want to lose you, too!"
Castle nodded slowly, got to his feet, and stumbled across the smoke-filled room to the hole in the wall. He plowed straight through the fiery sides as though he didn't notice them, and lurched out into the street with flames rising from his clothes. McVey whipped off his cloak and wrapped Castle up in it, smothering the flames. Beside him, Jenny Psycho sat down suddenly, as though all the strength had just gone out of her. Her mouth was slack, and her eyes saw nothing. Not far away, Typhoid Mary and Investigator Topaz were still singing together, their voices and esp combining to create a shield over and around the rebels. Their voices rose and fell in studied harmonies, and a psistorm of energies crackled through the streets at their command, keeping the Empire forces at bay.
Donald Royal looked around suddenly, as he realized his partner hadn't come out with him. People were milling back and forth all around him, but there was no sign anywhere of Madelaine Skye. He pushed his way through the crowd and grabbed McVey by the arm. "Where's Madelaine? Didn't she come out with you?"
"I didn't see her! I had my own problems!" McVey pulled his arm away, and Donald was left staring at the burning Blackthorn Inn. He moved toward the hole in the wall, screwing up his face against the blazing heat. The barroom was now a sea of flames, and thick black smoke boiled out of the hole. Donald's heart contracted painfully as he realized she must still be in there. Probably lost and disoriented in the smoke. He called her name again and again, but there was no answer. Donald's mouth firmed. He knew what he had to do. He pulled his cloak up to protect his face, and moved toward the hole in the wall.
But he stopped after only a few steps. The heat was just too much for him. He tried again and again, drawing on all his coura
ge and resolution to force him past the flames, but his old body cringed back from the awful heat despite him, and would not go forward. Flames licked up around his cloak as the material caught fire, and sudden hands pulled him back, slapping at his shoulders to put out the flames. Donald fought the hands savagely.
"Let me go, dammit! Madelaine's still in there!"
"If she is, then she'd dead," said Gideon Steel, holding him firmly.
Donald stopped struggling. "If she's dead, then I want to die, too. She was my daughter, in every way that mattered. She's all I had left."
"You can't die here," said Steel. "You're needed. You're a Councillor, an old and respected warrior whose name will still rally people. Don't you dare give up on me now. You've been telling us all what a hero you used to be for years. Now prove it, dammit! Prove it in a way that matters. You can't get back in there. No one could."
"I could have, once," said Donald Royal. "When I was a hero. When I was young."
And then one of the windows shattered as a body came hurtling through it, in a blazing mass of flames. It hit the cobbled street rolling, and stood up, throwing aside a blazing cloak. Madelaine Skye beat at her smoldering clothes with her hands, blackened and scorched but still very much alive. Donald lurched forward to take her in his arms, and she held him tightly to her.
"I got turned around in the fire and the smoke," she said breathlessly. "Didn't know where the hell I was, let alone the hole. Then I heard you calling me. You got me out, Donald. I owe you one."
"No you don't," said Donald. "You're family."
Cyder stood off by herself, a bottle of the good brandy still in her hand, and watched the Blackthorn burn. It had been her home and her safe haven and the repository of her dreams, but her face remained calm and cold. Her eyes were dry and her mouth was firm. Cyder didn't believe in being beaten.
"My lovely tavern," she said, finally. "You were going to make me rich, rich, rich."
Jenny Psycho collapsed. Her strength had finally run out. Determination and willpower could carry her no farther, and her mind shut down. The psionic shield disappeared, and the disrupter beams from the hovering gravity barges slammed down into the tavern like God driving nails. The building burst apart, the ceiling crashing down as the walls collapsed, and the flames roared up in triumph. Mary and Topaz's song protected the small crowd from the fire and the flying debris. In seconds there was nothing left of the Blackthorn but a blackened frame in an inferno of flames. Steel knelt down beside Jenny, checked for a pulse, and raised an eyebrow.
"Amazing. She's still with us. Chance, get her out of here. Take her and your children to the esper union hall. They'll look after you. And they'll save Jenny Psycho if anyone can. Crazy woman. Bravest damned thing I ever saw." He got to his feet and raised his voice above the din. "All right, everybody scatter! You all know the secondary meeting place; be there in an hour. No excuses. Now move it!"
And so they all went their separate ways, helping those who needed it, carrying a few where necessary. They went in twos and threes, following the routes the Council had worked out earlier, just in case. They disappeared into the dark maze of narrow streets and alleyways, confident no Empire forces could follow them and not be hopelessly lost in moments. There was no talk of surrender. They were not broken, not beaten. And they had always known this was a fight to the death.
Soon they were all gone, apart from Typhoid Mary and Investigator Topaz. Their song still crackled around them, drowning out Legion's howl, keeping the troops at bay and covering their friends' escape. They were the two most powerful Sirens the Empire had ever produced, and they would not yield. And then suddenly, the pressure eased. The gravity barges moved on, their work done, and the troops fell back. Topaz and Mary stopped singing, conserving their strength. The world around them was still a chaos of flames and screams and battle cries, the thunder of gravity engines and the roar of collapsing buildings, but their particular part of the world seemed strangely still and quiet. As though some new force had entered the scene. Topaz and Mary looked at each other. Behind them, someone applauded slowly. They both looked round sharply, to find a tall dark man in an Investigator's cloak studying them calmly from the other side of the street. Topaz frowned. She should have heard him approach, even in all this noise and chaos. She should have known he was there. His sword and gun were still sheathed on his hips, but in one hand he held a length of steel chain, on the other end of which crouched a cowering naked man. He was painfully thin and smeared with filth, and his bare skin clearly showed the scars and marks of many beatings. The left side of his skull had been surgically cut away, to reveal the brain beneath, protected only by a clear piece of steelglass. Various plugs and jacks studded the brain tissues, and silver wires gleamed in the grey meat.
"Handsome fellow, isn't he?" said the dark man. "He belongs to me. Investigator Razor, at your service. I've been sent to bring you back into the fold of Empire. Teach you to sing the right songs again. Spare me your protestations, please. They don't matter. You have no say in things anymore. This unpleasant wretch at my side has no name anymore, only a function. He's a living esp-blocker. One of the Lord High Dram's special projects, I believe. Being alive, and capable of following orders, he's much more powerful and versatile than the usual brain in a box esp-blocker. He's strong enough to function even under Legion's influence, and subtle enough that you didn't even notice our approach. I'm afraid you'll find your songs have quite deserted you now, ladies. So put aside your petty complaints and come with me. Your life in this place is over. You belong to the Empire again."
Topaz drew her sword. "I'd rather die."
Razor drew his sword. "That can be arranged. I get a bonus if I bring you both back alive, but money's never been that important to me. They'll settle for one live Siren and one dead traitor, if need be. And I always wanted to know which of us is better." He dropped the length of chain he was holding, but the living esp-blocker stayed where he was. He would not move without orders.
Typhoid Mary backed away from the Investigator, shaking her head.
"I can't help you, Topaz. I'm sorry. I won't kill again. Not for any reason."
"That's all right," said Topaz, advancing on Razor. "Just keep well back. You don't want to get any of his blood on you."
And then Topaz and Razor surged forward and slammed together, sparks flying in the mists and smoke as their swords clashed. They stamped and lunged, swinging their swords with almost inhuman strength and speed, two Investigators trained to the peak of perfection. They circled around each other, hammering home blows that would have swept away a lesser fighter's defenses, probing for each other's weaknesses. They were strong and fast and quite magnificent, and neither of them would yield an inch.
But in the end Razor was much the older of the two, and he was not fueled by the raw hatred and need for revenge that burned so fiercely in Topaz's veins. Slowly, remorselessly, foot by foot she drove him back, forcing him on the defensive, and Razor knew that he was very near to death. His pride kept him in the fight longer than he should have, but the pain and blood of his first few wounds brought him to his senses again. He forced the last of his energy into a flurry of blows that turned Topaz around till her back was to Mary, and then he raised his voice in a commanding shout.
"Mary! Code Delta Three! Kill Topaz!"
Mary swayed sickly as the preprogrammed control words hit her. The esper union had done their best to remove all traces of the Empire's conditioning, but some things had been buried so deeply that only another mind tech could have found them. Mary screamed as the mind techs' programming took hold again, sweeping aside her mind and wishes in favor of the old conditioned Typhoid Mary. Her face went slack, and someone else peered out of her eyes. And even as Topaz realized what was happening. Typhoid Mary stepped forward and hit her across the back of the neck with trained, professional force. Topaz fell to her knees, her thoughts darkening, her sword slipping from nerveless fingers. Mary leaned over and hit her again, and Topaz fe
ll forward to lie still in the churned-up snow.
Razor stood for a moment, getting his breathing back under control, and then he put away his sword and leaned over Topaz. He checked the pulse in her neck, and frowned. He looked up at Mary.
"She's still alive. I told you to kill her."
"I can't," said Mary. "Not anymore."
"Obey me," said Razor, straightening up to glare at her. "Kill Investigator Topaz." Mary trembled violently, but made no move toward Topaz. Two absolutes warred in her mind, neither side giving in. Razor sighed, and shook his head. "Don't worry, Mary. They'll break you again. And then you'll kill anyone we want you to, and smile while you do it. As for Topaz, we'll just say the bitch died in the fight."
He put his hand to his sword, and that was when the steel ball from Cat's slingshot hit him right between the eyes. Razor's head snapped back, his eyes rolling up, and he fell backwards to lie twitching in the snow. Cat dropped silently down out of the darkness and hurried over to Topaz's side. He shook her shoulder urgently, but she didn't respond. Cat scowled unhappily. It was obvious she needed more help than he could give her. Someone tugged at his sleeve, and Cat spun round to find the naked man crouching at his side.
"Please," said the living esp-blocker. "Please. Kill me. Don't let me live like this."
Cat drew his knife and thrust it into the man's heart. The naked man jerked, and tried to smile at Cat. Blood welled from his mouth. Cat pulled the knife free, and the esp-blocker fell forward into the snow and lay still. Cat wiped his knife clean on his trouser leg and put it away. It was getting easier and easier for him to kill. He didn't think he liked that—what this war was doing to him. He pushed the thought aside for another time, and concentrated on the business at hand. Razor was already stirring. Cat thought about killing him, too, but decided against getting that close to Razor. The man was an Investigator, after all. He looked from Topaz to Mary and back again. He couldn't save both of them. And whilst Topaz wasn't exactly his friend, he trusted her a damned sight more than Typhoid Mary. She'd tried to kill him once, when she first came to Mistport, and with her conditioning reawakened, there was no telling what she might do. And so with only the smallest of regrets. Cat turned his back on Mary, hoisted Topaz over his shoulder, and disappeared back into the concealing shadows.
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