"Thanks a whole bunch," Oz murmured in Owen's ear. Owen didn't pass that on.
Hazel shook her head. "Great. We're going to risk all our lives on a voice in Owen's head only he can hear. What do we do for an encore, make a sacrifice to the gods and read our fortune in its entrails?"
"Don't tempt me," said Giles. "Next, Jack Random and Ruby Journey will lead the gravity-sled attack on the Family Towers, as arranged with the underground. For the moment the Clans seem to have decided they're on no one's side but their own, but that won't last. The outlawing of David and the threatened mechanization of their planets hit them where they lived, but it won't take them long to realize that their financial and social well-being is irrevocably linked to the Empire as it is. A successful rebellion by the lower orders would be their worst nightmare come true. So, faced with the loss of their wealth and position, they'll finally have to commit their troops to defending the Empress, on the grounds that the crazy devil you know is still preferable to the devil with blood in his eyes and centuries of grudges to catch up on. At this stage, their troops might just be enough to turn things in the Empress's favor. It's therefore vital we keep them pinned down in their Towers, well away from the main action. We want them preoccupied with their own survival, rather than the Empress's.
"Random, we've been through the logistics of this with the underground. You know what to do. A flotilla of gravity sleds is waiting just outside the Parade of the Endless for you to lead them in. Apparently competition to man the sleds, and follow you into almost certain death for the majority, was very hard-fought. It would seem there are still a great many people who still believe in the professional rebel. But Random, while you're out there enjoying yourself raining death and destruction down on the heads of the Lords, remember we still need some of them left alive afterward to oversee the economy once the rebellion is over."
"I'll see what I can do," said Random calmly. "No promises."
Giles sighed, and shook his head. "Ruby Journey will, of course, accompany you. If only because no one else feels safe around her."
"You say the nicest things," said Ruby.
"If they're going, I'm going, too," said Alexander Storm firmly. "I haven't waited this long to miss out on the downfall of the Families. I've worked and fought all my life to see them go down in flames, and I'm damned if I'm being left behind. I might not be as young as some people, but I can still carry my weight."
"Oh, let him come," said Ruby. "He'll only sulk otherwise."
"Of course you're coming with us, Alex," Random said reassuringly. "I wouldn't dream of doing this without my old comrade at my side."
"You're using that word old again," said Storm ominously.
"All right, how about ancient?" said Ruby.
"Ruby…" said Random.
She sniffed, and went back to manicuring her nails with her dagger. She'd come to accept that Random had a blind spot where Storm was concerned. He still thought of his old friend as he used to be, when Storm was young and swift and daring and hell on wheels with a sword in his hand. He couldn't seem to accept that while he was young and strong again, Storm wasn't. Ruby decided to keep a watchful eye on Storm. She didn't care tuppence if he got himself killed, but she was damned if she'd let him drag Random down with them. In fact, it might be better all around if a stray bullet took Storm out right at the beginning. No one would notice where one stray shot came from, once the fighting started. Of course, she'd have to be careful. If Random ever found out… Ruby Journey frowned, thinking hard.
"Now that that's decided," said Giles loudly, bringing all eyes back to him, "we come to Young Jack Random. You will make your own landing dirtside, and team up with Finlay Campbell and Julian Skye. Your reputation will help to inspire their people, and throw a fright into the defending troops. Your mission is to take out and occupy the Security troops' main command center in the Parade of the Endless. They've still got comm channels open, so they're practically running the city's defenses single-handed. Once they're out of the loop, the Security forces will fall apart, and the Parade of the Endless will be ours for the taking. And once the city is ours, only the Empress herself stands between us and control of Golgotha. And from Golgotha, we will form the new Empire that rises from the ashes of the old."
"Rah rah rah," said Hazel. "Go, team, go. Save the inspirational pep talks, Giles. We all know why we're here. And can I just remind you that the rebellion is far from over. Right now, we're nothing more than a handful of terrorists with prices on our heads."
"Your point being?" Giles said icily.
"That we take things one step at a time. We can dream about the future once we've taken control of the present. I don't want any of us getting shot in the back because we were too busy dreaming of running the Empire instead of paying proper attention to what's going on around us."
"Don't worry, Hazel," said Young Jack calmly. "We will prevail. We are heroes. It is our destiny."
"And somebody shut him up before I puke," said Hazel. "I am not a hero, and never have been. Heroes tend to come to glorious, painful, and rather sudden ends, and have statues put up to them by the survivors. Personally, I would much rather be a survivor than a statue."
"Right," said Ruby. "We haven't talked about the loot yet, either. Can we talk about the loot?"
"Somebody sit on her," said Giles. "I'm getting a headache. And finally…"
"About time you got around to me," said Jenny Psycho, scowling fiercely. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten all about me."
"If only that was possible," said Giles. "You will orchestrate the use of espers on the planet's surface, and liaise among the various rebel factions. Like the two Randoms, the espers should follow you unquestioningly, just because of who you are. Try and keep your people under control. Espers can do a lot of damage when they're all pointed in the same direction, but the last thing we need are esper loose cannon going off all over the place."
"You presume too much," said Jenny Psycho. "You're not in charge here. In the end, the underground will win this war, and the underground will decide what replaces Lionstone's Empire. We've been preparing for this day for centuries. Espers, clones, the committed, and the faithful. We won't be brushed aside in the moment of our triumph by a bunch of newcomers, even if they are heroes and legends."
"We can argue about who gets the credit later," said Random, cutting in firmly on what threatened to be a long tirade. "First, we have to win this war. Let's make a move, people. It's time to go to work."
"Right," said Hazel.
Owen grinned about him. "See you all in Hell."
In the huge Court of the Imperial Palace, the Hell that Lionstone had made was growing worse. The surroundings continued to change from moment to moment, reflecting the Empress's darkening mood, and the underworld grew steadily more disturbing. The light was more scarlet than crimson now, absorbing all other colors, and the stench of sulfur was almost overpowering. There were other smells, too: piss and shit and blood, the smells of fear. Batwinged shapes floated lazily overhead, dark shadows too high up to be seen clearly, like cinders coughed up from the depths of the Pit. The maids-in-waiting clustered at the foot of the Iron Throne looked more like demons than ever. And the open Court itself was studded with row upon row of men and women impaled on stakes. There were so many of them Dram assumed they had to be holograms, but he didn't ask. He didn't want to know. Their screams had sounded real enough. He stood where he'd been told to stand, beside the Iron Throne, and did his best not to draw attention to himself.
Lionstone had grown too restless to stay sitting on the Throne, and now paced back and forth before it, shouting orders at people on the floating viewscreens. She was still in control of herself, but her rage grew with every reported rebel victory or Imperial setback. Lionstone had stopped seeing it as a political struggle for control of the Empire, and was now taking it as a series of personal attacks. Everyone was out to get her. No one could be trusted. Every Imperial failure was a betrayal of her. S
he gave orders in endless streams, sometimes contradicting herself. Dram didn't point this out to her. Lionstone's legendary self-control was finally fragmenting in the face of so many attacks on so many fronts.
Valentine Wolfe had been summoned to Court, and stood patiently before the Throne, poisoning the air just by being there and looking pleased as Punch about it. His long black curls had been freshly oiled, falling to his shoulders in artful disarray. His mascaraed eyes gleamed with fever-bright intensity from his bone-pale face, and his scarlet smile seemed wider than ever. He was calmly pulling the legs from some squealing black thing in his hands. Dram hoped it was an insect. Valentine Wolfe had come to Hell, and looked perfectly at home there.
Dram stood facing him, not because he chose to, but because Lionstone hadn't given him permission to move. He was still officially in charge of the Imperial Fleet, when Lionstone allowed him to be. He'd been doing his best, but his lack of real experience limited his insights and his options. Mostly, things were moving too fast for him to keep up. The Fleet was scattered all across the Empire, and the increasingly isolated ships were too busy fighting off Hadenmen and rebel mutineers to pay him much attention. Even if he'd had anything worthwhile to offer. Lionstone suddenly stopped her pacing and whirled on the two men.
"You! I should have you both executed! This is all your fault! I had things under control until you went mad on Virimonde! All you had to do was pacify one insignificant backwater planet, and you couldn't even do that for me. No, you were too busy running wild and killing anything that moved. Fools! Even a mechanized planet will need some people to work it! What use is there in being an Empress if you don't have peasants to rule?"
Both Dram and Valentine had been following Lionstone's specific instructions on Virimonde, but neither of them was stupid enough to remind her of that. Lionstone glared at them both, and the maids stirred menacingly, picking up on her mood. Dram could feel cold beads of sweat popping out on his forehead. He felt very much that he would have liked to turn and run, except that a maid would undoubtably have brought him down before he managed a dozen steps, and besides, there was nowhere he could run to. He had no friends anywhere after Virimonde. Not that he regretted one delightful moment of his time there. He'd never felt so alive. No, for better or worse, his destiny was tied to Lionstone's, the woman who had brought him into life from the cells of his dead original.
"I'm going to have to send you out to defend me, because you're all I've got," the Empress said finally, recovering some of her calm. "Valentine, you will take control of all the war machines currently on Golgotha. There aren't that many, but do what you can with them. Most of my beautiful engines of destruction are still stuck on Virimonde, and by the time I could get them back here the struggle would already be over. One way or the other. So don't waste any of them. Dram, I want you up on the surface, leading the troops in person. They'll follow the Warrior Prime. I'm giving control of the fleet over to Beckett. He was right, damn him. He has the experience. All I can do is hope the bastard stays loyal."
"I've done my best," Dram said cautiously. "But I'm sure you can trust Beckett to do his best, too."
"Very good," said Valentine. "Polite but supportive, without actually meaning anything. If we survive this, you may have a bright future as a courtier."
"I don't like leaving you here undefended," said Dram, ostentatiously ignoring the Wolfe.
"Investigator Razor and Lord SummerIsle are already waiting in my antechamber," said the Empress. "And there are… others on their way, too. Now get out of my sight, both of you. And don't fail me."
"I wouldn't dare," murmured Dram, and he and Valentine Wolfe bowed low and departed. They passed Razor and Kid Death coming in, but kept their eyes carefully averted. In her present state, Lionstone might well take a warning glance as evidence of treason. Dram and the Wolfe passed through the Court's great double doors, and out of Hell, walking as fast as they thought they could get away with.
Investigator Razor and Lord Kit SummerIsle approached the Iron Throne at a somewhat slower pace, stopped a safe distance from the maids-in-waiting, and bowed respectfully to the Empress. When they raised their heads, they were disturbed to find Lionstone smiling at them. It was truly said that the Empress was at her most dangerous when she was smiling. Her sense of humor was… not like other people's, and tended toward the vindictive. Razor and the SummerIsle stood their ground, faces carefully blank, and kept their hands well away from the weapons they'd been ordered to wear in her presence.
"Well, well," said Lionstone lightly. "My two favorite killers. How nice. Razor, I should be angry with you. I sent you to conquer Mistworld in my name, and you failed. But it wasn't really your fault. So many people failed me on that mission, but you stayed true. And Kid Death, my smiling assassin. You brought me the young Deathstalker's head, the only good thing to come out of that debacle. You always brought me the nicest presents, SummerIsle. I've got it here on a spike, somewhere.
"It is good to have you both back here with me. Good to have people around me I can depend on. Your duties here are simple, to protect me from any and all dangers. The odds against any of the rebels getting this far are vanishingly small, especially since I had the extra esp-blockers installed, but it seems I can no longer depend on all my people to do their duty. There are many layers of defense between my Palace and the surface, not all of them human, and I am not entirely helpless myself… but I'll feel better with you two watching over me. Any comments? Bearing in mind that they'd better be extremely constructive and to the point if you like your heads where they are."
"An honor to serve Your Majesty, as always," Razor said smoothly. "I take great pride in the confidence that you have invested in me. But I feel I should point out that with my sword to guard you, I really don't see the need for the SummerIsle's presence. I am a professional fighting man of long standing. The young Lord is, at best, a gifted amateur."
"An enthusiastic amateur with an exceptional track record has to be a better bet than a tired old man who's already been retired once," said Kit calmly. "Send this ancient obsolete away, Your Majesty. You don't need him while you've got me, and I don't want to be distracted trying to keep him alive as well as you, Your Highness."
"You don't have to like each other," said Lionstone. "Just do your job. And don't get too close to the maids. I haven't fed them recently." She smiled fondly at her two defenders. "Don't worry, my most loyal subjects. Once this nonsense is over, and order has been restored, as it will be, I promise you both all the killing you can handle. The executions will last all day and all night, and blood will flow in the streets like tides."
She turned away from them, ignoring their deep bows, and switched the floating viewscreens to the main news channels. The rebels were still shutting down military and Security comm channels as fast as new ones were set up, but they left the news channels alone. They wanted the people to see what was going on. All the floating screens showed a different news report, from all over Golgotha, but mainly from the Parade of the Endless, where the real fighting was. Urgent voices spilled out into the Court—loud, overlapping, almost hysterical. News of the rebellion was coming in from a hundred worlds at once, and the news stations were going crazy trying to keep up with it all. Lionstone fixed her attention on screen after screen, trying for an overview of the situation. She no longer trusted her own Security reports.
Scenes of bloodshed and fighting in the streets and buildings going up in flames filled the viewscreens, interrupted occasionally by news reporters and commentators. Their faces were flushed, and they talked too quickly. There'd never been a story like this, and with so much going on, most of it coming in live, there was little or no censorship anymore. Almost delirious with the truth, news editors threw caution to the winds and put everything on the air, irrespective of what it was or where it came from. Commentators were saying what they really meant for the first time in their lives, and couldn't seem to get enough of it. Neither could the audience, according t
o the latest viewing figures.
It seemed all those who weren't actually out in the streets fighting the revolution were glued to their viewscreens watching it. This is history in the making, said the news stations, and for once they weren't exaggerating. Lionstone came across a familiar face and stalked over to that screen to stand before it. Toby Shreck's fat sweating face stared back at her. There was chaos behind him, people running back and forth with weapons in their hands. Thick smoke drifted on the air from a gutted, fire-blackened building in the background. A troop of guards, their uniforms torn and bloody, ran past in full retreat, jostling the camera. Toby's face was smudged with smoke, and his clothes were a mess. He had to shout to be heard over the bedlam around him.
"This is Toby Shreck, for Imperial News, reporting from the center of the Parade of the Endless. Rebel forces are overrunning the whole city, driving demoralized and decimated Imperial forces before them. The slaughter is incredible. There are bodies everywhere. The wounded on both sides are being left to die in the streets because there's no more room in the hospitals. Civilians and non-combatants are running for their lives. There seems to be nowhere safe left for them to shelter. Imperial forces and the newly arrived war machines are treating everyone but themselves as the enemy. Security forces have been dragging civilians to the city squares and executing them, as a sign to others not to support the rebellion. If anything, this has had the opposite effect. Rebels are being seen as liberators. The Empress recently released a large number of the Grendel aliens onto the streets. No one knows how many civilians they killed. The body parts are too mixed up to make a count possible. Heroic espers from the underground took the aliens down eventually. This insane action on the part of the Empress would seem to indicate a growing desperation on her part, and a total disregard for the safety of her subjects."
Deathstalker War d-3 Page 47