Raising her own shield, she cautiously advanced towards the two Marines, sword drawn. Behind her, Zuber shouted, “They’re all yours Ma’am. Next time don’t take so long in firing.”
Cursing quietly under her breath, even though no-one could hear her, Christine moved warily in a wide circle, mirroring the movement made by her two opponents who’d split up and were approaching her from both sides. Christine knew that unless multiple attackers practised regularly, there was a chance they would get in each other’s way, but with these Marines, she didn’t think it was likely to happen. Unbidden, the words of her late Weapons Master came to mind.
“Girl, never fight at the same speed as your enemy and when facing multiple attackers do not fixate on one.”
She suddenly threw her left arm forward and released her shield, sending it flying at speed towards the face of the nearest attacker on her right. A split second later, as the distracted Marine batted it away with his sword, she rolled forward coming up slightly behind and to his right, at the same time sweeping her sword arm in an arc so the blade connected with the knee joint of her attacker. He fell forward, his suit registering Christine’s attack as disabling and locking it up to signify a kill. As she had planned, the inert body was now between herself and the other, now warier, Marine. He raised his sword in salute at the kill then rested it on the leading edge of his shield, pointing it towards her.
Christine’s heart was pounding in her ears, now more from excitement at her “kill” than physical exhaustion and she resisted the urge to leap forward and attack blindly, even though she wanted to do so. She had forgotten how seductive the adrenaline buzz of combat could be for someone like herself. They circled warily around the body for several seconds, before the amplified voice of Zuber blared out, telling them to get on with it as he didn’t have all day.
With that distraction, her attacker leapt forward, using the amplified power of his suits leg muscles to propel him over the body of his comrade. As he landed, Christine brought down an overhead blow which struck his hastily raised shield instead of the intended helmet. His own sword struck upwards, aiming towards where her groin would have been if she hadn’t brought down her own shield to block. Using his mass and upwards momentum, the Marine tried to throw her backwards and off balance, so he could land a blow with the edge of his shield. Sensing the move, she followed through with it and executed a graceful back flip, landing on both feet like a cat, shield and sword ready for any follow through.
The Marine ran forward again, swinging his sword towards her head, so Christine decided to finish this and stepped inside the blow, dropping both shield and sword whilst at the same time raising her rigid left arm inside his arc to block the sword swing. Her open right palm came up and struck the underside of his helmet hard, knocking the head backwards. Locking the Marines right arm with her left and putting pressure on the elbow joint, she used her right to bring his head forwards and down, at the same time bringing up her armoured right knee to impact the front of his helmet. Even with the suits padding, the two blows to his armoured head would have stunned most fighters and this Marine was no exception, falling to his knees before toppling backwards into the churned up earth.
“Bravo, Ma’am,” came the voice of Zuber from behind her. “I see you have lost none of your close quarter skills from sitting on your backside all day.”
Christine turned around sharply, fixing him with a stare, her helmet having already retracted back into the suit. Unabashed by her look, Zuber finished what he was saying.
“However, you missed the firing cues I gave you, so I recommend you brush up on our silent battle language as you seem a little rusty.” He tilted his head slightly to one side and returned her stare, totally at ease.
“Fair enough, Master Sergeant, I’ll take your advice. Back to barracks now?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” came the reply, “a shuttle will be picking us up once we reach open ground.”
With full control now returned to their suits, the Marines all started to get up from where they had been immobilised. Christine walked a few feet over to the last one she had taken out and extended a gauntleted hand, pulling the Marine to his feet. He retracted his visor, smiled at her and nodded his head in greeting.
“I’ll remember those moves, Ma’am. Well fought. My names Johannsson; nice to meet you finally, even if it was a little painful.”
Christine considered for a moment, then sent an instruction to Vimes before speaking to him and all the other Marines on a command channel.
“To thank you for letting me join you today, you and all the other Marines are invited to the Palace tomorrow evening as my guests. Feel free to say no if any of you have prior engagements.”
She looked at Zuber, “Will you be able to make it, Master Sergeant?”
While she was speaking, invitations were pinging up inside the Marines suits, along with ones for any partners and children. It was at times like this that Christine loved having Vimes around, knowing he would make all the arrangements for her, rescheduling appointments and issuing apologies without her having to worry about the details. A little bit of spontaneity once in a while alleviated the metronome-like regularity of her Royal existence.
Listening to what was being said as the two squads walked together towards the pick-up point, Christine could hear the Marines talking about the afternoon's training exercise. Using her command channel 0verrides, she couldn’t resist checking what was being said about her own performance and was pleasantly surprised, and not a little relieved too, that the comments were nearly all positive. She was looking forward to a quick shower and massage back at the Palace, but before that would share some time with the Marines at the debrief session. Her suit registered the shuttles approach long before it could be seen, as did the other Marines, so Zuber ordered everyone to pick up the pace and run the last half a mile to the clearing.
“Yes, I really will need that shower and massage later,” she thought, as Vimes confirmed in her mind all the arrangements for this evening had been made, along with a list of rescheduled appointments.
A military shuttle landed quietly in the small clearing ahead, framed by large mature trees. The sky above the clearing was clear blue and a welcome change from the subdued forest lighting beneath the large, dense green canopy of leaves and branches. Walking out into the sunlight, Christine squinted slightly until her eyes adjusted to the sunshine. After the forest, it felt good to have the hot sunshine on her face. On reaching the shuttle, doors along one side opened, showing the normal open plan arrangement. G-racks had already formed up in rows for the Marines and Christine took her place at the front, docking with the station and recharging her suit. It had picked up quite a bit of mud and leaf litter from the forest floor so later she would spend time cleaning it herself. Both Alex and her weapon master had drummed into her that Marines who wanted to live a long time always looked after their own equipment and didn’t leave it for others to do.
Within moments of the last Marine docking, the shuttle took off, taking only five minutes to travel the thirty miles to the nearby spaceport and barracks where Christine was greeted by none other than Parmenion himself. First off the shuttle, Parmenion saluted as she walked down the ramp and stepped forward to greet her, all formal now they were no longer in private.
“I watched your progress Majesty, as did many of the Bodyguard not on duty. If you try the close quarter gambit again you might find some of them will be ready for you,” he began. “You look as if you enjoyed yourself and worked a few things out of your system.”
“I did, Parmenion. Thank you for suggesting it although perhaps I should have guessed I’d have an audience.”
Christine found she meant it. Her mind was clearer than before coming out and although physically tired, she had enjoyed the change of pace and the excitement of combat. Mush of the tension from the previous day’s events was gone and her normal nature had reasserted itself.
“Maybe I should get Vimes to schedule these
into my diary, perhaps once a month?”
Parmenion raised his eyebrows in surprise but said nothing, waving at the Marines behind her, who had been waiting patiently for the two of them to finish talking, to disembark. They filed past on either side, heading towards the ground transport waiting to take them back to barracks and a debriefing.
Christine waited for Master Sergeant Zuber to leave the shuttle, as usual, the last one to leave. “Thank you, Master Sergeant, I will take your advice and brush up on my battle language. I appreciate your time today.”
Zuber looked her in the eyes for a second and for a moment, Christine thought she saw the merest flicker of a smile begin at the edges of his eyes and mouth, but before she could be sure they had gone, replaced with his normal, sour expression.
“Our pleasure Ma’am, anytime,” he replied, before saluting them both and hurrying over to the transport.
Christine walked with Parmenion towards his staff transport, a sleek, black smart-metal convertible, capable of extended flight at high speed should the situation warrant. His driver opened the doors for them and they followed the larger transport back to the barracks where Parmenion dropped Christine off outside the briefing hall, before attending to other, more pressing matters.
Looking around, Christine took in the sights and sounds of the military complex. Nearly nine times larger than her Palace building and immediate formal gardens, it lay to the north-west of the Palace, completely surrounded by dense forest that came to within a hundred yards of the perimeter. A flat landing area lay in the middle of a circle three miles in diameter, ringed by four, large, crescent-shaped buildings. Two of them, on opposite sides to each other, housed living quarters and barracks for the Marines and their families. To the south-east lay the administrative centre and to the north-east, training and hanger buildings.
The opening shots of the Succession Wars were fired when the original spaceport and barracks, along with nearly ten thousand loyal Marines, were wiped out from orbit by ships under the command of Marcus, the Emperors younger brother. The attack had taken place in the early hours of the morning, catching the majority of Marines in their quarters together with their families. Attacked without warning and given no option to protect their families or surrender, they had all died together in an instant. The site of the old barracks was now designated a war grave and a memorial to the fallen. Over many years, the forest had reclaimed much of the site and the impact craters filled with water, their edges softened by the passage of time and the elements. Once a year, on the attacks anniversary, a contingent of Marines would visit the site and pay their respects to fallen comrades, the peace and serenity of the place at stark contrast with the horror it had once borne witness to. This new facility had been built after Alexander had won back his throne and put down the rebellion.
In the hall, the debriefing was a ribald affair, with many of the Marines who’d taken part finding themselves the butt of several jokes relating to their performance in the field. Even Christine wasn’t immune, albeit the jokes at her expense were tactfully kept clean and respectful. Zuber highlighted several areas for improvement and ended with a reminder for everyone to remember that close combat didn’t just consist of sword and shield, using Christine’s unexpected unarmed attack to highlight his point. His final admonishment of, “Remember, all weapons are limited by themselves. They are useless until one learns how to apply them in any situation,” reminded Christine for the second time that day of her old Weapons Master, Hiro Katana.
Many years ago, when she first arrived at the Palace as his new bride, Alexander had appointed Hiro to train her in both old and modern combat techniques, just as he’d done for him. A squat, stocky man, he had ruthlessly pushed her for months, ensuring she woke up stiff and sore every morning until her body adapted itself to the training regime. Had she known beforehand about the months of tough training ahead, Christine might have questioned her decision to become Empress, but after the initial shock had worn off, she came to appreciate his martial methods and respect the disciplines he had instilled in her. Many years later, when told of his death, she discovered Hiro had bequeathed his favourite sword to her, instead of Alexander as had been expected. His final note to them both, written in the spidery hand of a man counting down his last few days of life, hoped they might remember him fondly. He went on to regret having to suffer the indignities of spending his final days in bed rather than dying on the battlefield and spoke of his pride in them both. The sword’s ownership was his final lesson to them both. “Take nothing for granted.”
The travel tube ride back to the Palace only took a few minutes and she was soon relaxing in a hot bath, the decision to forego a shower having been made when she started to stiffen up and found exiting the tube difficult. Her masseuse was on standby for when she finished and clothes were already laid out in readiness for the upcoming formal dinner with several visiting Earls coming to pay their respects after arriving on the planet earlier.
Letting the hot water ease away the ache from her muscles, Christine wondered if regular sessions with the Marines were such a good idea after all.
Scene 21, The day after.
Karen awoke with a start. Annoyed with herself for dropping off, she took a few seconds to take stock of where she was before standing up and stretching. Despite having spent the night in a chair, she had slept well but was stiff in the shoulder and neck from the awkward position. She moved to the foot of the bed and looked at the notes. His high temperature had dropped back a little around five o’clock in the morning; with blood pressure and oxygen levels remaining stable throughout the night…all encouraging signs.
Relieved Adam had made it through the night, instead of going to the canteen, Karen wandered off to find a vending machine for a cup of strong coffee and possibly a Twix or Snickers bar. Seeing a machine at the end of the corridor, she walked towards it, pulling out her mobile phone to check for messages. Noticing the battery was almost out, she ran through the dozen or so emails, noting they were all adverts before switching it off to conserve power. She bought a Twix while waiting for the coffee to dispense, then headed back to Intensive Care, using the antiseptic gel to clean her hands before entering.
Now fully awake, apart from the odd yawn, she walked back to Adam’s bedside and moved forward to look at his face. He still looked thin and drawn, more so than the previous night. Suddenly suspicious, she acted on instinct and looked closely at the mysterious metal armband that covered his left forearm. Yesterday there was hardly any room between it and his arm muscle, but now she could easily get two fingers inside. Moving to her right, she lifted up the blanket and looked at his legs. To her amazement, the undamaged muscles had wasted away by at least a third and as a result, many of the dressings had become loose. Carefully replacing the blanket, she walked over to the duty station and called over a nurse to check on what she’d seen.
Together they examined Adam, both worried about the noticeable loss of muscle mass. Karen washed her hands thoroughly in the small hand basin next to the bed, then pulled on a pair of blue disposable gloves. Walking over, she lifted up the dressing covering the wound on his shoulder and stood very still.
“Oh my God,” she said out loud, causing the nurse to come over and see what the matter was. “Look at that. Last night he had suffered abrasion and loss of tissue right down to the bone and now he has a huge scab.”
Together they looked at his other wounds and saw the same thing. Instead of large open wounds, there were scabs with tissue underneath and the smaller abrasions had healed completely. The compound fracture punctures on his legs were gone too, with just red looking scars to indicate where bone had broken through the skin. Trying not to shake, Karen asked the nurse to hold up his head while she unwound the bandage and removed the dressing covering the damage. Amazingly, that too had scabbed over, completely covering the skull. Where before had been a bloody hole, a red, raw-looking eyelid had formed. Karen and the nurse looked at each other, unwilling to accept
what they were both seeing, neither of them trusting themselves to comment sensibly. Karen leant closer and gently lifted the eyelid, careful not to damage anything or use undue pressure. A solid, milky white orb filled the socket instead of the expected raw mass of ruined muscle. Within it were the beginnings of a darker iris. Letting the eyelid gently close, she stepped away from the bed and took off the gloves, dropping them into a large pedal bin next to the sink.
“Is the same patient who came in last night? He is, isn’t he?” asked the nurse as she came over again.
Karen nodded, “That’s him alright. I’ll never forget that face. He saved my life. What’s happened here is nothing short of a miracle.”
Thinking quickly, Karen gave the nurse some instructions. “We don’t want any word of this getting out as the papers and television people will be all over the Hospital. We have to keep this quiet. Do you see?”
“Yes, of course I do. The last thing we need is for the ICU to be distracted, we still have seven other seriously ill patients to look after here.”
“We’ll continue keeping him here under observation. I’ll continue to stay and look after him for a while longer. The fewer that get to see what’s happened the better. Who knows, at this rate of recovery in a few hours he might be able to tell us himself what happened.”
The nurse considered for a few moments then nodded. “If you’re OK with that then fine, you can look after him. Just let me know if you have to go away so I can cover.”
Imperium: Betrayal: Book One in the Imperium Trilogy Page 17