* * *
CAPITULUM, JEWEL. DECEMBER 11TH, 1001.
The Yugalyth Prime squatted in the chamber and looked over her spawn. It would never move from this place, not unless assisted by many of the mobile members of its kind. Its only job now was to grow those mobile forms. Now over forty of them clustered into the chamber, not to move the Prime, but to receive their final mission instructions.
It does not matter that they die, thought the Prime, who now had another dozen extrusions from its mass that were growing into human form beings. It looked at the mobile units, all of which were different, some men, some women, all as average and ordinary looking as could be. These were not configured to try and get through any high security areas. The one who had been configured that way had left days ago. These were made to strike, strike hard, and do as much damage as possible.
And now all we are waiting on is the special equipment. That was not something it could provide. The contacts it had with the Knockermen network in the capital, which did not include any of those aliens for obvious reasons, and through them the underworld, was supposed to give them what they needed. If they didn’t come through there were still targets his minions could strike, but none like the one that was presenting itself the next day.
“You have your orders,” he told the lesser Yugalyth through his speaking orifice, while his eating mouth continued to feed. “After you receive your equipment, you will go to your rallying points and await the hour.”
The Yugalyth thought for a moment about why it was doing this, sending so many of its own kind to their deaths, even while it risked its own existence doing so. The Yugalyth had not always been gifted with all of the attributes they now enjoyed, though they had always been a very plastic race. The Ancients had done this to them, and made them the intelligence operatives of their Empire. Then those same Ancients had played with time and space, and lost many of their star systems as a result. One of those systems had been the one had birthed the Yugalyth species, who had never again found a home. And the humans were embarking on the same disastrous path.
“The equipment is here, sir,” said one of the human mercenaries over the com. The humans did not like to enter this room, probably feeling that they would also become food. They delivered those they had kidnapped to the door and shoved them in. Once in the room there was no escape, except down the digestive system of the Prime, where they were converted to Yugalyth biomass.
“Very good,” it said over the com. “Make sure everything works.” It cut the com and turned back to its mobile units. “Now is the time. Gather your equipment and strike. The humans must learn that they must not tamper with time and space the way they do.”
* * *
“We think we’ve got something, Lieutenant,” said the Detective First Class, walking into Ishuhi Rykio office.
The Lieutenant was looking at a holo map of the city, the overview of the disappearances, which had spiked once again. The case was Priority Alpha for the police department. And what they didn’t know was that it was also Naval Intelligence Priority Alpha One, the highest. Someone in Fleet intelligence thought this had something to do with the Yugalyth, and rooting out those creatures here in the capital system couldn’t be any more important.
“Tell me,” he said, looking up at that big man who had just interrupted his thinking. Detective First Class Ramirez was also ex Naval Intelligence, and though he had not been reactivated, he knew the scoop. The man closed the door behind him and walked up to the desk.
“One of our informants reported being chased through the streets by men he said looked at him like he was a side of beef,” said Ramirez, pointing a finger at the map holo and indicating a point near a large park. “He didn’t know who they were, but he was sure that they meant him no good. The snitch, who is an expert at getting his own hide out of trouble, was able to lose them.”
“I guess that’s wonderful for him,” said Rykio, not really seeing how this helped them. The area indicated was large, and almost a third of the disappearances had occurred in that region. Which meant that two thirds of them hadn’t. Which meant that area might not be the center of whatever was taking those people.
“This is where it gets interesting,” said the Detective, ignoring the sarcasm from his officer. “The informant followed the men after they gave up chasing him. I know, crazy. But my guy realized this might be worth some real money. So he decided to take a chance. And he caught them, red, making a snatch and grab, right here.” The detective pointed to a spot, which then glowed on the map.
That’s about three kilometers from where they tried to grab the informant. Interesting. “Did he see what direction they went.”
“Better than that,” said the smiling Detective. “He saw them put their victim, this time a young woman, into an air van and take off. My man was able to call a taxi just before they took off, and had the cabby follow them, to here.”
“Shit,” blurted the Lieutenant, zooming in the map to look at a large warehouse that occupied most of a block. What an unlikely bunch of circumstances, he thought. But unlikely circumstances were how people with the perfect plan often got caught, given enough time.
“Do you know who owns that building?”
“A holding company that first went into business about six months ago,” said the other Detective. “The records on them are kind of sketchy.”
“We have them,” said Rykio, pumping his fist into the air. “Get together a team, while I kick this upstairs. I want to get these people before they have a chance to relocate.” Unsaid was the fact that Naval Intelligence would also be brought in, something both men knew, and the higher ups in the department would find out soon enough.
Chapter Seventeen
A diplomat is a person who can tell you to go to hell in such a way that you actually look forward to the trip. Caskie Stinnett
CAPITULUM, JEWEL. DECEMBER 12TH, 1001.
The day of the wedding dawned warm and clear. Weather control had long been a dream of mankind. Unfortunately, it had never been obtained, except in the grossest of manners. Heat could be pumped into an ocean system to spawn storms, and sometimes rains could be generated in the same manner, though there was always the risk of it getting out of control. Clear weather, not so much.
So Jennifer felt as if God was blessing her marriage by sending them such a fine day. She patted her flat stomach, imagining the life that was already growing there. She would not show for many weeks, but the seed was planted, with the Imperial genome intact. It was a boy. Not that it really mattered, the heir could very well be female. But she knew Sean would be thrilled to have a son.
Oh Glen, she thought, seeing the big Marine in her thoughts, blinking back the tears. We had planned on having children, of raising them on a frontier world where there was air to breath and wilderness to explore. But now those worlds are at risk, and the only safe place, if there is one, is here, on the capital. The Cacas would have to go through the entire military of the Empire to threaten my child.
“What’s wrong,” said Sean, moving up beside her and holding her in his arms. “You’re crying.”
“I’m just so happy that this day is finally here,” she told her fiancé. That was the truth, and a lie. She was so very happy to be marrying the man in front of her, and saddened that her last love hadn’t survived.
“I want to see you smile,” he said after kissing her. “I want this to be the happiest day of your life. Because, after this day, you will be first among women of the Empire.”
“As far as I’m concerned,” she said, smiling, “I already am.”
“With me you already are,” said Sean, stroking her hair. “This will just make it official for the rest of our wretched minions.”
“You.” Jennifer laughed and punched Sean in the chest. Her fist met iron hard muscle, a part of Sean’s genetic heritage. He never works out, except some of those martial arts he enjoys, and he’s built like an athlete.
“Ready, your Majesty?” asked P
hyllis Clarke, the woman who had been designated as wedding planner, for a ceremony that promised to be much more complicated than any other in the last couple of decades.
“Born ready,” said Sean, smiling, his eyes never leaving those of Jennifer. “You?”
“Nervous as hell,” she admitted. “But yes, I‘m ready.”
“Then it is time to go, your Majesty. My Lady.”
The lift took them up to the roof of the main building, where a half dozen transports waited. All looked alike from the outside. The one they were ushered inside was as much different from the others as a mansion was from a barracks. The inside was as luxurious as Sean’s aircar, with plush seats, state of the art holo systems, a small bar. Sean and Jennifer sat in the back seat, with Phyllis sitting in the facing seat with one of the Secret Service Agents on the security detail. Senior Agent in Charge Catherine Mays and two more of her agents took the seat in the next compartment, right behind that of the Imperial couple, while a further pair sat right behind the pilot’s compartment.
One of the other transports was packed with twelve Secret Service Agents, while the other three had infantry from the Imperial Protection Division, wearing medium combat armor, ready to deploy. As soon as everyone was aboard all six of the ships jumped into the air, where another six troop carriers and twelve gunships formed up around them. Overhead was a squadron of atmospheric attack craft, while even further up was a squadron of orbital fighters. And on this day a small squadron of Fleet warships hovered in low orbit over the capital, on the lookout for anything that might come from space to interrupt the ceremony.
Traffic was still coming into Constance the Great Spaceport. Even such an event as this couldn’t stop the traffic that was constantly coming in and out of the capital. The only restriction was a pinching of the air corridors, with shuttles cautioned to not deviate under severe penalty of law.
We’re really doing this, thought Jennifer, wondering if she was going to wake up from this dream after all, and find that she was still a frontier world doctor. She looked over at Sean, who was looking back with that charming smile on his face, and knew that this was reality.
* * *
Sean couldn’t stop looking at Jennifer. The smile on her face was radiant, and he was sure he had made the right choice. She’s beautiful, he thought, looking at her perfectly made up face, her red hair flowing down the back of her dress, held in place by interlinked chains glittering with precious stones.
Sean had seen more beautiful women in his time in the Universe. Most altered by nanite molding or other surgical methods. Jennifer was all natural, and to him that made her much more desirable than any artificially enhanced woman. And she had a fine mind as well. Maybe not on his level, but not too far behind.
The com signal in his link chimed, the kind of sound that only accompanied a priority message. He looked at the signature stamp and saw that it was his chief spy, Director of the IIA, Ekaterina Sergiov. I would have thought that she would be at the cathedral already. It must be really vital for her to chime through at this time.
He connected through his link, using his thoughts to communicate, so as not to alarm Jennifer. Most people preferred to actually speak, and to look at the person they were speaking to on holo. There was always the risk with mind link that something might be said that wasn’t meant to be.
Your Majesty, came the voice of the Director through the link. We have notice from one of my agents about an attack on the capital. Involving the shifters.
Where did this intelligence come from?
Striped Wolf, said the woman, using the code word for the Maurid double agent. We think the intelligence is good. The source says that it comes from the Knockermen themselves.
Any idea of the target? asked Sean, giving Jennifer a worried glance, seeing a frown come over her face.
Not by name, your Majesty. But today is your wedding day. I can’t think of a better target for someone who wants to make a statement.
And your suggestion, Ekaterina? Should we call off the wedding? He felt heartsick as he said the last, looking at Jennifer, imagining the disappointment she would feel.
By no means do I think you should call off the wedding, your Majesty. These people, or whatever they are, are now terrorists. And letting them have their way is the same as letting them win. The wedding must go on. I am mobilizing everything I have, including Capitulum police, to cover all avenues of approach on the ground. I suggest that you alert the military, or give me the authorization to do so. We probably need more top cover, unless I miss my guess.
You have my authorization, Ekaterina, sent Sean, looking out the window at the city passing underneath, the huge towers they were flying over, and the even taller buildings off in the distance. Every barracks, planet wide. But tell them to not interfere with the wedding, or the guests, unless it becomes necessary. I don’t want us causing lot of alarm over what might turn out to be nothing.
I might suggest employing a distortion field around you and the Empress, said Sergiov after a moment’s hesitation. It might just cause an assassin to miss.
The com link died, and Sean continued to stare out into the city, until soft arms encircled him.
“What’s wrong?” asked Jennifer.
“Some last minute military preparations for the offensive,” he said, feeling guilty at having to lie to her.
“Are you sure that’s what it was? You wouldn’t be holding something back?”
And it’s not a good way to start off a marriage, thought Sean, looking into her concerned eyes. Especially when we are going to be a governing partnership. “Ekaterina thinks there may be an attack by the shape shifters.” He cringed a bit as he saw her eyes widen. “It might be during the ceremony. Or soon after.”
“Should we, postpone it, then,” she said, her eyes starting to mist up. “Maybe we can have a small ceremony at the palace.”
“The Emperors of this Empire do not marry in small, private ceremonies,” said Sean, shaking his head. “To back out now sends the wrong message. And, since we know it’s likely coming, we’re prepared.”
Jennifer nodded, not looking happy with the idea that her wedding day might be interrupted by terrorists. But he could see by the set of her chin that she was determined to see it through.
“We’re preparing to set down now, your Majesty,” said Senior Agent in Charge May from her station. “Let the soldiers deploy first, then my people will form up around you and escort you into the cathedral.”
“Don’t crowd me too close,” said Sean, knowing that the woman would have by now received the warning from Sergiov, who was also her boss. “We want the people to see the happy couple.”
Thank God we’re dressed for the occasion, thought Sean, running a hand over the shoulder of Jennifer’s blue gown, which covered her from her neck down to her ankles. The dress was as elegant as could be, and was also made up of impact armor cloth with a reflective undercoating. It could handle any small caliber round that wasn’t launched by a mag rail cannon, and several seconds of medium intensity laser fire. But he couldn’t guarantee that they would not be shot at by more powerful weapons than the clothing could withstand.
Sean himself was wearing his naval Commander in Chief’s uniform, with the same ability to withstand fire as Jennifer’s gown. He also had a ceremonial pistol belted to his waist, that was actually a very serviceable particle beam weapon. On both forearms, hidden under his sleeves, were laser projectors of the same power capacity as military grade pistols. He thought that if it came down to using those weapons to defend himself and his bride, he was really fucked. But having them made him feel better.
The area in front of the cathedral was cleared for the landing. The huge plaza that extended from the bottoms of the steps for kilometers to the outer wall was packed with millions of adoring citizens. Huge holo projectors set up for their viewing showed the transports coming in for landing. As soon as they entered the cathedral the view would switch to inside. Billions of people ac
ross the planet were also watching, from homes, bars, restaurants, even stadiums and arenas set up for this purpose. And, for the first time in history, over three hundred billion people, humans and aliens, would watch a ceremony from the capital city in real time, through the wormhole net.
Sean also noticed all the troops in that plaza, soldiers and Marines in battle armor arrayed around the outside borders. A hundred more on the landing stage. And in the air, hovering on their suit grabbers, hundreds more. Not seen were the sniper and heavy weapons teams occupying vantage points on the cathedral roof and towers, and all the surrounding buildings. Outside of the perimeters of military personnel were thousands of Capitulum police, mostly equipped for crowd control, though their heavy alert teams were also present.
“If you please, your Majesty. My Lady,” said May, opening the door and inviting them out.
The plaza reverberated with the roar of millions of people, cheering for their Monarch and his bride. Sean was popular once again, after his victory at Congreeve. People had hope once more, and this ceremony was a symbol that the Empire would go on, and humans would still have a place in the Galaxy. Sean and Jennifer both waved to the crowd, basking in the adulation.
“Ready?” asked Sean as he held out his arm for his bride.
“Ready,” she agreed, taking that arm and letting herself be led into the cathedral.
The large doors opened, and the Emperor and his bride walked through, while the hundreds of thousands of heads within the Reformed Catholic Cathedral of St. Marks turned and craned to catch the first sight of the Imperial couple. Large holos on the side walls showed the sight to those who could not see them across the huge cathedral.
“See you in a moment,” said Sean, kissing Jennifer, then walking toward the front on the long carpet. There waited the Patriarch of the Church, Pope Julius Komo, his ebony face shining under his Mitre of office. Forward of him stood one of the newest knights of the realm, Second Lieutenant Cornelius Walborski, looking handsome in his dress uniform, even if his expression was decidedly uncomfortable.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 7: Counter Strike Page 24