by Thomas Locke
And he was fast.
They were all taken aback by his speed. Dillon was the only one who managed to get off a blast of his own. But it did no good. There was still enough dust in the air for Sean to see the vibrations as Dillon’s assault split and flowed to either side of the assailant, leaving him untouched.
The attacker stepped forward and flicked out his blade. It was an almost casual gesture, except that it was blindingly swift. His target was Logan.
Sean instinctively shot out a shield. Nicolette shrieked and drew her sidearm, as did Vance and Gerrod. The blade was faster.
But Sidra was swifter still.
The street waif revealed both lightning reflexes and a tiger’s strength. She leapt in front of Logan and shoved him so hard he fell over backward, landing hard enough to punch out his breath.
The blade sank into Sidra’s back. Right at heart level.
She crumpled to the stones without a sound.
This time Nicolette’s shriek was joined by a multitude of other yells, including Sean’s. Four weapons fired on the Assassin—Nicolette’s and Vance’s and Kyle’s and Gerrod’s. Sean blasted him with the transiter’s force, as did Dillon. Two fists of helpless rage.
Only he was no longer there.
“No!” Kyle crumpled to the stones beside Sidra. He cradled the tiny inert form, stroked her face, rocked back and forth. “No!”
Logan’s face was terrible to behold. He gripped one of Sidra’s limp hands and stared at the young-old face. Silent. Immobile. He let Kyle wail for him.
“Sean.” Dillon’s expression was unlike anything Sean had ever seen before. His brother showed Logan a warrior’s fierce intent. “We need to strike.”
“Wait,” Sean said. He looked down at a shattered Logan. Sean knew he was going to have to step up and think for them all in that moment. But that was okay.
Dillon growled, “Sean . . .”
“I said wait.”
His tone not only silenced his brother, it also drew the attention of everyone except Kyle. Even Logan glanced over.
Sean told them, “We all know this changes everything.”
Dillon said, “The gloves come off.”
“We have a window,” Sean said. His voice was astonishingly calm. His heart was hammering, his mind was racing, his fury was a volcanic rush. But his voice revealed none of this. He kept his gaze on Logan, giving the commander his due. “They think we’ll be in total confusion from what we’ve just seen.”
“Our defenses have been torn wide open,” Dillon said. “They have ghost-walkers. They have weapons we shouldn’t know anything about. They’ll be preparing an attack. On their schedule. When they’re good and ready. The clock is theirs to control.”
“But they’re wrong,” Sean said. “If we act fast.”
It was Nicolette who said, “Tell us what you’re thinking.”
Sean laid out his idea as swiftly as he could manage, knowing he left more gaps than solutions. Then he waited.
Vance walked over and touched a dark spot on the wall. He inspected his fingers, then held them up to the others. “Blood. We injured their attacker.”
“They have others,” Gerrod fretted. “And we don’t know how many.”
“They won’t matter,” Dillon said. “As soon as their off-world superiors realize we know who they are and what they’re up to, they’ll freak.”
“But we have to act fast,” Sean said.
Logan rose slowly to his feet. The events had aged him a thousand years. “We’ll be ready for your signal.”
43
Sean transited with Dillon to the far side of the first Havoc cavern, away from the guards stationed by the Hawk tunnel mouth. He scouted quickly, then pointed to an empty ledge two-thirds of the way up the wall. “How about up there?”
“Perfect,” Dillon said.
Once they had transited up, Sean told his brother, “Fast as you can.”
Dillon shot him a grin that was frightening in its intensity. “Shock and awe.”
“Absolutely.”
They were no longer after defense.
They wanted obliteration.
Dillon waved his arms like a demented conductor, drawing together a roaring tempest of stone and dust and debris. Faint screams and cries began rising from the cavern floor. Dillon took everything that wasn’t living, nailed down or not. He wanted it all.
“Block them from getting anywhere near the tunnel mouth!” Dillon shouted.
“On it.” Sean fashioned a shield shaped pretty much like the hill they had just left behind. A curved structure that barred the hysterical mob from approaching Dillon’s target.
The running, screaming people rammed into the invisible wall and bounced off like a pinball machine gone berserk.
The gun placements stationed by the Hawk tunnel rose off their stanchions and melded into Dillon’s tornado. Next came virtually all the buildings, the tents, the kitchen areas, the works. Sean made a mental note to ask Dillon how he managed to avoid sweeping up the people and animals as well. But for the moment he was content to observe his brother grind the cavern’s contents in midair.
Dillon hurled the massive shrieking tornado straight into the tunnel mouth.
44
The whirlwind vanished down the connecting tunnel, roaring and shrieking and shaking the ground like a caged beast hungry for release. Dillon kept his arms outstretched and his eyes scrunched shut, then as the sound eased he said, “That’s as far as I can push it.”
“Let’s hope it’s far enough.” Sean reached for his brother’s hand.
They stepped and transited from the first Havoc cavern to the second. And found themselves at the border of a full-fledged panic.
Sean spotted an empty ledge, pointed, and had to shout to be heard. “Up there, two o’clock!”
“Go!”
Once they arrived, the height diminished the clamor to the point that they could hear themselves think. The middle cavern, the one formerly holding the Havoc military compound, was a chaotic mess. The precise layout was gone, replaced by a jumble of men and equipment and debris. Sean could see how Dillon’s tornado had roared from the tunnel mouth and sprayed destruction almost the entire way across the vast cavern.
“Time for me to help the others get started,” Sean said.
Dillon was already into his windup. “I’m good here.”
As Sean started to depart, he had an idea. “Maybe you should seal the mouth leading to Tiko’s main cavern.”
Dillon hesitated. “Say again?”
“Stop the army here from coming to Tiko’s aid. You know, once we move on.”
Dillon spared time for a fierce grin. “Go get the others and hurry back. I miss hearing the sound of your brain at work.”
When Sean returned to the Hawk market cavern, he found Logan and most of his team standing in rough formation in the empty plaza fronting the tunnel mouth. Vance and Nicolette were shaping the teams, squaring them away, prepping for the next step. As per Sean’s plan, Gerrod had been sent ahead with a few of the transiters and most of the newly arrived militia. Their aim was to take control of the first Havoc cavern while confusion still reigned.
Logan stood alone, wrapped in a solemn cloak of grimness and loss.
Sean stepped in close. “I’m so sorry.”
“Sidra was my first discovery,” Logan said, his voice as bleak as his expression. “Sometimes it felt as though I learned my secret craft so I could release her from her chains.”
Sean gave that a beat, then said, “Dillon and I are after a certain kind of tactic.” As he spoke, Nicolette and Vance drifted into listening range. Sean gave Logan a chance to object, but when their commander remained silent he went on. “It’s called stressing the situation. The aim is to keep your opponent off balance. Show him that his assumption of control is all wrong.”
“Stressing,” Nicolette repeated. “I am liking this word very much.”
“The thing is,” Sean said, “we have to move f
ast. There isn’t time for . . .”
Logan nodded his understanding.
“We will mourn with you,” Vance said, gripping Logan’s arm. “Once we have found the man who did this and ground him into the dust.”
Logan focused for the first time since Sidra had dropped to the stones. “It’s good to rely on the strength of friends.”
“That’s the word for this hour,” Nicolette said. “Friends.”
Sean loved having a reason to grin. “Let’s go shock Duke Tiko right out of his boots.”
45
They arrived in time to watch Dillon’s final sweep. At first glance, it appeared that the entire Havoc military machine was now piled up against the tunnel mouth that before had led to the palace hold. The twisted metal and machines and weapons and barracks and supplies formed a multicolored mountain. Up by the cavern’s distant ceiling rose an empty, broken flagpole.
Sean pointed and said, “Your work?”
“I thought it made a nice sort of statement.” Dillon turned to the others and said, “You might want to step back from the edge. Somebody down there is bound to still have a sidearm.”
Sean had his doubts. And even if a Havoc soldier was armed, he doubted they would be able to use it. The impact of Dillon’s force had been total. Far below, people milled about with the frantic mindlessness of ants that had just lost their hill. Many appeared to be wearing only fragments of their original uniforms.
Logan demanded, “How do you manage this?”
“Praetorian training is centered on one theme. Maximum impact with minimum loss of life.”
Sean pretended not to notice Logan’s pain. “Time to move.” As the others linked up, he added, “I think maybe we should bring in our superiors. But only if you agree.”
Logan glanced at his officers.
“I agree,” Vance said.
Nicolette nodded. “Brodwyn needs to see this.”
“Very well.” He said to Sean, “Make it happen.”
Sean started to say that Logan needed to come and make the request official, but a fractional head shake from Nicolette kept the words unspoken.
“In the meantime, we will continue stressing the Havocs,” Nicolette said.
“Now you’re singing my tune,” Dillon said.
46
The same young woman was there in Cylian’s parlor. Only this time when Sean arrived she saluted and declared, “The Advocate is resting in the back room, Major.”
Sean’s question was cut off by a faint cry emanating down the hallway. He told the ensign, “I need to speak with Brodwyn, Anyon, and Carver. On the double.”
“Right away, sir!” She vanished.
As he rushed down the hall, a weak voice cried, “Sean?”
“Coming!”
When he entered the bedroom, Cylian collapsed back onto her pillow. “I was so worried!”
“What’s going on?”
“I’ve been . . .” Her eyes drifted downward. She fought against it and lost. “I can’t . . . Oh.”
Sean stroked her face and called her name, then realized a third person in white stood by the side wall. He recognized Sandrine, now serving as medical officer to the Watchers’ Academy. “What happened to her?”
“We know very little for certain.” She kept her gaze on the silent form as she said, “Last night’s banquet went on until very late. Afterward they returned to Serena, as had become the habit since the Watchers . . . This morning they returned to Cygneus Prime. It appears that Cylian dozed off in a meeting. She woke up screaming from a nightmare that would not release her. She’s been like this all day.”
Sean turned at the sound of people rushing down the adjoining hallway. Anyon and Carver and Brodwyn crowded into the bedroom. The two Assembly officials looked scarcely better than Cylian, their faces creased with exhaustion and very real pain.
Sean asked Sandrine, “Has she said anything?”
“A few words, in a tongue no one understands,” Sandrine replied. “If it is speech at all.”
Anyon demanded, “Does Clan Havoc have access to weapons of this sort?”
“No,” Sean replied, touching Cylian’s cheek, willing her to wake up. “Not a chance.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Their leader, Duke Tiko, is terrified of transiters and everything they represent. He’s working with Kaviti only because that group’s aims are off-world.” Sean gripped the limp hand and turned to the others. “Could someone or something attached to the Human Assembly have done this?”
“Not possible.” Carver was absolutely firm. “This breaks the core component of our Praetorian code.”
Sean had suspected as much. But he had to be certain. He turned back to Sandrine. “Can you record everything she says?”
“Of course, if you think . . .”
“It could be important. Vital.”
“I will set it up immediately.”
“Also, next time she awakens, ask her if there was a lighthouse in her nightmare.”
“I’m sorry, a what?”
“A beacon. One with a death ray that sweeps in a circle.”
Sandrine turned pale. “That is exactly what the surviving Watcher has described.”
Anyon demanded, “What does it mean?”
“Not the aliens again,” Carver said. “It’s too soon.”
Reluctantly Sean rose to his feet. He thought he knew the answer, but it had to wait. “We need to go. In the meantime, have the duty ensign pull all Assembly reps off Cygneus Prime.”
Anyon protested, “Our negotiations with their ruling council have reached a critical stage.”
“They are to transit off and not return,” Sean insisted, forcing himself to turn from the lovely young woman. “Do it or face more casualties.”
“But—”
Sean’s patience broke wide open. “We don’t have time for this! For once in your life, try following a directive without wasting everybody’s time!”
What Carver and Brodwyn thought of the most senior representative of the Human Assembly being barked at by the most junior was covered by discreet coughs.
Anyon’s face turned beet red, but he merely nodded and turned to the wide-eyed ensign. “Do as he says.”
“Aye, sir.” She glanced at Sean, then vanished.
Sean reached out both hands and said, “We’re headed for Tiko’s main hold.”
47
The first thing that struck Sean upon their arrival back in the Havoc central cavern was the perfumed air.
He should have expected it. He had noticed the grove of trees when he passed through, hunting. Dillon stood behind a line of shrubbery that hid him from the palace ramparts. The trees formed a living barrier between the shrubs and the town fronting the central keep. A stream ran between the trees and the village. Sean had to assume it was driven by underground pumps. The sight was as ostentatious a display of wealth as the grove. Most of the trees were blooming varieties, and many branches were heavy with fruit. The fragrance was jarring. Sean noticed the dry, acrid smell of the lifeless caverns most intensely now.
Logan, Dillon, and the officers had split their troops into three groups. Half of the local transiters were spread in a semicircle with Logan and Dillon at its center. Their aim was to gather ammo in the form of rocks and hardware, and maintain high alert. Any newcomer who popped into view, grey suited or not, was to be annihilated.
Nicolette stepped over, saluted Brodwyn, and told Sean, “My teams are ready and all have the same order. Protect your brother at all costs.”
Vance’s group was stationed farther away, sheltered behind an outcrop from the cavern wall. The stone walls were ornately carved and rimmed by mock pillars. When Brodwyn asked what they were, Logan replied, “The Havoc crest forms the centerpiece of each side. The chamber probably serves as a family shrine.”
Vance’s team was already busy taking rocks and earth and small shrubs and flinging them at the palace. Most of their energy was directed at the
parapets and town’s guard towers. Massive holes along the castle’s outer wall suggested former gun placements that had been obliterated.
Vance stepped over to the officers, his grin making a mockery of his salute. “We haven’t seen a head, much less a weapon, in far too long.”
Gerrod’s troops were arrayed in skirmish teams surrounding both groups of transiters. They kept up a constant barrage of small-arms fire at the palace ramparts and the town’s guard towers.
Brodwyn stared up at the vast yellow-stone edifice. “Tiko’s forebears were the most brutal of the Cygnean pirates. They smuggled, they pillaged, they used the Outer Rim as their base.”
Gerrod said, “They still teach the battle tactics used to defeat the Havoc pirate fleet at officer’s academy.”
Logan stared at the palace with bleak intent and did not speak.
“They’ve got a lot to answer for,” Brodwyn said. She laid a hand on Logan’s shoulder and said, “Sean tells me you have suffered a great loss.”
He seemed to maintain control only with great effort. “She was my first and closest friend.”
“There is nothing that can be said to fill the empty void caused by losing a friend in battle,” Brodwyn said. “But enduring this is part of being a true leader. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Logan did not respond.
“I find it necessary, tragic as it may sound, to observe this trait in my subordinates before appointing them to high command.” Her hand lifted once and settled back. “It is an honor to serve with you.”
Logan managed, “Thank you, General.”
Sean gave that a moment, then said to Dillon, “Time for phase two.”
Carver stepped up to Dillon and said, “May I offer my support?”