Back in the present, Gallagher sensed Karen begin to come around from the medically induced sleep.
Karen woke suddenly, sitting bolt upright on the medical couch, her head snapping from side to side as she looked desperately for Collinson, fists clenched and her heart rate peaking as she remembered, with awful clarity, what had just happened. Noticing she was in a medical bay and no longer in Christine’s quarters, her tongue automatically went to where her lip had been split in the fight with Lt. Collinson, only to find there wasn’t even a bruise to mark the spot. She reached up to her forehead and pressed against it, expecting to feel a bruise where she had narrowly avoided a blow to her throat that would have crushed her trachea; but again, nothing.
The lack of any evidence brought a sharp, almost painful flash of hope that the horror of Collinson’s attack had been simply a bad dream, one from which she was recovering, but this shattered as a voice from behind brought Karen crashing down.
“I’m afraid it did happen, Karen,” said the familiar voice of Duke Gallagher, albeit tinged with almost palpable sadness and regret. “But you are safe now, and Collinson is in our brig while his fate is being decided.”
Karen swung her legs to face Gallagher, instinctively taking a few moments to cover herself, realising she only had on a thin medical gown under the covers. Duke Gallagher, looking older than she had seen before, raised himself up from the chair and walked the few steps to stand in front of her. Karen noted he still wore the armour she had briefly glimpsed him in when he’d framed the doorway to Christine’s quarters, moments before Collinson had aimed a killing kick to her head, one she had only just managed to block with her outflung arms.
“Where’s Christine? When can I see her?” she asked the obvious questions, but as she uttered the words, the pain clearly visible in his eyes gave her the answer.
“She’s dead, Karen. The binary neuro-toxin Collinson used was very effective, and there was nothing of her mind or nervous system left for us to save.”
Karen shook her head. “I refuse to believe this. I’ve seen what miracles your science can perform. For goodness sake, why couldn’t she be saved?”
The old Duke motioned for Karen to move over and cautiously sat down next to her, the medical couch creaking alarmingly before additional metal could flow out of the floor to reinforce it against his weight. He looked down to catch her eyes.
“Good as it is, Karen, the further science advances in its ability to save lives, so does our ability to take it away. Vimes tells me we tried everything to save Christine, but the toxin was very thorough, leaving nothing behind.”
While speaking, Gallagher instructed the armour on his arm to withdraw, allowing him to put it around Karen and provide some comfort. She moved closer, grateful for his concern, suddenly finding herself feeling very vulnerable and alone, needing nothing more at this moment than to feel protected and safe. Gallagher looked down at the young woman cradled in his left arm, reminding him of his own daughters, now long grown up. He made a mental note that when he eventually got back to Wayland, his home planet, he would make an effort to seek his daughters out and make a fuss of them. Through his arm, Gallagher could feel Karen quietly sobbing as she digested the news, the experience of his long life telling him now was not the time to say anything nor try to move; just let the poor woman grieve. Grieving himself, he held her tight.
Eventually, Karen composed herself and pulled away, looking up at him.
“Thank you,” was all she said, appreciating his presence. Almost composed, Karen needed to know something. “Where is that bastard Collinson, and what are you going to do with him?”
Gallagher looked down, noting her eyes were red and still brimmed with moisture. “In the Brig, Karen. I will be interrogating him shortly but first wanted to make sure you were OK.
Karen fixed his eyes with a determined stare. “I’m coming with you.”
Gallagher considered refusing, then realised Karen had made a statement, rather than a request. He said nothing, debating with himself what he should do, all the time meeting her gaze and wondering if he should envy or pity Adam in his choice of life partner.
He gave in. “Alright, but only as an observer. If there are any questions you wish to ask of him, you are to run them through me, via Carmen, If you interrupt or do anything, I will eject you from the session. Am I clear, Karen?”
She nodded, unenthusiastically. They both turned to look at an orderly who walked in with fresh clothes for Karen, who jumped off the couch and took them. Gallagher averted his eyes as Karen wriggled into her clothes from underneath the gown. For the first time since Christine’s death, he smiled inwardly, realising he envied Adam. Despite her obvious current distress at what had transpired, there was an indomitable determination and vitality about Karen that spoke well for the future.
“With a woman like that by his side, a young man could conquer the universe,” he thought to himself, wondering again what the next few hours and days would bring.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Hang on a minute, please, Patrick,” came the reply. Karen walked over to a smart metal terminal and placed her hand inside, sending it a command via her implant. Immediately, the now familiar feel of metal began flowing up her arm and down her torso, where it combined with metal flowing up from the floor. It took less than a minute for a suit to form around her and Vimes noted with a little surprise that, like him, she too had a bespoke model. A quick query to Carmen confirmed his suspicion; it bore the signature of the Emperor’s armourer, Graham Flower.
“Do you know how to use that suit properly?” he asked, more than a little impressed.
She raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you think I have been practising since coming on this ship?”
The old Duke reached over, and in a fatherly gesture, placed a hand on her armoured shoulder. “Your reaction to events is not what I expected, Karen. Given all that has happened in your life over the past few months, you seem remarkably composed, especially now. I’m impressed, and I think Christine would have been proud of you.”
Karen looked at him for a second, Gallagher’s words making her think and look back over all the events that had led to this moment.
“You’re right, Patrick. I’m not the same woman that left Earth. Admittedly, my previous life running an accident and emergency team did harden me somewhat to death and loss, but I suspect the new neuro pathways gifted to me by Vimes may have also given me the pragmatism of a veteran. But underneath I’m still the human woman from Earth. One who now wants justice for Christine.”
Karen looked up, straight into Gallagher’s eyes, “I’ve never been the sort to back down from a fight, even as a child. Christine was kind to me; made me feel part of the family, and I want to look that bastard in the eyes and show him he lost.” Her chin trembled a little with tightly contained fury.
Satisfied she would be able to cope with whatever came next, Gallagher nodded. “Let’s get this done,” and together they exited the room. Gallagher headed them towards the transit tube that would take them to where Collinson was being held.
Gallagher called ahead, and as a result, Captain Lopez was waiting for them outside the room where the prisoner was being kept. He saluted Gallagher and nodded a greeting to Karen, unsure of her status but immediately noticing the bespoke armour. If he was surprised that she was there with Gallagher, he didn’t let it show on his face.
“The prisoner?” Gallagher queried.
“Restrained and awake. There are two fully armoured Marines inside the room, with another two outside. He hasn’t asked any questions nor requested anything to eat or drink.”
“Thank you, Captain. Please escort Ms Mcleod to an observation room where she can view what transpires and await her pleasure. I will speak to you after the initial interrogation.” Gallagher gestured for Karen to follow the Captain, who indicated where they should go. Gallagher watched for a moment to make sure she would do as told, then followed, only stoppin
g when he reached the two Marines keeping station at the door. Despite recognising him, they insisted on confirmation from both the ship’s AI and their Captain before opening the door, closing it behind him.
A dishevelled Collinson looked up into Gallagher’s face and smiled thinly, his normally well-kept hair plastered with dried sweat across his high forehead, a look of resignation on his face. He was sitting in a modified crash-couch, restrained with bracelets that allowed him limited movement. His legs and torso were also restrained, but his head had been allowed to move freely. Gallagher waited patiently while another chair formed for him, taking the time to fully retract his helmet, noticing for the first time how cool the room was, as the sweat on his head quickly began evaporating in the artificial breeze. He sat down, saying nothing, his expression neutral, not once taking his eyes from Collinson’s face, looking for any clue as to why he’d perpetrated such a vile act. The two men, separated by age, status, and conscience, faced off until Gallagher broke the silence by speaking first.
“I’m not going to play mind or dominance games with you, Stephen, for I’m sure you’re well versed in what to do and expect in situations such as this. No idle threats, promises or false hope. I can’t even offer you clemency in exchange for you telling me everything, for only Alexander can do that, and somehow I can’t see him agreeing to anything apart from your execution. Do you? No need to answer. It’s obvious who was behind this, and while I would like to know who the intermediaries are, like you, they are simply pawns and of no real importance.”
Gallagher paused, not really expecting Collinson to fill the silence, and as expected, nothing was forthcoming.
“I suppose it was worth a try,” he thought to himself, only to be momentarily taken off guard when Collinson spoke.
“So why are you here, Patrick? It’s not to gloat, I know you better than that. I’m curious. I do have one question, however.” Despite his predicament, Collinson’s voice remained calm and measured, betraying nothing, not even the merest hint of concern for what would happen to him. “Will you indulge me? Perhaps I will answer you honestly in return for an honest one from you.” He paused for a moment. “Want to play?”
Patrick nodded, his expression carefully neutral, although at that moment he wanted nothing more than to smash his armoured fist into Collinson’s smug face. He had no intention of dancing to the man’s tune, nor of being distracted, but decided to see if he could discern what game he was playing.
For as much as his restraints would let him, Collinson shifted on his couch, trying to get comfortable. “Just who is this Karen? I tried checking on her but could find nothing. When I persisted Vimes warned me off. That got me interested. Her fighting skills were impressive too, almost a match for mine. If I hadn’t taken her by surprise at the start, she might even have lasted longer.” He stopped talking for a moment and looked around the room, addressing empty space. “I expect you might even be watching this, Karen, are you? Tell me, does your head still hurt?”
Alone in the other room, watching proceedings via a holographic projection that gave the illusion she was there with them, Karen jumped as Collinson spoke to her, his eyes at one point locking onto hers even though she knew he couldn’t possibly see her. Annoyed with herself for being caught unawares, she fought the temptation to call Duke Gallagher and demand a few minutes alone with the prisoner.
“Don’t be stupid,” she told herself softly, as if afraid she could be heard, “you wouldn’t do anything even if the Duke allowed you to. It’s not who you are.”
In the room, Collinson had stopped moving on his couch and waited for Gallagher to answer.
“Pay attention carefully, Stephen, as I shan’t repeat any of this. Karen is from a world that has been kept secret from the Empire, which is why you could find no trace of her. She met Adam recently, and they have formed a bond. In fact, she will probably marry him at some point and if she does, will become the next Empress. By killing Christine, all you have done is bring forward that day and make her an implacable enemy to your cause.”
“Is that all, Patrick?” replied Collinson, a sneer on his face, “Nothing more to say? I can sense you have missed several important things out, haven’t you? If you don't play the game fairly, I shan’t say anything further.”
“Of course I have, Stephen,” Gallagher responded, “I just wanted to distract you for a few moments and get you to focus on something while we mapped the receptive portions of your brain. When, or perhaps, if you wake up, we will have taken all the information we need from your unconscious mind.”
Collinson glared at him but remained silent, his mouth shut in a tight line, his eye’s reflecting the deep hatred and contempt he held. Suddenly, they rolled up and closed, his head falling to rest on his chest as Gallagher triggered the anaesthetic drug in his system.
Gallagher sat there for a further minute, thinking back over how he could have missed seeing Collinson for what he was, finally realising there had been no signs and the traitor had been the consummate professional all along. Moments after the attack, Carmen and Vimes had begun conducting a meticulous check on Collinson’s background and Gallagher was hopeful they would unearth something soon or at least have it ready for when they returned to Empire space.
His reverie was disturbed by a message from Captain Lopez, telling him that the medical staff had arrived to take away the prisoner and were waiting outside, together with Ms Mcleod who had been refused entry by the two Marines.
He got up and opened the door, gesturing for the medics to enter, noting the floating gurney on which Collinson would be laid before being taken away. He left the room, shutting the door behind him, taking Karen by the arm and gently, but forcibly, pulling her after him and away from the Marines.
Karen had the presence of mind not to speak out loud in front of anybody. “What sort of interrogation was that? she thought at him furiously, “You didn’t lay a finger on him, raise your voice or even threaten any sort of violence. It was like watching two Buddhist monks argue over who should do the dusting!”
“Would you prefer I’d beaten him to a pulp in front of you, Karen? How would that have changed things? He’s obviously been conditioned to resist and anyway, torture rarely works or provides anything of value. You just bring yourself down to their level. I needed him distracted and focused on what I was saying while the couch he was sitting on took readings and a picture of his mind. We needed it focused on what I was saying so we could bypass the blocks he had in place. Our techniques don’t work if the mind is drugged, asleep or focused on keeping us out. Now, we’ll get everything we need, although I suspect it will be very little. He’s obviously part of a professional network; everything would have been on a need to know basis only.”
Gallagher smiled evilly, then spoke out aloud, “No, much as I wanted to hurt him, I have something much better in mind which I think may go some way to resolve a potentially difficult problem.”
Reaching the transit tube, he gestured for her to get in first, then instructed it to take them to the shuttle bay.
“I’ve requested an audience with Freya. She needs to be told what’s happened and I’m afraid it’s down to you and me to do it. You seemed to have piqued her interest, and being female and a witness to Christine’s death, you can be of real help to me in diffusing a desperately difficult situation. I’m sorry I can’t give you the time to grieve, but this has to take precedence.”
“I understand, Patrick. I want to keep busy as it will take my mind off what has happened. Like you, I’ll do my grieving when this is all over, and we are safely back in Empire space.” Karen took a deep breath. “How do you think Freya will react?” she asked, the seriousness of his voice and manner pushing aside her earlier annoyance, replacing it with apprehension at what might happen next.
“Your guess is as good as mine, Karen. We are her guests, so I am hoping we will be allowed to leave safely, as to do otherwise would mean war, but I have no idea how she will deal with the death o
f Christine in her space.”
Karen could see the stress hidden behind Gallagher’s eyes and in how he was holding himself, even though his body was shielded by armour.
“Will it be just us two going over this time?” she asked, thinking an honour guard might not be a good idea, given the circumstances.
Almost as if he had read her mind, Gallagher nodded. "I think it’s best. I’ve also requested no formal reception or ceremony, so we should be escorted straight to her with the minimum of formality. First Mihos has confirmed he will greet us and take us to the Empress.”
He stood up as the transit tube door opened and followed Karen out into the hangar bay’s anteroom, where a shuttle was being prepped behind a huge window. As both were wearing armour, they dispensed with waiting for the docking tube to form. Instead, Gallagher motioned for Karen to form her helmet and they exited through the airlock and into the hard vacuum of the hanger, walking the fifty yards to the shuttle steps. Once inside and the doors secured, they stood at two docking stations and allowed their suits to be absorbed, leaving them dressed in their normal clothes, then took a few moments to strap themselves into their flight seats.
As was his habit, Gallagher used his override codes to interface himself with the shuttle’s command systems to check on progress, but this time he also transmitted the information to Karen. She turned to him and mouthed a silent “thank you” as she could now trace their path towards the gigantic Felidae Flagship where Freya was waiting. With a silent command from Gallagher, the shuttle silently eased away from its cradle and gently accelerated out of the open hanger doors and into space. From the data now passing through her mind, Karen could observe the Flagship with more senses than just her naked eyes. Gently shimmering, multi-layered shields were clearly visible, and the energy signatures of multiple engines throbbed in gold amidst the bulk of the great vessel. She used her implant to look behind at the ship they were rapidly leaving; it too was covered in faint, shimmering light, although the power emanations coming from it were shaded more towards a deep orange than the Felidae’s.
Imperium: Coda: Book Three in the Imperium Trilogy Page 2