The Game Players of Meridien: Chronicles of the Second Empire (Chronicles of the Second Interstellar Empire of Mankind Book 1)

by Robert I. Katz

  And then, from around the corner in front of the Tower marched a troop of armed men, at least a hundred. They carried energy rifles and every one of them wore a bandolier of grenades across his chest. They lined up facing the building in an excellent imitation of military order. Behind them rumbled two armored vehicles, each equipped with a machine gun and a small rocket launcher. On top of one armored vehicle, wearing a red scarf around his neck and two red armbands, stood Graham Reid.

  The Colonel was good at keeping a poker face but even he could not conceal his consternation. He pressed an alarm. The few non-combatants among us, mostly young children and some adults assigned to supervise them, would hopefully pay heed and head to the basement levels of the Tower.

  A shot rang out and one of the men lined up outside the building fell, then another, but the armored vehicles raised their guns and even inside the plexiglass lobby, we could hear the rat-a-tat sound of the machine guns as they raked the balconies above our heads, killing our snipers or at least driving them back inside the building. Then the guns lowered and turned and pointed at all of us, huddling behind our makeshift barriers inside the lobby.

  “Those walls will not hold,” the Colonel remarked, almost to himself.

  With a jet of flame, a rocket shot from its tube, crashed into the glass and exploded. A round crater appeared in the glass, radiating cracks in a two-meter circle.

  “Retreat!” the Colonel ordered. Everybody streamed toward the hallways leading off the lobby.

  I grabbed Cernan. “They want me,” I said. “That’s Graham Reid. It’s a challenge. If you surrender me, this assault will end.”

  Cernan frowned. “Will it? Revolution? A full-blown siege of Aphelion? None of that is the result of a simple challenge. Perhaps, as you say, if we surrender you to Graham Reid it might stop this particular attack but it will most certainly not stop the larger attack on the city. No.” He shook his head. “I will not surrender you. They can go to Hell.”

  I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

  “Curtis!” the Colonel yelled. Curtis raised his head, walked over to us through the rushing crowd. “You are released from my command. You have my thanks. Assist Mr. Oliver in any way that you can.”

  Curtis gave a crisp nod and saluted. The Colonel turned toward me. “Good luck,” he said.

  We gathered my remaining men and ran for the stairway. We had no need to stop and plan. We had practiced this contingency many times in the past. The sub-basement led to a series of store rooms, and the furthest store room ended in a delivery ramp with a conveyer belt that led up into an alley. Above the conveyer belt, two metal panels folded outward onto the pavement. There weren’t any stairs, but the conveyer belt had a shallow enough incline that two men walking abreast could traverse it without difficulty.

  One of the guys, named Stephenson, walked up the ramp. When he reached the top, he attached a directional mic to one of the metal doors. He listened for a long, tense minute, then said, “Nothing.”

  We folded the doors back onto the street and stepped out. The alley was narrow. A garbage dumpster crouched near the entrance, overflowing with plastic bags. The garbage had not been picked up in days. I curled my nose at the stench. One-by-by one, we went down the alley, Curtis leading. He reached the end, poked his head out and surveyed the street. It was empty. A few sheets of paper blew by on the breeze. Behind us, the Tower shook as another rocket slammed into its front.

  Stay or go? No place in the city was really safe but there were plenty of abandoned buildings to hide in. On the other hand, I had seventeen trained men with me and most of the enemy were not professionals.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do,” I said.

  They had posted sentries but the sentries were facing front. We had spent three days in the Tower, most of the time with little to do. All of us had made red armbands, just in case. We put them on. We didn’t have the military fatigues but then, a lot of the enemy fighters that we had seen marching down the avenues did not.

  We trotted around the building, three abreast, making no attempt to hide. The sentries saw us coming but they also saw our red armbands. “What’s up?” one of them said.

  “Reinforcements,” I said.

  He shrugged. “We don’t need you.”

  I broke his jaw with a swing of my rifle and my men swarmed the rest. Within seconds, they were on the ground, groaning and in one case, dead. We grabbed their grenades, crept up behind the vehicles, which were now firing steadily at the Tower. There seemed no purpose in the fire. If they wanted to kill or capture the defenders, they were going to have to go inside and do it. The plexiglass walls were shattered. The people had retreated, either deep inside the building or down into the basements. The Tower was a big, solid building, made out of concrete and steel. They weren’t going to set it on fire and it would take a day or more to reduce it to rubble. I guess they just liked explosions.

  So did we.

  We took ten grenades, pulled the pins, rolled them underneath the vehicles, then retreated.

  The vehicles shook, rose into the air and crashed down onto their sides, holes blown through the bottoms. Their guns fell silent. From each vehicle, a red trickle slowly dripped down onto the pavement. By now, of course, the attackers realized that the battle had taken an unexpected turn. They turned, stared and charged us, firing wildly, and we ran for it.

  A large park, nearly five square kilometers, stood only two blocks away. The park had once been the private estate of a very wealthy colonist, one of the early settlers on Aphelion. His descendants had donated the land and the main keep to the city over a thousand years ago. In the center of the park stood a stone castle, now a museum, with a moat and a covered drawbridge. We ran among the trees, heading for it.

  We reached the castle just before our attackers, ran inside and tossed another five grenades onto the bridge. It collapsed.

  “Now what?” Curtis said.

  “Now we wait.”

  We were soon surrounded. Our attackers seemed content to sit across from the castle, firing random shots across the moat. We conserved our ammunition and didn’t bother to return the fire.

  Within an hour, I could see Graham Reid among the trees, directing the troops. Another hour passed, then two, then we could hear a rumbling in the distance, coming closer.

  “Not good,” Curtis said.

  I had no answer. Another armored vehicle rolled up across from the moat and began to fire at the castle wall. We retreated to the other side of the building. Far above us, I could see small specks, quickly growing larger. I sighed. Ultralights. There were ten of them, then twenty, then nearly a hundred, heading our way.

  “Surrender is an option,” Curtis said.

  Or a death sentence. I doubted that Graham Reid would allow me to live, surrender or not. As for my men, who knew? “I’m considering it,” I said.

  An explosion came from outside the walls, very big, very loud. Curtis sighed. “Now what?”

  More explosions followed, closer and closer to the castle but none of them fell on us. We poked our heads out and saw all the ultralights circling over the enemy troops, dropping bombs. Our attackers scattered, running for their lives as the ultralights began to land on the other side of the moat. I recognized their uniforms and I laughed.

  “What?” Curtis said.

  “It’s the Avalon Commandoes. We’re saved.”

  Chapter 21

  The Avalon Commandoes were not the most disciplined troops, nor the best trained, but they had enthusiasm and they had numbers, and they were accompanied by the soldiers of three of our allies. Within a day, the rebels had thrown down their arms, removed their armbands and blended back into the population. Many of them would never be identified, but enough of them were captured to identify at least some of the leaders.

  The instigators, however, those who had supplied the money and the weapons, were not identified. They had vanished.

  The siege of Aphelion was over, b
ut most of the city was without power. Clean water and food had to be rationed and almost a million people were at least temporarily homeless.

  But we were alive. Most of the infrastructure was intact and the rest could be re-built. It could have been worse.

  Oliver Enterprises initially lost some business, but since much of our business was construction and since at least a tenth of the city had been turned into rubble, we lost little in the end. Clarion escaped without harm.

  Jennifer returned a day later, having stayed safe and avoided the fighting. We went to bed early that night.

  A few days later, the city was still digging its way out, the power having only recently been restored, the water again fit to drink, when Guild Master Anderson asked to see me.

  “Brandy?” he offered.

  “Sure,” I said.

  He poured a deep amber liquid into a goblet and passed it to me. “Violette XO,” he said. “From Earth. Supposed to be the very best. I figure we deserve it.” So did many others, I thought, some of whom had not survived.

  I sipped it. Excellent stuff but not exactly the best I had ever had. No doubt, it was over-priced.

  “A victory,” the Guild Master said.

  I made a rude noise. He nodded and gave me a morose smile. “I share your sentiments. A few more victories like this and we won’t have a country left.”

  “They almost won. If they had held off for a few more years to build up their forces and consolidate their position, this might have turned out very differently.”

  “Perhaps, but I think they took their best shot.” the Guild Master said. “We were already suspicious of them. It wouldn’t have been long before we understood what they were trying to do.”

  Most of the rioters were citizens of Meridien, Bhukarins and others, some stirred up by political rabble rousers, some paid. None of the foot soldiers were Guild but clearly, some of the fighting had been coordinated from at least one of the Guilds. Tarentinus had been placed under interdiction, its officers arrested, its membership at least temporarily suspended. We had already learned that Tarentinus’ finances were almost entirely foreign. The nation of Gath had taken them over years ago.

  “What about Graham Reid?” I said.

  The Guild Master gave a minute shrug. “He’s no longer important, not to the Guilds and not to Meridien.”

  “Perhaps he’s important to me,” I said.

  “That is your business, not ours.” The Guild Master regarded me over the rim of his glass. “You may continue your challenge if you wish. It is no longer the Guild’s concern.”

  “And yet you’ve made commitments to me.”

  “The commitments that we made will be kept but your challenge to Graham Reid has accomplished its purpose. We know what the enemy was planning. As I said, it’s no longer our concern.”

  I still didn’t like Graham Reid. I sat back, considering.

  The Guild Master watched my face for a moment, then said, “Graham Reid played the game according to the rules that were in effect at the time, but those rules have changed. He will be required to sever all relationships with the nation of Gath. From now on, all foreign support is to be reported to the Guild Council. We cannot allow our most important institutions to be corrupted. We will not let this happen again.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I said.

  The Guild Master nodded.

  “What’s next?” I said.

  “A good question. We’re discussing it even now with our allies. Many nations have reason to be displeased with Gath.”

  “And while you’re discussing it, what will you want from me?”

  “Tarentinus has been placed in receivership and its assets distributed among the other Guilds. We have the former Master of Tarentinus in custody. I would like you to observe his interrogation. After that…” He shrugged. “Perhaps nothing. It is a truism that two parties are required to make peace but only one to make a war. We seem to be at war, though until a few days ago, we didn’t know it. You’ve already proven to be useful. Perhaps you can be useful again. We’ll be in touch.

  “Oh, and by the way,”—he gave me a slow smile—“your former friend, Leon Sebastian, has been selected as the new Master of Gentian.”

  Chapter 22

  Graham Reid had exhibited more foresight than I had expected. He was gone, but he had not gone empty-handed. For at least a year before I issued my challenge, Reid had been preparing for this day. He had allied himself with the forces of Gath but had evidently been hedging his bets. His stock had been sold off in small, anonymous increments. He had remained CEO only because a board meeting had not yet appointed a replacement. He took his money, tried to assassinate me, just for fun, I suppose, and vanished. The World was a wide place and money is fungible. A corporation equals a certain amount of money; the money equals a corporation. He could be anywhere, using his money to buy himself a new place, still playing the game.

  So, I found myself the principal owner of Clarion Enterprises, the shipping interests of which dovetailed nicely with the rest of my business.

  Two days later, Curtis and I walked into the offices of the Guild Council. The building was spacious and well-guarded, more so after our recent troubles, entirely surrounded by a concrete barrier set at the edge of a plaza paved with stone and dotted with shade trees. Three very large, muscular men in black uniforms met us at the entrance. One of them said, “Please hand over all your weapons and enter the scanner.”

  We did as we were told then walked down a hallway and into an elevator, which descended four stories beneath the Earth. The security men trooped along with us, none saying a word, until we came to a heavy, metal door. Beyond the door, Guild Master Anderson, Guild Master Ballister of Viridian and Leon Sebastian sat in comfortable chairs on the top level of an amphitheater.

  I had not seen Leon since my visit to Sebastian Securities, now months in the past. I had avoided him and other than my encounter with Jolene he had made no effort to contact me. He gave me a crooked smile and said nothing when I walked in but I could see a heat signature flare on his face. A blush. Good to know he was capable of feeling shame, though it was in fact a rather little blush.

  “Sit down,” Guild Master Anderson said, “both of you. Tell us what you think.”

  Below us, the former Master of Tarentinus, Lawrence Robeson, sat in a metal chair. Robeson was a thin, elderly man, with a wisp of white hair encircling his otherwise pink, bald head. His eyes were a pale blue, his expression serene. His hands were strapped to the arms of the chair. His legs were shackled. Two men dressed in white coats stood on either side of his chair.

  “So far,” Guild Master Anderson said, “he’s told us nothing.” He made no attempt to keep his voice down and Robeson gave what might have been a tiny snort. His smile never wavered.

  “So, Lawrence,” Guild Master Anderson said, “why have you betrayed us?”

  Robeson clearly rolled his eyes but stayed silent. Anderson frowned.

  “Was it money? Money isn’t much use if there’s nowhere left to spend it. Your home and your family are here. Were you planning on re-locating to Gath? It’s a stark place, from what I understand. Spartan. They’re not much for the comforts of modern life. Modern life is too decadent for them.”

  Robeson raised his eyes and looked at us. “I’m afraid that I can tell you very little.”

  “And why is that?” the Guild Master asked.

  Robeson sighed. “If you take a scan of my brain, you will find a small mechanical device. If I speak about anything that my employers do not wish to be revealed, it will explode.”

  The two men at his side looked at each other and slowly backed away. Robeson smiled at them. “Don’t be afraid. A very small explosion, just enough to scramble my brain. The symptoms would resemble a sudden stroke.” A doubtful look crossed his face. “Though I suppose the blood coming from my ears and nose might provide a clue.”

  “Why?” the Guild Master asked.

  Robeson smiled at Le
on Sebastian. “How can you ask that? I was young, I was poor and I was ambitious.”

  Leon frowned. “Don’t look at me. I followed the rules,” he said. “Nothing that I have done is forbidden.”

  “The letter of the law, perhaps, but the spirit?” Robeson shook his head. “I don’t think that you are as innocent as you would like to appear. You have aided your nation’s enemies.”

  Leon gave him a level look. “I allied with one player against another. That is not at all the same thing. I have not betrayed my country.”

  “Only your friend.”

  Leon glanced at me. “I expect my friend to understand.”

  Oh, certainly I understood. Money and position were more important to Leon Sebastian than friendship. I understood that just fine.

  “So, you’ve been working for Gath for how many years?” Guild Master Anderson asked.

  “That I cannot answer.”

  “More than twenty?” I asked. These were the first words I had said and they all looked at me.

  “Answer the question,” Anderson said.

  “I cannot answer.” The answer was yes. I could see it.

  “How many nations is Gath attempting to subvert?” Leon asked.

  Robeson shook his head.

  “All of them?” I asked. His aura fluctuated with uncertainty.

  “All of them on this continent?” Again, he said nothing and he seemed uncertain but I could see that the answer tended toward yes.

  The Master of Viridian leaned forward. “Can you think of any reason why we should keep you alive?” His voice was deep, rich and completely dispassionate.

  Robeson shrugged. “Gath might be willing to ransom me…” He sounded uncertain.

  Guild Master Ballister gave a little snort. “I’ve heard enough,” he said, and rose to his feet. “Send me a report when you’ve finished. If you need my vote to execute him, you’ll have it.” He walked out.

  Guild Master Anderson rose also. “Douglas, I would appreciate your assisting with the remainder of the interrogation.” He looked at Leon Sebastian. “You and I have some issues to discuss. Perhaps you could accompany me to my office.” It wasn’t a question.