Seek and Destroy stood in the doorway to Nemo’s control room, waiting for orders. Nemo could see them out of the corner of his eye but had not acknowledged their presence yet. He’d found you could learn a lot about people by watching the way they handled the stress of torture; and for Seek and Destroy, waiting was the worst torture he could ever devise.
So he continued to check his monitors and issue commands, via his network of inner ear transmitters, to his agents throughout the Underhive, all the while watching Seek and Destroy get more and more agitated. With his eyes hidden behind the mirrored mask, he knew they couldn’t even tell if he knew of their presence.
Nemo watched as they debated without words whether or not to speak and, if so, who should do the speaking. One (he thought it was Seek, but it was almost impossible to tell, and didn’t really matter) pointed at Nemo and then pointed at his brother. The other shook his head and pointed back at the first.
This was obviously taken as some sort of an attack or an affront because the first one punched the second in the arm. This elicited a swift kick to the shins, which in turn brought a chokehold, which then quickly escalated into a wrestling brawl on Nemo’s floor.
The master spy let the fight go on for several minutes to see if they would come to their senses or perhaps work it out themselves. They didn’t, and it looked like the fight might go on forever. As soon as one got away, the other ran him down and it started all over again. It was truly amazing to watch; all the more amazing because neither one seemed to do any permanent damage to the other.
When the fight got a little too close to Nemo’s chair, he finally spoke up. ‘Boys,’ he said in a soft, but stern voice. ‘Stop. Now!’ He’d learned long ago that yelling never worked with the twins. A quiet reminder of who held the power worked so much better. Fear was an excellent motivational technique.
The twins snapped back to attention as quickly as possible, but one accidentally stepped on the other as they got off the floor, which brought a quick jab to the kidneys once they were both standing. Nemo could see retribution brewing in the other’s eyes, but they stood still, for the moment at least.
‘It is time to get into the game,’ said Nemo. ‘You know what to do?’
‘Yes sir,’ they said in unison.
‘Excellent.’ He handed them a data pad. ‘This map will lead you to utility access tunnel E2S. Gather our new friends and proceed there. I will monitor the situation from here and give you final instructions when all is ready.’
They saluted, turned and walked toward the door. At least three more punches were thrown before they made it into the next room. Nemo sighed. Luckily, they were just added muscle. The others he had hired would do the delicate work.
He was just about to get back to Derindi’s monitor when the whoosh sound from above indicated an incoming message canister. Nemo held out his hand and snatched the canister from the air as soon as it dropped from the tube. He checked the ID indent. It was from Clein.
‘Well, this should be interesting,’ he said, glancing at the message he’d just received from Dutt. ‘Yes, this should prove most interesting indeed.’
9: THE PRICE OF REDEMPTION
‘Good. You’re awake,’ said Armand. He stood over the bound Valtin once again. ‘I was worried I might have drained too much blood. I wasn’t exactly in my right mind earlier.’
Armand wore his Spyrer rig, but the helmet hung on his back, attached to the suit by tubes that connected at various spots around the collar. Valtin looked up at him, a questioning look in his eyes. He tried to sit up, but couldn’t. ‘I feel weak,’ he said.
That’s to be expected,’ said Armand. ‘You’ve lost a lot of blood. Although I guess I wouldn’t say you actually lost it.’
‘You seem to be feeling… better,’ Valtin’s breathing was shallow.
Armand had cleaned up a little once his head had cleared. It had been days since he’d gotten a decent transfusion, and his mania had left little time for personal grooming. His wild hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and he’d managed to scrape several days worth of growth from his face, opting to leave a budding goatee, mostly because of the difficulty of shaving around his mouth with nothing but a dagger.
He looked down at Valtin, who now looked much worse than when they had first met in the square. Armand was worried that his nephew might die from massive blood loss, which would be a shame because he planned to live off Valtin for quite some time. ‘You mean, I’m not a raving lunatic anymore? A side effect of the process, I’m afraid, but with you here to sustain me, I shouldn’t get that bad again.’
Valtin looked even more confused than before. ‘Ahh, youth,’ said Armand. He kneeled in front of his pale, weak nephew. ‘You’ll begin to understand after you’ve lived as long as I have.’
‘You’re not that much older than I.’
Armand laughed. ‘How old do you think I am?’
‘Forty,’ said Valtin. ‘Perhaps forty-five.’
‘Try doubling that,’ said Armand, still laughing, but then the laughter died off as the joke really was on him. ‘I’ll be ninety-two next month, if I can survive that long on the crap that passes for blood down here.’
‘How?’
‘Rejuvenation therapy, of course, you idiot. How young are you anyway?’ Armand didn’t wait for an answer. ‘We are the wealthiest family on the planet. Don’t you think we can afford to keep ourselves alive?’ He stood and started pacing around the edge of the lift, his metal boots clanging on the mesh flooring. ‘Gene therapy, blood transfusions, organ replacements – you name it, I’ve had it. Father too, and even a few of his most trusted aides.’
‘Why?’
‘To live forever, of course,’ said Armand. ‘To rule forever.’ He felt some of his mania returning and took a deep breath to calm his nervous metabolism. ‘Father is over four hundred years old, did you know that? He has ruled the family for centuries, ruled Hive Primus for centuries. And I am the heir apparent, so I get to live forever as well – or at least until father chooses another heir apparent. As long as I stay in the Spire, and don’t piss off Father too much, I am immortal.’
‘Then why did you leave?’
‘I had to, don’t you see?’ Armand stopped pacing and stared at Valtin. Emotions coursed through his body along with the fresh vigour of Valtin’s blood. He was elated and depressed at the same time. Clear in purpose, but troubled by doubts of ever affecting any real change in the status quo. He didn’t know why he was even telling his nephew all of this. Perhaps it was his subconscious telling him that it was time to pass the burden on to someone stronger. Perhaps he just needed to finally cleanse his soul.
‘I had to leave because that place, that House, was killing me.’ He slumped to the floor of the lift, his knees tucked up tight against his chest. ‘I might live forever, but I would end up dead inside, my life purchased on the blood, sweat and tears of others.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Valtin.
‘And I hope that you never will,’ replied Armand. ‘Father calls me “troubled”, but troubled isn’t the half of it. I have seen the devil, Valtin. I see him every day in the mirror and I see him sitting on the throne of Hive Primus. We are tainted, Father and I. Our very blood is tainted by every foul act this family has performed in the name of power; in the name of eternity. There is no hell, you see. Just the Spire.’
‘Then fix it,’ said Valtin. ‘Restore the family’s soul.’
‘It’s too late for me,’ replied Armand. ‘Far too late. My life is inextricably tied to the evil now. I can’t last a day without a transfusion. I can’t seem to last a scavving hour down here on the waste-polluted blood of these Hivers. But I can bring an end to the root of all evil, if I only have enough time.’
Armand jumped to his feet and disappeared into the tunnel next to the lift. When he returned, he was carrying the item that had half the Hive searching for him. ‘I can take him down, Valtin. I can bring Father to his knees with this.’ He held up the
object to show Valtin. It was not much bigger than a grapefruit and slightly oblong, with a short tail coming off the narrow end.
‘What is that?’ asked Valtin. Armand could tell by the horrified look in his nephew’s face that he had already guessed.
‘It’s the Royal Chamberlain’s brain.’
‘But it’s mostly metal.’
Armand held the brain up to look at it. ‘Why yes it is,’ he said. The brain was dull grey with an array of tiny steel wires poking out from all sides. The tail, the brain stem, was housed in an accordion-like, metal tube that twisted and turned like a snake. The stem ended in an intricate set of prongs. ‘This is just the housing, of course. What’s left of old Stiv’s brain, along with a series of cogitae valves, is held safely inside.’
‘The chamberlain was a servitor?’
‘No, just mostly augmetic pieces after all these years,’ replied Armand. He held the brain in his palm and raised it up to his face, trying to imagine Stiv’s face surrounding the five-pound hunk of metal and tissue. ‘Father once told me that Stiv had been with him from the beginning. The only aide he trusted with all of his secrets. And they are all in here. Every dirty deal he ever made. Every enemy – and quite a few “friends” of the family – he ever had killed. Every single credit he ever bilked from the other Houses and failed to report to the tax inspectors. It’s all in here.’
‘If that fell into the wrong hands… ’
‘It would mean the end of Gerontius Helmawr,’ finished Armand.
‘And the entire house,’ added Valtin.
‘Perhaps,’ conceded Armand. He looked at his nephew, lying on the mesh floor of the lift, pale and weak like a baby. ‘But that is the price of redemption.’
‘You won’t live long enough for redemption,’ said Kal Jerico as he pulled himself up onto the lift.
‘Ah, brother,’ said Armand. ‘So good to see you again. And you brought the cousins and a few playthings. Looks like a party.’
‘It’s your going away party, brother,’ said Jerico.
‘Playthings?’ added a female voice behind Valtin. He thought it sounded like the Escher leader from the fight in the square, but he couldn’t see her.
Valtin couldn’t see Jerico from his vantage point either, but he saw movement out of the corner of his eyes and noticed Yolanda, wearing a Malcadon Spyrer rig, pulling herself up onto the lift behind his homicidal uncle.
Valtin felt momentary relief that Kal had found him while he was still alive, and seemed to have brought a small army with him. More and more boots clanked on the metal mesh floor of the lift, but then Armand grabbed him by the collar of his leather coat and lifted Valtin up, holding him like a shield as he retreated toward the tunnel.
Valtin could now see everyone except Yolanda, and he hoped that Armand hadn’t noticed the rigged-up amazon woman behind him.
‘Watch your aim everyone or House Helmawr loses one of its youngest sons,’ said Armand as he waved Valtin’s body around in front of him.
‘He’s of no value to us,’ said Jonas. ‘Cyklus, blast that traitor.’
‘No!’ yelled Kal. He spread his hands and took two steps toward Armand. ‘We can all get out of this alive. Armand, just give Jonas what you stole from your father and everyone goes their separate ways. Nobody else needs to die today.’
‘That wasn’t the deal, Jerico!’ yelled the leader of the Wildcats. ‘He has to pay for the deaths of my girls!’
She rushed toward Armand, firing her shotgun as she ran. Armand swung Valtin’s body toward the charging Escher. His feet smacked into the barrel of her weapon. It discharged, shooting the young Helmawr in the foot. He screamed in pain.
He heard a clatter beneath him and looked down to see the chamberlain’s brain rolling around on the mesh. When he looked back up, Armand had grabbed the Wildcat leader by the neck. He snapped it with a quick flick of his wrist and then threw her body toward Cyklus.
The brute reacted, shooting a missile from his wrist, which exploded upon impact, blowing the dead Wildcat’s body apart. The other two Escher women screamed and readied their weapons. Cyklus re-aimed his wrist rockets. They were now aimed right at Valtin’s head.
Kal jumped into the middle of the stand-off. ‘Wait!’ he called out. ‘Just wait a moment, everyone.’ He took another step toward Armand, his arms still splayed wide. He kept talking, inching forward with every sentence. ‘This is senseless. None of us wants to die today. Let’s talk this out.’
Valtin thought he saw Kal’s eyes dart to a point behind Armand as he continued to talk. ‘You have something we want.’
‘But you have nothing I want,’ spat Armand. He slammed the helmet down on his head. It latched automatically.
‘How about freedom?’ asked Kal. Valtin noticed that the fingers on Kal’s left hand were no longer splayed. There were only three fingers out, then two, then one, then none.
Kal lunged forward. At the same time Valtin heard a noise behind him. He turned to see Yolanda spraying Armand with the web shooter from her borrowed rig. In a moment, Armand’s arms were held fast against the body of his rig. Kal slammed into Valtin, grabbing him around the waist and pulling him from Armand’s grasp. They both fell to the floor of the lift and rolled. Pain shot up Valtin’s arms and legs from the wire bindings.
As Jerico and Valtin rolled to a stop near the tunnel, all hell broke loose behind them. Cyklus shot off two more missiles, which did little more than break Armand free of the webbing. Armand then rushed at Cyklus, who continued to fire missiles wildly. One of them exploded on Leoni’s chest and another sent Yolanda diving for cover as Kal pulled his nephew into the tunnel and propped him against the wall.
When the smoke cleared, Valtin could see that cousin Leoni’s face and part of her skull had been destroyed by the blast. The rig stood for a moment and then crumpled to the floor of the lift in a heap. Yolanda lay sprawled near the edge of the platform. Valtin couldn’t tell if she was alive or dead.
Armand grappled with Cyklus as the Escher women and Scabbs shot at him from behind. Armand went down on one knee and leaned back, pulling Cyklus off balance. As the big brute fell forward, Armand stepped in and lifted him over his head. Cyklus screamed and shot off two more missiles, forcing everyone else to dive for cover. Armand stood and ran toward the edge of the lift platform. At the last second, he heaved Cyklus and his massive rig over the rail. Missiles shot up the shaft, exploding well overhead as Cyklus fell into the blackness.
Kal pulled out his sabre and cut the wire bindings around Valtin’s wrists and ankles. Relief spread through his aching joints, but his foot had gone numb where he’d been shot. Kal then stood and turned toward Armand, who was surveying the carnage he’d wreaked.
‘You whelps have no hope to defeat me!’ came the bellowing voice from inside the domed helmet. ‘I was ripping Underhive mutants in half with my bare hands before any of you were even born.’
‘Kal, wait,’ said Valtin. ‘You can kill him. Armand has a weakness even he doesn’t know about.’
‘What is it?’ asked Kal.
Before Valtin could answer, he saw Jonas rise and face off with Armand. ‘I’m no Underhive mutant, you treacherous scum. See if you can rip me in half.’ He stepped in and swung his monomolecular sword at Armand, who blocked it with his armour-plated arm. The sword bounced off the armour, but took one of the overlapping plates with it.
Armand raised his hand over his head and brought a fist down toward Jonas’s unprotected head. Jonas got his shield up just in time, but the shield was made to reflect energy attacks, not physical ones. The force of the blow crushed through the reflective crystals and shattered the shield around Jonas’s forearm.
Kal seemed to remember something. ‘Scabbs, now!’ he yelled. ‘The device. What are you waiting for?’
Valtin glanced at Scabbs, who had his power cell disruptor in his hand. He pointed it toward the combatants and pushed the button just as Valtin screamed, ‘No!’
Jonas’s rig stopped
moving. He had been between Scabbs and Armand, and the disruptor’s field would seek out the closest power source. Armand grabbed Jonas by the arm, just below his now useless sword, and twisted. The armour and the arm inside snapped. He then casually tossed the Spyrer leader to the side and advanced on Scabbs.
‘Quickly,’ said Kal, ‘What’s his weakness?’
‘His armour has a small crack that runs all the way through,’ Valtin said. ‘Middle of the chest, but it’s tiny…’ Kal was already running off and didn’t hear the rest. ‘…only about the size of your thumb.’
Armand reached Scabbs before Kal. He grabbed the scabby little man around the waist and threw him over the edge of platform. ‘Noooo!’ yelled Kal as he charged in.
Hermod Kauderer sat on the edge of Gerontius Helmawr’s desk in the secure room. He could see the appeal that this little slice of rebellion had for Kal Jerico. Sitting on a person’s desk was belittling yet playful. Normally Kauderer disdained playful, but he was in an odd mood. He even allowed a little smile to escape his lips, but just for a moment.
Of course, he would never sit on the Helmawr’s desk if he were actually in the room. The ruler of the House was currently napping again. This time in the privacy of his own chambers. The stress of this Armand business had taken a toll on his health these past few days, and he had spent an inordinate amount of time asleep. Kauderer suspected that the palace doctors were keeping him drugged, as high stress tended to exacerbate his memory loss.
Kauderer sat on the desk in the dark room all alone, waiting. Everything was in motion. The message had been sent to Nemo. All of Clein’s incoming messages were being monitored and Kauderer had also made sure that the return canister from Nemo had been routed to him first. He now held that canister in his hands and waited.
Finally, he heard voices in the antechamber. Two voices. Captain Katerin and Obidiah Clein. As they walked into the dark room, Kauderer reached out and flipped a switch, turning on the lamps that lined the large desk. Clein stopped for a moment in the shadows, looked back at Katerin, who had shut the door behind them, and then walked forward into the light, a large smile plastered on his face.
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