Knights Of The Black Earth

by Margaret Weis

  He tapped the arming button, but didn't throw it.

  Xris automatically began counting, "Five, four ..."

  Jamil dashed up the stairs, grenade in one hand, firing his beam rifle with the other. "... three, two . "

  Laser blasts and iridium bullets spattered around him. Right when Xris counted "one!" Jamil tossed the grenade, hunkered down.

  The stairwell exploded. A scorching wave of hot plasma hit Xris. He shielded his face with his arm. The sounds of gunfire from above abruptly ceased. Xris was up and running.

  Jamil should have been, but he wasn't. Xris found the major sprawled on the shattered stairs, lying beneath the twisted wreckage of what had once been an iron railing.

  Lasgun in hand, dividing his attention between the landing above and his fallen comrade, Xris lifted the red-hot iron with his metal hand, tossed it clattering down the stairwell. He rolled his friend over.

  Shrapnel and splinters of iron had raked Jamil's left arm, tearing through body armor into flesh and muscle. He was burned, but not badly, mostly on the top of his head. But he was covered in blood. A quick check revealed that at least no main arteries had been severed, his pulse was strong. He groaned. His eyes flickered opened, rolled, then shut again.

  A head encased in a shining black helmet appeared over the railing. Light glinted off the barrel of a needle-gun.

  Xris fired his lasgun, must have hit, for he heard a cry and a foul curse. The head disappeared.

  Fishing out a pressure bandage, Xris ripped it open. He slid the bandage up Jamil's arm, positioned it over the worst of the wounds, hit the activator. The bandage inflated, applying the correct amount of pressure to stop the bleeding, formed a seal over the wound.

  The helmeted head was back. Xris traded his lasgun for Jamil's beam rifle, fired it, then sent up another of his slow missiles.

  "Catch that, you son of a bitch!" he shouted.

  The knight didn't take Xris up on his offer, but the soldier did have guts enough to fire a round before seeking cover.

  Another blast. Xris was on the move, his metal leg kicking aside fragments of concrete and railing. He reached the landing between the second and third floors, finally had a clear view of what he was up against. Black-suited bodies lay in front of the fire door.

  Xris started up the stairs. Two more black-suited figures appeared. He had no more doubts. These were the knights, trained soldiers and assassins. And fanatics.

  Xris hunkered down, fired, missed, fired again. The best thing he could do was keep moving, keep shooting. Smoke filled the stairwell. He would be a difficult target for the knights to see, while Xris's heat-seeking vision could pick them out perfectly.

  Two knights stood guarding the door, backs against the wail. Obviously they had orders to stop Xris or die in the attempt.

  "Glad to oblige," Xris told them.

  Lying prone on the stairs, he opened up with the beam rifle, swept it from left to right and back again. He caught one man across the midriff; his rifle flew from his hands, arced over the broken railing, went clanging down the stairs. The other knight vanished; Xris couldn't see what happened to him. Probably hit, maybe retreated.

  "Waiting for me inside that damn door," Xris muttered. He spit out what remained of the sodden mass that had been the twist, picked himself up, and made a mad dash for the half-closed door.

  He put his metal shoulder to it, burst the door open, beam rifle blasting as he ran.

  He was in a carpeted corridor of a luxury hotel. He took cover in a nearby doorway, ceased firing long enough to take a quick look around. Doors to rooms to his left and right. Most were closed. One, about six meters down the hall, was open. The corridor looked empty.

  Xris took a step forward.

  A knight popped up out of nowhere, directly in front of the cyborg. Xris had no time to think. He just prayed and shot.

  The blast struck the knight at point-blank range. The body literally dissolved in a charred and bloody mass at Xris's feet.

  A man with good reflexes and two good legs could have avoided falling over the corpse. Xris's entire system had to readjust itself, however: neurocomputer responding to electronic impulses from the brain; mechanical side of the body trying to coordinate with the physical. He was struggling to retain his balance when a bullet struck him from behind.

  The bullet lodged in metal, not in flesh, but that didn't make a whole hell of a lot of difference. The impact knocked Xris's cybernetic leg from under him; shorted out all kinds of complicated electronic circuitry.

  He knew, as he fell, that he was dead. Sprawled on the floor, his electronics going wild, he had no way to defend himself. The next shot would blow apart his head or tear open his chest ....

  He heard the shot, was startled not to feel it slam into him. Training and experience made up for the frantic microsecond of panic. He had managed to hang on to the beam rifie. Rolling to his left, he lifted his weapon, prepared to fire, stopped himself just in time.

  Harry stood in the doorway, lasgun in hand. A dead knight lay on the floor in front of him. "Thanks!" Xris shouted.

  "Huh?" Harry returned. "Did you say somethin'?"

  Xris pulled himself to a crouching position, began to assess the damage. LEDs flashed red. He did what he could to jury-rig himself, was making final adjustments when he heard Harry shout.

  Xris looked up quickly. A black-gloved hand flicked out of the open door down the corridor. A grenade rolled toward them.

  Xris couldn'i move.

  Harry had been firing at the hand, now shifted his aim to the grenade. His fourth volley hit it.

  Both men cringed, waiting for the blast.

  The grenade wobbled to a halt, sat there, blinking ominously.

  Figuring he was about as operational as he was going to get, Xris stood up, tried walking. His cybernetic leg dragged, out of sync with his good leg.

  "You stay here, Harry," Xris shouted, loaded two large micro-missiles into his weapons hand. "I'm going on ahead. Keep me covered!"

  "I don't think so," Harry yelled. "You go ahead. I'll keep you covered."

  "Fine. You do that."

  Limping awkwardly down the hall, Xris halted in front of the door, fired the two missiles into the hotel room, then hugged the floor.

  The explosion's back blast washed over Xris in a concussive wave. He'd forgotten to turn off his augmented hearing and for a moment was as deaf as Harry. When bits of debris quit raining down on top of him, Xris shook the rubble off him, stood up.

  Smoke billowed out into the corridor. Fire alarms sounded, squawking loudly. The sprinkler systems activated.

  Harry--backing down the hall, keeping his gun aimed at the fire door--looked up in astonishment as the water hit him in the face. Arriving at the door, he paused a moment, motioned inside with a jerk of his head. "You hear anything?"

  Xris listened. Flames crackled. Someone moaned. But if anyone was waiting in ambush, they were being damn quiet about it. Xris took the lead. He and Harry burst into the room. A black form leaped out at them; metal flashed. The knight--knife in hand--landed on Harry. The two crashed back onto a bed, rolled from there to the floor.

  Xris lost sight of them. He could hear the two scuffling in the life-and-death straggle, but there was nothing he could do to help. His attention was focused on the phony imageintensifier antenna set up out on the balcony.

  The bodies of two "crewmen" lay sprawled beside it. They wore GNN coverails. Either they were knights disguised as GNN personnel or the knights had impressed these two poor bastards into working for them. It didn't matter much now. Tycho's aim was true as ever.

  But though its crew was dead, the antenna was still up and running. Xris started toward it to shut it down, saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

  Dr. Brisbane darted out from behind a curtain, a needlegun aimed straight at his head.

  Xris lunged sideways--or at least that's what he intended to do. His mechanical leg didn't get the message. He tottered, off balance, f
lailing wildly. The needle struck him in the shoulder of his good arm. His sight blurred red momentarily, the pain unbelievable. But the doctor would have been far better advised to aim for Xris's mechanical side.

  As it was, his weapons hand was working perfectly. He aimed, fired.

  The force of the blast blew Dr. Brisbane out the door through the balcony's railing, and over the edge.

  He looked down at his arm, saw it covered in blood. His commlink squawked, demanding his attention. It had, he realized dimly, been squawking for quite a long time now.

  "Xris, can you hear me? Xris, dammit! Are you all right?"

  It was Rowan. She sounded frantic, worded.

  "I'm okay," he said, gritting his teeth against the pain of his wounds. "I'm on the balcony with the negative wave device. Its operators are dead--"

  "But the device is alive and well!" Rowan was panting, breathless, almost screaming at him. "It's almost up to full power. You've got to shut it off now! Xris! Now!"

  Harry was still fighting. Xris could hear the two men, but he couldn't take time to help. He dragged himself to the device, stared at it. Lights were blinking; his augmented hearing was picking up an annoying whining sound. Frantically he searched, but couldn't find anything that vaguely resembled a switch.

  "Turn it off!" Rowan yelled.

  "How?" Xris yelled back.

  A pause. He could hear her consulting with Quong. Xris ground his teeth. Hurry ... hurry ...

  Quong sounded troubled. "The switch should be plainly visible."

  "You come look for it, then!"

  Pain jabbed him. Xris sucked in his breath. Hurry, damn it! ...

  Rowan was back. "My guess is that the device is being controlled from a remote unit. Which could be hidden anywhere--"

  "Oh, the hell with it!"

  Balancing himself on his good leg, Xris swung his mechanical leg like a club. His metal foot connected with the machine.

  The device smashed against the balcony. Sparks flew. Xris fired a blast from his lasgun at the generator. It blew apart. The whining sound the antenna had been making ceased.

  "That's it!" Rowan was jubilant. "You've done it!"

  Xris nodded, too tired and hurting to answer.

  Harry came out onto the balcony, wiping blood from his hands on the front of his shirt. He had a cut down one side of his face; one eye was starting to swell shut. He looked with satisfaction at the wreckage of the device. "Nice job," he said.

  Xris nodded again, pulled out a twist, almost dropped it from his shaking hand.

  "You okay?" Harry asked worriedly.

  "Yeah," Xris lied. "You?"

  "No, thanks," Harry returned loudly. "I don't smoke. What's Tycho up to?"

  Good question. Xris hit the comm. "Tycho? You read me?"

  No response.

  "Tycho?"

  Not even a crackle.

  A cold feeling spread from Xris's stomach up his spine, nudged aside the pain. It was, he realized suddenly, too damn quiet down on the ground. Motioning Harry to move back, Xris took a cautious look over the balcony.

  What was left of Dr. Brisbane was lying on the ground. Tycho stood in the center of a ring of gun barrels, all pointed at him. He was surrounded by soldiers. Xris didn't recognize the uniforms or the insignias. It didn't matter anyway.

  Pivoting on his mechanical leg, he stumped across the balcony.

  "We're going to have company," he announced to Harry.

  "Huh?" Harry cupped his hand over his ear.

  Xris grabbed hold of the big man's arm, pulled him into the room.

  "Xris!" Rowan's voice was frantic, halted Xris where he stood. "We're reading another signature! I repeat, another signature! It appeared practically the moment the main device went down. It's weaker than the first, but that doesn't matter. According to our readings, this device is located in the immediate vicinity of the king!"

  Xris shook his head, sighed. These guys were good. Damn good.

  "Okay, Rowan, you and Quong--"

  "No good, Xris, I'm afraid," the doctor's voice chimed in, steady, calm. "We're not going anywhere. We're surrounded."

  Xris heard ominous sounds, knew what was coming.

  "Yeah," he said. "I know the feeling."

  Heavily armed soldiers, their faces concealed behind helmets, surged into the hotel room. They wore some sort of markings on their body armor, but Xris was too dazed and exhausted to make any sense of them. The soldiers leveled beam rifles at him.

  He raised his hands in the air. Somehow, he had to raise Raoul, warn him, tell him what to do.

  He spoke into the comm. "Raoul--"

  One of the soldiers slugged Xris in the mouth with the butt end of his rifle.

  "Shut down your communications."

  Harry looked to Xris for orders.

  Xris shook his head, shrugged.

  The soldiers clamped restrainers on Harry's wrists, fit two more around his ankles.

  The captain of the troop--the one who had hit him-aimed his weapon at Xris.

  "Now shut yourself down, cyborg."

  No use arguing. Xris didn't bother to tell them he lacked the energy to fight anyhow.

  "Take it slow," the captain warned. "Keep your hands where I can see them."

  Xris reached for his battery pack, touched a button. The LED lights on his arm went out; the entire left side of his body went dead. He could no longer maintain his balance, flopped, helpless, onto a bed.

  The captain regarded him with a look of pity.

  Xris closed his eyes, reminded himself to slug that son-ofa-bitch captain one day. Right now, though, he had other things to do.

  He focused his thoughts. Pictured in his mind a raincoat and a battered fedora ....

  CHAPTER 40

  Assassiner c'est le plus court chemin. Assassination is the quickest way.

  Moliere, Le Sicillien, Scene 12

  "Well, my friend," said Raoul, looking up at the temple VV looming over him, "we are here. And now we are supposed to alert someone to His Majesty's danger and advise them that they should remove him from the vehicle."

  The Little One shook his head gloomily.

  "You are right, my friend. That will not be easy."

  The chariot had set them down on the temple steps, away from the crush of the panicking crowd below, but not much closer to their goal. Up here, they were just two more dignitaries. And the dignitaries were actually causing more trouble than the mobs, for the dignitaries not only needed to be protected, but reassured, coddled, mollified, soothed, and/or placated. The various governors and parliamentarians and vid stars, mingled with priests and priestesses, all lunged about aimlessly, bumping into one another like ships caught in an asteroid field, never going where they were told, always ending up where they weren't wanted.

  The king and queen, ensconced in the Royal Limo, surrounded by armed guards and now by a gathering contingent of media, remained as far from Raoul as any star in the firmament.

  "I could attempt to speak to the Royal Guard, but I have grave doubts that they will believe me," Raoul continued. "In fact, my warning them about the danger to the king would look extremely suspicious. The real Adonian ambassador would be worried about only one thing at a time like this--saving himself."

  The Little One scanned the crowd from beneath the rim of the fedora. He jabbed one small finger in the direction of the Royal Guard.

  Raoul lifted a plucked eyebrow. "Ah, yes. Captain Cato. True, he would undoubtedly recognize us in connection with our erstwhile employment with our erstwhile employer, Snaga Ohme. I have the distinct feeling, however, that such recognition would result in our being immediately incarcerated."

  The Little One, standing on one foot, weighed the force of this argument and was evidently inclined to agree. He crossed his small arms over his chest and shook his head.

  "The king and queen know us and have reason to feel kindly toward us," Raoul continued. "But to reach Their Majesties, we have to penetrate the ranks of the Royal Guar
d, who do not Blow us and who have no reason to feel anything whatsoever about us except that we are, perhaps, better dressed than most people here. Still, we must do what we can. I--"

  The Little One began hopping up and down, pointing frantically.

  Raoul peered through the crowd. He grabbed the Little One's hand in excitement. "General Dixter! I mean--Lord Admiral Dixter. He knows us! And he actually likes us!"

  Raoul pulled his handkerchief from his handbag, began to wave it in the air. "General Dixter! Yoo-hool I mean Lord Admiral Dixter! Xris sent us! We--" The Little One whipped around, trod hard on Raoul's foot. Raoul clapped his hand over his mouth, but it was too late. Dixter had heard the Adonian's shrill cry--as had everyone in the immediate vicinity. And he had heard the name Xris.

  "I forgot--we are wanted men? Raoul also forgot to lower his voice, causing several people near him to stare at him in horror and begin pointing at him.

  Dixter was saying something to two of the Royal Guard, who started toward Raoul, shoving their way through the crowd, politely but firmly elbowing people out of their way.

  "You're right? Raoul gasped. "They undoubtedly think we're the assassins! In which case," he added gravely, "I deem it unlikely that they will honor our request to speak to the king."

  The Little One pulled Raoul to one side, tugging him underneath the maze of scaffolding on which the dignitaries' platform had been built. People surged around them. Raoul tried his best to blend in with the crowd not an easy feat, considering that he outshone the sun.

  He heard his name, recognized Dixter's voice. "Don't leave! You're not in any danger!"

  Raoul paused, half turned, and saw the Royal Guard drawing their lasguns.

  A drawn lasgun in Raou!'s mind--constituted danger. He ducked under a piece of royal purple bunting.

  The guns caught the dignitaries' attention, as well. They swirled away from the guard like leaves in a storm. The news media, catching sight of the action, immediately dashed after the Royal Guard. Even James M. Warden, news anchor for GNN, who had been in a heated discussion with Captain Cato, paused, turned to see what was going on. Warden said something to his cameraman, who lifted the vidcam, focused in on the Royal Guard and Lord Admiral Dixter.