Exodus: Empires at War: Book 7: Counter Strike (29 page)

“The lift is not here,” said one of the
commandos, looking down the shaft.  “And too far to jump.”

“Then we go down the old fashioned way,” said
the Lt. Commander

The commando he was talking to nodded, then
pulled a slender cable from a side bag.  The man pushed the end of the cable
against the plasticrete wall, let the nanites on that end bond, then pulled the
cable to test it.  Satisfied, the man went down the cable, rappelling against
the wall.  A moment later he was joined by another commando, coming down a
second cable.  They hit the roof of the lift and one started to open the top
hatch.  He only had it partially opened when a particle beam sliced through and
came close to spearing him.  Only his augmented reflexes saved him, and the two
commandos blasted through the top of the lift with their own particle beams,
firing until their proton packs were empty.

With a nod one of the commandos lifted the
ruined hatch again while the other threw a stun grenade into the cab of the
lift.  Both men grabbed their cables and pulled themselves up the wall a bit. 
The grenade went off, partially lifting the hatch.  The men jumped back to the
roof, one opening the hatch while the other dropped through.  The second man
followed, and two more rappelled rapidly down to the roof, then into the cab.

The buzz of a couple of particle beams came up
the shaft, and Rykio cursed that he wasn’t down there.  “We’re taking fire,”
said one of the commandos over the com.  “No one hit, but we’re returning
fire.”

Two more commandos headed down the cables,
dropping onto the roof, then through the hatch in swift motions.  The firing
intensified, the angry buzzing noises growing in volume as more weapons added
their fire.

“I’m going down,” said Rykio, grabbing hold of
a cable.

“Wait a moment,” said the Lt. Commander,
putting a hand on the Detective’s shoulder.

“Clear,” shouted out the Chief Petty Officer
from below.

“Go ahead,” said the Lt. Commander.

Rykio nodded and started down the cable. 
Haven’t
done this in quite a while
, he thought as he rappelled down, the cable
feeding through his gloves.  In a moment he was on the roof, then sliding
through the hatch, hoping that the way was truly clear, and he wasn’t walking
face first into enemy fire.

The scorched meat smell hit his nostrils as
soon as his feet hit the floor of the lift.  One commando waited for him, the
others had fanned out across the room, taking cover positions that let me see
and aim down the three openings that led into the chamber.

“There were three of them,” said the Chief,
pointing over into one corner of the room, then another.

“That doesn’t smell quite right,” said Rykio,
gagging slightly.

“They weren’t quite human,” said the Commando. 
“They burned just fine though, once the protons sliced through their outer
covering.”

Rykio nodded and stepped out of the lift.  A
moment later the Lt. Commander and another Commando came down, followed by the
last pair just moments after.

“We’ve stopped a couple of them from getting
through,” came the voice of the SWAT commander over the com.  “They were coming
up some of the tunnels, moving quietly as you please.  Not quietly enough.”

“And prisoners?”

“No, Ishuhi,” said the other man, also a Police
Lieutenant.  “They didn’t seem to be in the mood for being captured.  And I
wasn’t about to risk my men trying to bring them in alive.”

“Fair enough.  Keep an eye out for some more. 
I believe the only way they can get out of here is underground.  Or so they’ll believe.”

“We’re ready to move out, Commander,” said the
senior commando officer.  “Three men down each side tunnel, four down the
larger central one with me.  And we’ll depend on your SWAT for backup.”

“I’ll go up the central one with you,
Commander,” Rykio told the officer.  He turned as something heavy landed in the
lift cab, to see the first of the SWAT heavy suits had arrived.

“Let’s go then,” said the officer to his men. 
“The sooner we get done here, the sooner we go home.  If the attack on the
Emperor isn’t still going on.”

“The Emperor?” blurted Rykio, his eyes
widening.  “He’s under attack?”

“He was when we came down here,” said the Lt.
Commander, nodding.

“Then why aren’t you there?”

“Look, Commander,” said the commando officer,
looking like he would have wanted to be there if possible.  “There are over
twenty thousand people there already, between the Fleet, Marines, Army and
police.  The eleven of us really aren’t enough to make a difference, and it’s
also important to get these bastards.”  The man stopped and looked at his three
men.  “Let’s move out.”

*    
*     *

Prime did not really feel fear as most sentient
beings did.  He knew he was but one cell in the greater organism that was the
Yugalyth.  His end was regrettable, but as long as some of his kind got out of
here, it would be OK.  Unfortunately for him, he had no way of knowing if any
of his progeny had escaped.  His kind did not communicate by radio frequencies
like the Margravi.  Telepathy was a fantasy, as far as anyone knew.  He could
communicate through pheromones when his kind was close.  Otherwise, he had no
means of contacting them, as the use of communications devices, even highly
encrypted ones, would give away the location of their users.

The sound of particle beam weapons came down
the tunnel and through the closed door.  The sound rose, and the Prime knew it
was because the enemy had brought more warriors into the fray.  He knew he
didn’t have any more to commit, as he knew that there was only one outcome
possible for his outer defense.  It would be overwhelmed.

After a few moments the buzzing stopped, and
there was only one explanation for that as well.  Prime waited, a particle beam
gripped in one of its many arms.  The others were grown into claws, weapons it
could hopefully use to rend its enemies.  Unless they were wearing battle
armor, in which case the claws would prove useless.

It took some minutes before it heard something
at the door, moving the manual opening lever after the electronic lock didn’t
open it.  The door swung open, and Prime went into action.

*    
*     *

“Be careful,” said Rykio to the Commando at the
door.  “There’s definitely something behind that door.”  He looked at his HUD,
which showed a chemosense trace coming through the door, which was not airtight.

“Opening,” whispered the Commando, who then
turned the handle and jerked the door open, two other men right behind with
weapons ready.

None of them were ready for the clawed tentacle
that came through the opening and grabbed the Commando around the shoulders.  
The man had time for one brief cry before he was snatched into the room.

“Kill it,” yelled the Commander.  The other two
Commandos raised their rifles, but hesitated to fire with their compatriot in
the way.  Another tentacle came out, reaching for another victim.

Rykio didn’t hesitate.  He jumped through the
door, batting aside the second tentacle, twisting in the air to dodge the
particle beam fired by the one human looking arm on the, thing, that squatted
in the room.  Whatever it was, it was like nothing he had ever seen before.  It
must have massed several tons, with claw tipped tentacles waving around it, two
moving toward him.  There was a head like appendage on the top, and the thing
was dragging the Commando it had grabbed toward a wide orifice with large,
sharp teeth.

First things first
, thought the
Detective, whose mind had gone into combat overdrive, his mental processes
running several times faster than normal.  He fired his particle beam,
vaporizing the arm that held the creature’s one high tech weapon.  The thing’s
particle beam rifle fell onto its mass, and a tentacle tried to grab it,
failing as its clawed digits were unable to find the right grip on the weapon.

The creature pulled the Commando to it and
popped the rating’s head into its eating orifice.  The Commando was wearing a
soft suit of impact armor, including a high collar, and a tactical helmet. 
What he didn’t have was anything protecting his upper neck, and the creature’s
teeth sheered through to decapitate the man.  It tried to chew the head, but
failed because of the tactical helmet, and swallowed the man’s head whole.

“Goddammit,” yelled Rykio, raising his rifle
and aiming at the creature’s head.  He wasn’t sure if that was where its brain
resided, but it was worth a try.  Before he could get off the shot, something
fell from the ceiling, grabbing his rifle and jerking it out of his surprised
hands.  He caught sight of something about the size of a child, malformed, with
no legs, rolling off the mass of the creature and trying to control the rifle. 
Then two tentacles grabbed him and pulled him toward the eating orifice as
well.

*    
*     *

The mobile unit waited until its two brothers
were slaughtered by the SWAT cops before it made its move.  It knew the hunters
had chemosensors, which were probably flooded by the scent of the two Yugalyth
they had just killed.  If it could only move silently enough.  With a slow move
it was through the opening, and into the sewers that ran under the building. 
This was a main, a meter and a half of filthy water and waste running through a
two meter wide channel.

The Yugalyth crawled into the water, careful to
not make a sound.  The gills on its neck extended as soon as it was under, and
it allowed the current to pull it along.  Within minutes it was a kilometer
away.  In no hurry to leave the sludge, it rode the current until it got almost
to the treatment plant, then crawled out and looked for a worker it could take
into the darkness, eventually to impersonate.  It would take time, but it had
time, and eventually it would make more operatives for this planet.  And then
the humans would pay for killing the Prime, as a new Prime went to work.

*    
*     *

Rykio struggled against a creature whose
strength made his augmented abilities look like those of a child.  It pulled
him toward its eating orifice, popped his head in, and bit down.  While the
commandos were wearing only soft skinned impact armor, and had exposed flesh
that could be rended, the Detective was wearing the same kind of combat armor
as that worn by light infantry.  It was hard but flexible alloy, much too tough
to be penetrated by teeth, no matter how large.  The creature’s teeth
splintered as it bit down, and Rykio grabbed the sides of its mouth with his
gauntlets and ripped into the flesh.

The creature started to scream, the sound
coming from another orifice lower down, while the eating orifice writhed in
agony.  The smell coming through his nostrils, brought in by the openings in
his helmet, was strong and sickening, and the reason the creature was in
agony.  The tentacles whipped him through the air and against the hard wall,
where he fell stunned to the floor.

Now he could hear the hum of particle beams, a
continuous sound, competing with the hiss of vaporizing flesh.  Rykio looked up
to see the creature in a frenzy, tentacles waving, first one, then another
seared off at the root.  He backed himself into the corner, pulling his mag
rail pistol from its holster and adding his fire to that of the commandos.

Suddenly the creature, or what was left of it,
stopped moving, its remaining tentacles flopping onto its body.

“Cease fire,” yelled the Lt. Commander.

“Continue to fire,” yelled Rykio.  “It might be
bluffing, and I want this thing dead.”

The other officer acknowledged, and the beams
started eating into the creature again, which screamed and started lashing
again with its remaining tentacles.  After a few more minutes, and a change of
proton packs for all involved, the creature and all of its half sized minions,
picked off as they tried to get at the commandos, were broiled, what hadn’t
been vaporized.

We got it
, thought the Detective Lieutenant,
shaking his head. 
But we didn’t get it in time, did we?

Chapter
Nineteen

War should be the only
study of a prince. He should consider peace only as a breathing-time, which
gives him leisure to contrive, and furnishes as ability to execute, military
plans.

Niccolo Machiavelli

CAPITULUM, JEWEL.
DECEMBER 12
^TH
, 1001.

Sean reacted immediately as soon as he saw the
flash of red out of the corner of his eye, well before the sound of the beams
reached his ears.  He grabbed Jennifer by the arm and flung her back into the
church, then ducked down and tried to get a bead on whoever was attacking him. 
A half dozen of the officers who had formed the archway were down, one missing
his entire head and torso.  The sickening smell of scorched flesh reached his
nostrils, and he knew that the odor was made up of particles of people he knew.

Beams were coming down all around, a dozen of
them, ripping through the people nearby.  Citizens were screaming, trying to
push away from the crowd in a panic.  Marines in heavy armor were flying over
the crowd, getting themselves and their better protection between the shooters
and the Emperor.

He looked back to see Jennifer trying to get
out the door and to him.  She was cradling her left forearm, and he was pretty
sure that he had broken it when he threw her. 
Better that than letting you
stand here and get killed
, he thought, looking in approval as Cornelius grabbed
the new Empress and carried her back from the entrance. 
She’ll be safe with
him if with anyone
, he thought with approval, then turned his attention
back to the immediate threat, the people shooting at him, and hitting his
people.

Something exploded high up in the air, followed
by another.  Over a hundred armored soldiers boosted into the sky, some on a
direct path toward, something.  The others forming into a shield to protect
those below.  Particle beams came lancing down, most hitting the electromag
fields of heavily armored soldiers, all of whom were now firing back.

“What’s going on, Colonel?” asked Sean, running
in a crouch toward a regimental commander in heavy armor who had established an
open air command post on the top of the steps.

“Your Majesty.  Some men in combat armor flew
over the plaza with their full stealth packages on.  We didn’t even know they
were there until they opened fire.  Stingships got a couple, and my soldiers
got the rest.”

“All of them?”

“I think so, your Majesty.  But we can’t be
sure right now.  It would be better if you and the Empress didn’t try to fly to
your reception until we do a complete sweep of the area.  If they have
missiles?”

The Colonel didn’t have to complete that last
sentence.  If someone was hanging in the sky, stealthy, unnoticed, they could
bring down a transport with a missile.

Sean looked out over the plaza, at the clumps
of people who had been killed or wounded, emergency personnel clustered around
them.  He felt the shock of the attack finally coming over him, his hands
shaking as he thought about what almost happened to himself and his bride.

“It might be a good idea to just cancel the
reception, your Majesty,” said the Colonel, retracting his faceplate and
looking at his Monarch.

“Not on your life, Colonel,” said the Emperor,
shaking his head.  “That reception is more for our people than for myself and
the Empress.  They deserve the celebration, not the cloud this act will cast
over the event.  If I give in to terrorists, they have already won.”

Sean could see the combination of concern and
admiration on the officer’s face.  He couldn’t really care less about the
admiration.  He was not doing this to look the hero, but because he had meant
what he said.  They could not postpone things because of acts of terror.  He
looked at the closest clump of casualties, cringing as he saw the half body of
a child. 
We’re lucky they didn’t deploy small yield nukes
, he thought.

“It’s clear, your Majesty,” said the Colonel.

“Did you get them all?”

“We’re still not sure about that, your
Majesty.  Some may have gotten away.  But we’re sure there are no more in the
area.  Complete close range, full power sensor scans have been run over all the
nearby buildings up to ten thousand meters.”

And why wasn’t that done before the attack
, thought the Emperor,
holding back the words. 
Because we didn’t expect such an attack like this,
we were lax, and now we paid the price.

“I must check on the Empress,” said Sean,
getting up from his crouch and running into the church.

*    
*     *

Cornelius had been quite a bit back from the
Emperor and Empress when they had walked through the door.  As far as he was
concerned, his part in the ceremony was over.  He and his family were expected
to be guests at the reception, both the public one at the nearby civic center,
and the private one at the Palace.

His enhanced hearing had no problem picking up
the angry buzzing of particle beams just outside the church, along with the
screams and shouts of people.  The Ranger didn’t know what was going on, but it
didn’t take a genius to realize that there was trouble out there, and his
friends were right in the middle of it.

A woman came flying through the entrance,
instantly recognizable by her red hair and light blue ankle length dress.  She
hit a man, hard, both going down, and Cornelius knew where he needed to be.

The Ranger shoved people out of the way as he
pushed through the crowd.  A few tried to shove back, and found themselves
losing to his enhanced strength.  Most glanced at him, and realized that he was
going where he was going no matter what they wanted.  Some higher ranking
people started to protest, but he ignored them as he fought his way to
Jennifer.

The Empress was getting back to her feet,
helped up by some of the men nearby.  She was cradling her forearm, which was
hidden under the sleeve of her dress, but the angle of which foretold a bad
break.  She turned back to the door and started forward, just before Cornelius
grabbed her gently by the shoulders.

“He wants you in here, your Majesty,” said
Cornelius in her ear.  “He wouldn’t have thrown you in here like that if he
didn’t think it was important to get you under cover.”

“But, he’s out there,” she said, her voice
quivering.

“He’s a warrior, and he has warriors around
him.  Let’s get out of this crowd, and I’ll get someone to look at your arm. 
Just come with me, Jennifer.”

She nodded and let him pick her up.  The Ranger
moved into the church, gently pushing past anyone who got in the way.  A lot of
people were crowded near the exit, many of them military, men and women trying
to get out of the church to help their Monarch, and just getting in the way.

Cornelius looked around, trying to find a quiet
place to take the Empress.  He found a pew in an alcove that was set aside for
small services that was empty and led the way into it, sat her down, and
unbuttoned the sleeve that was over her forearm.  He glanced for a moment at
the statue of the saint, he wasn’t sure which one, looking down on them from
the wall of the alcove.

“That’s a bad break,” he said, looking at the
bent forearm.

“I should make that diagnosis,” she said,
wincing as he touched the arm.

“And what diagnosis would you give,” he said,
as he put a pain patch on her neck taken from the small med kit he always kept
with him.

“It’s really fucked,” she said as the pain
medication rushed into her system.

“Not as fucked as it’s going to be,” said a
sibilant voice from the entrance of the alcove.

Cornelius looked up to see a nondescript man
standing there, a chemical pistol in his hand pointing at the Ranger.  “If you
move I will shoot you,” said the man, looking into Cornelius’ eyes.  “Then I
will shoot her.”

“And if I don’t move?”

“Then I shoot her, and leave,” said the,
creature.

For some reason Cornelius didn’t think the
man
was human.  It was just something in the tone of his voice.  Like he had tried
to mimic a human being, but was not far enough along in the process. 
A
shifter
, thought Cornelius, his mind moving into overdrive, his thinking
speed tripling. 
How in the hell did it get in here?
 He thought he knew
how.  Guests were scanned for weapons, and given cursory ID when they entered
the church.  But with hundreds of thousands of people coming through the doors,
there wasn’t time to give everyone a complete scan, especially any of the new
procedures.  How he got the gun in was another matter, and one he would worry
about later.

That’s not right
, thought Cornelius,
his mind working down several paths at once. 
If he hasn’t completed his
change into someone well known, he never would have gotten through.
  Then
the time for thinking was over.

The gun shifted, the shifter taking aim at the
Empress, and Cornelius made his move.

The hand that was on the seat, resting on a
hymnal, grabbed the book and threw it at the gunman.  It sped through the air
at high velocity and hit the gunman in the head.  Cornelius cursed.  He had
aimed for the gun, but in the stress of the moment had thrown it too hard, with
not enough follow through.  The gunman shifted his weapon and shot at
Cornelius, also missing through a combination of the Ranger moving too fast,
and his vision blurred from being hit in the head by the heavy book.

Cornelius needed a weapon against something
whose capabilities he really couldn’t guess.  His pistol was simply ceremonial,
it didn’t even have a magazine inserted.  Which left him with only…

Thinking was action, and his right hand grabbed
the sword grip on his left side, while his left hand pushed Jennifer down onto
the pew.  The sword swished out of its scabbard as the gunman aimed and fired
again, striking Cornelius in his left shoulder.  The impact armor of his
uniform stiffened, enough to stop a low velocity round.  Not enough to stop the
high velocity pellet that came out of the gun.  Still, enough to slow it down,
so it only ripped through his shoulder like a normal bullet, and not the body
destroyer it was made to be.

The Ranger grunted in pain and brought his
sword up, then down, onto the wrist of the creature’s gun hand.  The sword was
ceremonial as well, with no edge, and came down like a club on the wrist.  The
creature hissed, and the gun arm dropped, but he retained control of the
weapon, and started bringing it back up immediately.

There was only one thing the Ranger could do. 
He lunged forward, using the point, which, while still not the duty edge of a
real weapon, was enough, with the strength of the Ranger behind it, to push
through the throat of the creature, coming to a stop against the spine.  The
eyes of the creature went wide, its breath rattled, but it still brought its
weapon up to aim at the Ranger once again.  Cornelius pushed harder, hoping to
push through the spinal column and into the cord, but the bone was too tough.

Maybe I saved the Empress
, was the thought of
his sped up mental processes as he waited for the round that was going to end
his life.  The sound that came was not what he was expecting, more like the
hissing spit of a mag rail pistol, and the head of the creature exploding in
front of him was definitely not what he was expecting.

A huge figure appeared behind the fallen body
of the assassin.  A dracocentauroid, holding a huge mag pistol, lips curled
back, revealing his carnivore’s teeth.

“Lord T’lisha,” said Cornelius, recognizing the
Imperial Minster of Security.  “Thank you.”

“Thank you, young man,” rumbled the large
sentient.  “It is to my shame that such as this made his way in here in the
first place.  I could not bear to think that he might have killed my Empress.”

Cornelius nodded, then sat down, feeling a
little light headed from blood loss, his sword sliding out of the shifter’s
throat.  People were around him in an instant, including several doctors, one
to treat him, one to treat the Empress.  Cornelius closed his eyes, knowing
that everything would be alright.

*    
*     *

Sean glared down at the creature that lay dead
on the floor, sans head, which was missing thanks to the impact of a fifteen
millimeter round from his Minister of Security’s personal weapon.  The neck
told the story.  The
man
was nothing such.  It was a Yugalyth, plain and
simple.

“How in the hell did it get in here?” asked the
Monarch, looking at his newly wed spouse, lying on the pew, her arm being put
in a soft splint.  The bone had been set back into place, after a nanite pain
block had been inserted.  He felt shame at the thought that he had been the
cause of that injury.  That it had been sustained through his getting her
quickly to safety, before a particle beam reached from the sky and vaporized
her entire lovely body, did not matter.  He had caused the injury, and in his
mind, he was totally at fault.

“We found where he was hiding,” rumbled Lord
T’lisha, a decidedly uncomfortable expression on his long snouted face.   “In
an opening on the base of that statue over there.”  He pointed to the figure of
another saint.  “A human couldn’t have fit.  Not even a Malticoran.  But those
things can dislocate, and even bend bones.