At Empire's Edge (26 page)

The comment was supposed to elicit a chuckle from the rest of the men and did, as Livius backed his way into the vertical shaft, and felt for the first rung of the rusty ladder with his right foot. Then, having tested the metal bar by putting his weight on it, Livius disappeared. Quatri went next, followed by Usurlus, who soon found himself standing on an elevated walkway above a fifteen-foot-wide channel through which noisy water was rushing downhill toward Lake Imperium. It was dirty stuff, runoff from the streets mostly and heavily polluted by every sort of contaminant imaginable.

Not sewage, however, not very much of it anyway, since Solace had a separate system for that. So while sour, the odor wasn’t as bad as it might have been, so long as Usurlus remembered to breathe through his mouth. Livius and the other bodyguards pulled back against the wall as Lucia Ovidius arrived to greet him.

“Good morning, sire,” Lucia said cheerfully. “That’s the Solace River running past us below. It carries the snowmelt down from the mountains and runs full during the spring. But, with winter coming on, the water level is relatively low right now. And since the river is paved over, most of the city’s residents are only vaguely aware that it’s here. All of which makes it a relatively safe place to meet. Please follow me.”

 

 

It was dangerous to fly over The Warrens, especially during the day, and especially at low altitude. Because many of the citizens below were armed with government surplus weapons and rather liked taking potshots at government vehicles. One had been shot down two months earlier, a fact of which Pasayo was uncomfortably aware as the air car’s boxy shadow rippled over roofs made of tile, metal, and sheets of blue plastic. There were elevated gardens, too, where people stood and shaded their eyes, the persistent thrumming noise alerting them to the presence of the air car above. As Pasayo looked down children waved, a bullet pinged off the underside of the hull, and the rifle’s dull report echoed back and forth between the buildings below. That caused a flock of birds to burst out of a rooftop shack and explode into the air, where they wheeled as if all part of the same organism.

But dangerous as an airborne trip over The Warrens might be, it beat the hell out of trying to follow Usurlus and his bodyguards through the teeming streets below. And why should he? Given the fact that tiny bits of electronic “lint” had been attached to the Legate’s clothes, including the tunic he’d chosen to wear that very morning. The bugs required no power source, and therefore didn’t produce any heat or electronic signature, other than the so-called bounce-back that occurred whenever they were pinged. Which was how the technician riding in the back of the air car had been able to track Usurlus to a spot directly below the air car. But all good things must come to an end, just as Pasayo’s mother had warned, and such was the case now as the technician spoke. “We lost him, sir! He was there—now he’s gone.”

Pasayo swore and looked back over his shoulder. “How? Why?”

“I don’t know for sure,” the tech replied honestly, “but there are two possibilities. Either he identified the reflector and destroyed it, or he went underground. Our signals can’t penetrate more than six inches of solid duracrete.”

“I’m betting on the second possibility,” Pasayo replied thoughtfully. “Stay on it—maybe the bastard will surface.”

 

 

It was dark and gloomy under the streets of Solace. What light there was came from the torch that Lucia held—and the coin-sized shafts of sunshine that slanted down through the drain holes in the metal covers above. They made bright circles on the walkway below.

As Lucia led the way, Usurlus noticed that they were walking slightly uphill, which suggested they were headed west, toward the foothills. It was too dark to make out the details, but old storefronts could be seen along the way, most of which had been boarded up. But a few doors hung open, inviting both the adventurous and foolhardy to enter, and explore the darkness within.

Judging from the fresh graffiti on the walls, the well-maintained fish traps that spanned the river, and the occasional remains of a campfire, there were people who frequented the underground cavern on a regular basis. But if any were present on that particular day, they saw the party of seven men and a woman as a threat, and quickly made themselves scarce.

After a brisk ten-minute walk, the tunnel widened and opened up into what had once been a small lake. A four-foot-high waterfall marked the outfall and made a continual roaring sound as they passed it. The ceiling arched high overhead, where a steady supply of water was leaking through cracks in the lid, thereby producing cascades of localized “rain.” And, thanks to groupings of still-functional solar tubes, shafts of dusty sunlight slanted down to highlight some of the ever-expanding circles that the “raindrops” made as they hit the surface of the water.

Thick columns had been installed to support the weight of the city above, and judging from the cracks that were visible some were in need of maintenance.
Still another problem that I’ll have to be deal with,
Usurlus thought to himself, as he eyed the storefronts around the lake. Their empty windows stared toward the artificial island at the center of the water as if waiting for something to happen. Twin bridges linked the island with the walkways to either side. They were supported by a series of graceful arches and hung with fanciful sculptures.

The group paused to look out over the lake. “That’s where we’re going,” Lucia said, as she pointed at the island and the domed pavilion that sat atop it. “As you can see, all of this was at ground level back when Dantha was first settled. But, due to the scarcity of land between the mountains and Lake Imperium, Procurator Decius built a lid over this lake about 150 years ago. It was maintained as an underground shopping area for a while but, without the necessary maintenance, eventually became a center for crime and was sealed off from the streets above. Come on. The resistance leaders are waiting.”

It was a short walk to the point where they could cross what Usurlus judged to be the southern bridge. From there they followed Lucia out onto the island, where five men and a woman were waiting to greet him. They looked uncertain at first, but that changed when Usurlus revealed his
true
face, and stuck the wad of pseudoflesh into one of his pockets. None of the resistance leaders had ever met a Procurator, much less a Legate, and hurried to execute awkward bows and one of the worst curtsies Usurlus had ever witnessed. But he was careful to keep a straight face as he acknowledged the honors, memorized each person’s name, and turned on every bit of charm he had. Because if he was to carry out his mission successfully,
and
survive, it would take every bit of help they could give him.

In the meantime, Livius posted guards halfway along both of the bridges, ordered two of his men to patrol the perimeter of the island, paying special attention to what was going on in the water, and fervently wished that Vedius Albus was present to advise him. Because at the moment his charge was trapped on an island, with 360 degrees of exposure to worry about, and two very fragile lines of retreat! It was hard to imagine a worse situation—and Livius had no desire to do so.

The next hour was spent going over the many grievances the opposition leaders had, plans for a demonstration of how strong the resistance was, and the need to show a unified front on Founder’s Day. For even though the various groups represented at the meeting were united in their hatred of Nalomy, plenty of issues divided them, and Usurlus had to make a number of extravagant promises to secure their support. And that was what he was doing when the militia arrived, a shot rang out, and the high-velocity slug blew the top of a resistance fighter’s head off, thereby spraying Lucia with warm blood. The meeting was over.

 

 

Luck always plays an important role in any military endeavor, and Pasayo had been lucky. Having lost contact with the tiny reflector attached to the tunic that Usurlus was wearing, the Centurion ordered the air car’s pilot to crisscross the city, in hopes of pinging the Legate again. The effort had been fruitless at first, but then, just as the officer was beginning to wonder if he should give up, the technician riding in the back of the air car issued a whoop of joy. “I have him, sir! He’s right below us. The signal is intermittent but static.”

Was Usurlus on the street? Or deeper underground? Pasayo had a hunch that it was the latter, and having made use of a handheld comp to access files stored in the palace, he knew he was right. Because the buildings directly below him were resting on a duracrete lid, a barrier thick enough to interfere with electronic signals. And below the lid was the cavernous space that he and his men had to clean out every few months lest criminals filter in to occupy it. The perfect place for a clandestine meeting.

The rest was a matter of good communications, speedy reaction times, and relentless efficiency—all things that Pasayo was good at. The result was that he and a team of specially trained commandos were able to find a convenient route down and into the underground world quite quickly. Lookouts and sentries were positioned to stop an incursion, but Pasayo and his team took them out with silent efficiency, and arrived on the west side of the lake only forty minutes after the operation had been launched.

Then, having called upon his snipers to “Kill everyone except Legate Usurlus,” it was time to sit back and watch the show. The marksmen were in position and had permission to fire. There was a loud
crack
, followed by an echo, and the
tinkle
of an empty casing landing on duracrete. The first shot produced a clean kill. A good omen on any kind of hunt. It was exhilarating to be back in action.

 

 

Having been shot at before, Usurlus hit the floor within seconds of the first shot, and was immediately pinned in place by Livius. “Sorry, sire,” the ex-legionnaire said apologetically, as he placed a bony knee on the Legate’s left shoulder. “But we can’t have you up and running around just yet!”

Then, to everyone else, the Section Leader yelled, “Keep your heads down! Bridge guards pull back!” And, having turned toward Quatri: “Assemble the rifle. I want some outgoing fire on those bastards!”

Usurlus had managed to roll out from under the knee by that time and held up a hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll stay down. Rifle?
What
rifle?”

Meanwhile there was a steady
crack
,
crack
,
crack
as at least two high-powered rifles blew divots out of the dome, the arches that supported it, and the rails on both bridges. Livius grinned wolfishly. “We couldn’t carry a lot of heavy weapons without giving ourselves away—but we had one rifle in our pockets!”

While Livius and his men were armed with pistols, two each in some cases, Usurlus knew their handguns had been hidden. But now, in response to the order from Livius, his subordinates were pulling out all manner of parts from their pockets and passing them to Quatri, who was in charge of putting them together. Usurlus noticed that the rifle’s long black barrel, possibly the most difficult component to conceal, had been hidden within a hollowed-out walking stick.

There was a series of
click
s as the pieces went together, followed by a distinctive clacking as Quatri pushed the first cartridge into the breech, at which point he was ready to fire. It took the better part of a minute to elbow his way forward, push the weapon’s barrel out between a couple of balustrades, and make some final adjustments. At that point Quatri peered into the telescopic sight, took a deep breath, and let it out. The trigger gave slightly, the firing pin snapped forward, and there was a loud
bang
as the rifle fired.

 

 

The sniper to Pasayo’s left had just cranked another round into the chamber of his weapon, and was about to fire again, when his head jerked backward. A fraction of a second later a mixture of blood and brains sprayed the wall behind him. He slumped sideways as the rifle clattered to the pavement.

Pasayo swore as the body half fell on him and he worked to push it away. The bastards weren’t supposed to have any long guns god damn it! So where had the weapon come from? One of the resistance leaders most likely. . . . Not that it mattered, as the teams who were supposed to force their way across the bridges yelled bravely and ran into a hail of bullets. Small stuff mostly, fired by the pistols that Usurlus’s bodyguards were carrying, but interspersed with the occasional rifle round, each of which flew true.

But even as two of his men were plucked off their feet, Pasayo was confident that his forces would win in the long run, because the resistance leaders were trapped,
and
they were outnumbered. Would he be able to protect Usurlus the way Nalomy wanted him to? Maybe, but if Usurlus went down, Pasayo would blame the Legate’s death on the fog of war. And while disappointed, Nalomy would find a way to deal with it, because dead is dead. And ultimately that was the fate she had in mind for Usurlus. So Pasayo fumbled for the rifle that lay to his left, brought the weapon up, and began looking for someone to kill.

 

 

While both sides continued to exchange fire, Livius was holding an impromptu strategy session on the floor of the domed pavilion. “It’s the only way,” Livius insisted, as he examined each face. “And we need to do it
now
, before those bastards can bring reinforcements to bear, and really pound the hell out of us.”

“Okay,” Usurlus agreed reluctantly. “You’re the expert. I’m game. How ’bout everyone else?”

Lucia and the other resistance leaders knew without being told that their lookouts and sentries were dead. That left them with no protection other than what Usurlus and his bodyguards could provide. So there was very little choice. One by one they nodded.

“All right,” Livius said approvingly. “Slip into the lake one at a time. Stay underwater as long as you can and be sure to put the island between you and the people who are shooting at us. Then, once you go over the falls, let the current carry you out of sight. At that point it will be safe to climb out, make your way back to the surface, and regroup at a later date. Understood?”