Imperial Guard (22 page)

“Now, the first order of business is to kill Timothy Brogan,” Kepec resumed. “Carl.” He looked at his elder son. “I want you to be in charge of that. Use your imagination. And make absolutely certain nothing can be traced back to us!”

Carl nodded his assent, arms still crossed.

“But an assassination plan is not enough. We need some contingencies in the event of the unexpected. For one thing, I think we ought to put Josh through a rigorous hand-to-hand combat training refresher course.”

“Hey! I don’t need that. I’m already good enough to take that army brat. And anyway . . . Carl’ll cook his goose for sure.”

Kepec raised his finger and shook it back and forth slowly. “No arguments, Josh. We can’t take any chances. We need you in top physical shape and at the peak of your skills. I will hire you a trainer and you
will
work out every day until further notice.”

Josh groaned and dragged his hand across his face. Carl smiled. Then his face became thoughtful as he remembered something.

“I just thought of something else that might be helpful. One of our moles overheard Mizpala and Brogan talking about a girl Brogan wanted to locate. She was part of that med team from his planet of Cirrus that was tried for conspiracy. They were stripped of their citizenship and dumped in the lower levels somewhere. Let’s see . . .” He fingered his lower lip in thought, then snapped his fingers. “Adriel Swartz was her name.”

“So what?” scoffed Josh. “How’s that going to help us?”

“Quiet!” snapped Kepec. “Undoubtedly this Adriel means something to him. This could be a real break for us. If we were able to locate her before Brogan does, we could hold her and use her as leverage against him. That might be even more useful than killing him. Unfortunately, we can’t put all our eggs in one basket.”

He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “We will proceed with all three plans. Josh, you will train to the peak of your ability. Carl, you will devise a plan to assassinate Brogan. Meanwhile, I will assign men to locate this Adriel Swartz. Somewhere along the line, something will succeed, and our worries will be over.”

*

“Minister Mogul’s quick discovery of the assassin was excellent work, was it not, Mizpala?”

“Indeed it was, your Excellency.”

Henry was in great spirits because of the foiled assassination plot. He was ready to celebrate and eager to be magnanimous. Brogan and Mizpala exchanged knowing grins. Ironically it looked like Mogul’s cover-up would work in their favor this night
—something Mogul certainly had not planned on.

“Yes, yes.” Henry continued to exude gratitude. “What emperor could be more blessed than to have two such fine ministers as Mogul and yourself, Mizpala? You have both served me well. Albert!” he called as he turned his head. “More wine!”

The servant hastened to his master with the requested beverage, then retired to an unobtrusive place to await further orders. Mizpala took his opportunity.

“Your Excellency, I have brought Major Brogan with me this evening to ask you a favor.”

“Certainly, Mizpala. What is it?” Henry made himself more comfortable in his easy chair.

“As you know, Major Brogan is a decorated war hero and comes highly recommended by General Darkhow, presently serving on Peru II.”

“Yes, I remember. I am pleased with how well the campaign is going there, Mizpala.”

“Thank you, your Excellency.” Mizpala nodded his head in appreciation of the compliment. “Major Brogan has proved himself loyal to the Emperor both on the field of battle and off, most recently in his report of the thwarted assassination attempt.”

“Yes. I have yet to thank you properly for that, Major Brogan. Have you any request that I might grant by way of reward?”

“Your Excellency”
—Brogan also nodded his head—“I seek no reward for my services. Your thanks is payment enough.”

“You can see, Excellency, why I myself have such a high estimate of this young man,” Mizpala interjected before Henry could respond.

“I do, indeed.” Henry beamed at the two guests.

“My request is this, Excellency . . . that you appoint Major Timothy O. Brogan as commander of the new Internal Affairs Division of the Imperial Guard. I know of no one better suited for the position. He is an outsider and therefore has no loyalties to anyone but you. He has no ambition but to serve the Emperor. And he is also high in integrity and skilled in command. I recommend him for your consideration.”

Henry gestured at Brogan. “Mizpala, your recommendation and confidence are enough for me. So be it. The papers will be drawn up for the transfer tomorrow. Let’s toast the occasion.”

He snapped his fingers and glasses were provided the guests. After the toast, Mizpala spoke up again.

“There are only a couple more things we ought settle before the Major’s appointment is made official, your Excellency.” Henry raised his eyebrows and waited for Mizpala to continue. “First is the matter of Major Brogan’s rank. I feel it is only proper that the commander of the IAD of the Imperial Guard have a rank of at least colonel. Therefore, I suggest a promotion to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel.”

Brogan looked at Mizpala in astonishment.

“Excellent suggestion, Mizpala. No problem. It will be done. What is your other concern?”

“Well, I feel that the wisest course of action is to give Major
—uh, Colonel—Brogan a free hand to recruit the individuals to be placed under his command. He must have the utmost confidence that the people in his department can be trusted. And that can only be accomplished if he is given the power to choose them himself. This is an extremely dangerous assignment, your Excellency. Colonel Brogan will certainly be targeted for elimination, and we must give him every advantage at our disposal.”

“Another excellent suggestion, Mizpala. I see nothing wrong with that. Now . . . enough of business. Let’s enjoy ourselves for awhile and forget the troubles that surround us.”

The sinister-looking object inched along the corridor where the ceiling met the wall. Its assigned task required that it remain unseen, so it took great care to be unobtrusive. It made no sound that could be heard by the human ear. Its floating movement down the corridor was barely perceptible. But it had plenty of time. It could wait.

Shaped like an ancient hypodermic needle, it was no instrument of healing. It had a mission of calculated destruction, and it was patient. It had no compassion and no regret, and it would not stop until it accomplished its objective.

Its impersonal preprogrammed instructions were leading it to the optimal point of attack. When there, it would bide its time. It sensed nothing in its programming that required haste. So it would wait quietly. It did not get tired of waiting. It would hover in an unfrequented place, and when the time was right, it would strike. And that would be the end of it.

*

For the next two weeks Brogan was busy. The first thing he did was secure a leave of absence and arrange a temporary assigned duty for John Manazes. If he could trust anybody, it was Manazes, and Brogan wanted him on his staff during this critical first few months. Together they discussed who else they should recruit for the new IAD of the Imperial Guard.

Brogan decided that the wisest course of action was to select from among offworld candidates
—better still, offworld candidates who had good reason to resent the Trading Company. Brogan also wanted to recruit only single soldiers since they did not have a wife or children on Earth who could be threatened. The biggest problem was that their choices were limited to soldiers who were stationed on Earth or who were due in during the next couple of weeks.

So far they had recruited only four men and one woman. But Brogan wanted to get the IAD up and running as soon as possible, and to do that they needed more personnel. The sooner they put a crimp in the Moguls’ plans the better.

Manazes and Brogan were bent over a table, discussing a list of suspects. They were trying to determine who to go after first. Once that decision was made, they would apprehend the individuals one at a time, question them, and try to obtain permission from the justice department to administer truth scans. That was their job—to apprehend, to question, and to build a case. Then they were to hand everything over to the justice department for prosecution.

Both men wore the traditional uniform of the Imperial Guard. Their white boots and belts contrasted sharply with their dark scarlet body suits and capes. Their white helmets had been discarded on a nearby table.

Far from merely ornamental, the uniform of an Imperial Guardsman served a plethora of practical functions. The helmet was constructed to protect the wearer from high-level radiation and a concussion blast of up to ten Gs, as well as turn aside light laser fire. A light-sensitive, polarized face shield slid into place automatically in response to bright sunlight or a laser flash, but it could also be lowered manually. Besides a communicator, the helmet also contained a light beam, an automatic personal radar field (PRF)—which emitted an alarm when penetrated, alerting its wearer to potential hostile intent—night vision, a distance targeting device, and a thermal locator.

The wide belt carried hand weapons and a pouch for personal items. The waist-length, white-filigreed cape contained pockets in the inner lining for emergency supplies and strategic items. It too was lined with material calculated to turn aside light laser fire and protect against a ten-G blast. Each uniform was equipped with a personal emergency distress signal (PEDS) that was activated should the wearer be injured.

As Brogan bent over the list, he was thinking about how overwhelming this job was going to be. The list of suspects came from First Minister Mizpala. He had provided a great deal of assistance, and Brogan was thankful for it. Mizpala had not been idle the last few months. He had already laid a lot of groundwork for the new IAD before it was even formed.

Being a policeman of sorts was new to Brogan, and he was not sure he liked it. However, he kept telling himself that it was a vital job and that he was working to implement justice and to improve society. But he was also chafing to look for Adriel and get her out of the lower levels before anything happened to her. His responsibility to the Emperor conflicted with his personal desires, and it was eating at him. He was finding it hard to concentrate.

He straightened up with a sigh. “Let’s take a break, Manazes. I don’t know about you, but I need one.” Brogan stretched his unencumbered arm above his head.

“OK by me.”

“I’m going to go get some cake and coffee. Want to come?”

“No, thanks, Colonel. Think I’ll just flop down here and get some shuteye.”

“Suit yourself. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Brogan walked out of his office at the Imperial Palace and turned down the corridor to head for the cafeteria. He decided not to use the telestrip. He felt a need to stretch his muscles, and the walk would do him good.

As he turned a corner he saw something tiny hovering in the hallway. In a flash it was streaking toward him. His finely honed reflexes were all that saved him. Without time for thought, he jerked up his biopack in a blocking motion in front of him. The projectile struck it and bounded off at an angle. It came to a stop about four meters away. It was then that Brogan saw what it was.

An Evil Dart!
The realization set in instantly, and beads of sweat broke out on Brogan’s forehead. Brogan knew that he was in big trouble.

“Evil Dart” was the popular nickname for Explosive Visual Locator Dart (EVLD). Shaped somewhat like an old-style hypodermic syringe with a square visual reception plate just behind its needle point, it measured ten centimeters in length and two centimeters in diameter. It was propelled by a miniature hydrogen engine and equipped with a tiny null-grav unit so that it could change speed or direction quickly or simply hover. The EVLD, when used, was preprogrammed with the visual likeness of its objective
—not just the face but the physical proportions and dimensions of the whole body.

The specialty of the EVLD was the destruction of humans. It contained a minute but highly effective explosive that was detonated by the EVLD’s computer when its thermal sensors encountered a temperature in the human body heat range. First, the Evil Dart “made” its victim, which meant that it had to approach from the front since it had to make 95 percent certain of its target (an inherent weakness of the device). Then it propelled itself at its victim at high speed with the objective of burying its needle nose into warm flesh. The resulting explosion proved effective enough to be rated 100 percent.

In the same instant Brogan identified the object, he also noticed that the dart’s impact with his biopack had broken off its needle nose.
That will reduce its effectiveness some,
he hoped,
but not all that much. OK, Brogan. What’re you going to do now? Think!
Already he regretted not having worn his helmet, but no one wore helmets when they were not going outside.

Within a few seconds the EVLD had reoriented itself and turned to face Brogan. He could almost see his death reflected in the coldly ominous visual reception plate
—impersonal, calculating death.

That’s it!
Brogan whipped his cape up in front of his face so that the EVLD could not make a positive identification.

The Evil Dart hesitated. It moved to the right, then back to the left in an effort to see past the cape. Brogan knew he had to get to his laser gun, but he had only one functional hand, and it was holding his cape up. From what he knew about EVLDs, he would not have time to drop the cape and get to his holstered gun before he became the latest wall decoration.

How am I going to get a shot off at that gleaming, devilish thing?

The EVLD moved to within a meter and a half and began to circle its quarry. Brogan turned with it as he intermittently peeked around the edge of his cape to keep a fix on it. Fear prickled his scalp and made sweat drip into his eyes. The alternatives were not pleasant subjects of contemplation. He would either die or be seriously injured from the explosion. There would be no happy ending to this encounter.

Not my idea of a coffee break,
he thought wryly. Then it occurred to him that someone else might come down the corridor at any moment and unsuspectingly be caught in the blast with him.
I need to do something!

He finally decided that he was going to have to hold the cape against his forehead with his biopack while he unholstered his gun. That meant he would lose track of the EVLD, but it was the best plan he could come up with.

Slowly and smoothly he swung his biopack up and fixed the cape in place. Meanwhile, he continued to turn at the same rate of speed, hoping that the EVLD would not deviate from its course and speed. Then under cover of his cape, he slowly and carefully unholstered his laser gun. He raised the pistol behind his cape and fingered the trigger. The resulting thin, red targeting beam terminated for the present on the inside of the cape.

Brogan shifted his biopack a centimeter at a time, moving the cape slowly to the right so that he could peer around it. Surprisingly only about ninety seconds had passed since the Evil Dart’s attack, but Brogan knew he was running out of time. EVLDs were often programmed with a denotation time limit after its initial attack. There was no telling when this one would attack and explode despite not having obtained a positive identification.

Brogan blinked the sweat out of his eyes and looked past the edge of the cape.
No Dart!

Without wasting a second he stopped rotating right and began to move in the reverse direction.
There!
The tiny but monstrous device moved within view as it came past his shoulder. Brogan again reversed his motion and matched speeds with it.

It’s now or never, Brogan. God, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to live.

He pointed the beam past his cape and locked it on the cylinder. Then he took a slow, deep breath and fired. At the same time he launched himself backward down the corridor. The force of the resulting explosion slammed into him like a gigantic fist, knocking all the wind and awareness out of him. He landed on his back eleven meters down the hallway.

*

Brogan opened his eyes. He was hooked up to some monitors in a hospital room. One of them apparently notified hospital personnel that he had regained consciousness because a nurse strolled into the room within a minute.

“Good to see you awake, Colonel,” she said. “You had quite a ride.”

“Yeah,” he grunted out. “Feels like it.”

The nurse busied herself, making sure that he was comfortable. “Oh, you’ll be just fine in a couple of days. They say the lining of your cape saved you from the full force of the blast.”

Brogan put his hand to his aching head. He supposed he was grateful for that, but at the moment he was not so sure.

“At any rate, you fortunately don’t have any broken bones. But you sure will be sore for some time. Before too long, however, the pain medication will mostly take care of that. By the way, you have a visitor. I’ll tell him you’re awake.”

The nurse left, and Brogan’s eyes closed with a will of their own while he waited. The next thing he knew Manazes was next to his bed, pushing on his shoulder and calling his name. Brogan opened his eyes in annoyance.

“What’s a guy got to do to get some rest around here?” he croaked.

“Come on, Colonel. You’ve had enough sleep.” Manazes crossed his arms in annoyance. “You know, I’ve heard some pretty good excuses for goofing off, but you’ve come up with a doozy. Maybe I’ll go out and get myself blown up so I can get some R & R too.”

“You’re a real funny guy, Manazes,” Brogan joked groggily.

“Hey, somebody’s gotta supply the levity. But seriously, what happened out there, anyway?”

“Evil Dart.”

Manazes’ eyes widened, and he let out a whistle. “You got no business being here, Bronco. You oughta be laid out on a slab . . . what was left of you anyway. That’s one mean little devil.”

“Tell me about it!”

“An Evil Dart!” Manazes sat down and shook his head. “Somebody wants to punch your ticket big time. I guess this job is every bit as dangerous as Mizpala said it was.”

“Well, I knew this sort of thing could happen, but I didn’t expect them to bring out the big guns so soon. I guess I was meant to live a while longer.”

“This time,” amended Manazes. “But what about next time?”

“I’ll just have to take it one day at a time, Manazes. Death doesn’t hold much dread for me any longer. But I would like to do considerable more living before I get blown into eternity.”

*

Later General Calderon joined Brogan and Manazes, and the three of them talked about the attempted murder.

“You know as well as I do, Brogan,” the General said, “who’s behind this—the Moguls.”

Brogan nodded his head soberly. “But we can’t prove it. So what good’s knowing?”

“Knowing your enemy is an tactical advantage. For one thing, knowing it’s the Moguls makes certain that there’ll be another attempt.” Calderon looked Brogan in the eye fiercely. “Colonel, I don’t want you going anywhere without company . . . preferably lots of it.” Though Calderon had no jurisdiction over Brogan’s command, his loyalties lay with Mizpala, and he had a vested interest in Brogan’s success or failure.