Storm Force: Book Three of the Last Legion Series (13 page)

Monique’s strange feelings came regularly. Froude wondered, since it appeared there
were
some sort of invisible beings helping their pursuers, how the hell Redruth’s men were able to get them to cooperate.

“This could be an interesting field for an anthropology team to investigate,” he said.

Garvin couldn’t believe the man, who had to be twice Garvin’s age, could still sound enthusiastic, when all he wanted to do was curl up in a soft bed of leaves and sleep for a week.

• • •

“Well Mother Mary with a hangover,” Dill said, staring at the ruins that spread before them.

“What the hell kind of city is this?” Darod Montagna asked in a whisper.

“One people didn’t build,” Dill said.

That deduction didn’t require much logic. Those buildings that still sort of stood, or tilted crazily with trees growing over, through, between them, would have been three or more stories tall. The only entrances that could be made out would have been ten meters above the ground.

“Maybe they used ladders,” Nectan whispered. For some reason, having nothing to do with the Kurans behind them, it seemed right to whisper.

“Maybe this leads to something, somewhere we can duck for cover,” Garvin said hopefully. “I’ll take point. Monique slack.”

Weapons ready, they started forward, down what had been a very wide avenue.

Dill wondered how old the ruins were, guessed, since the jungle had completely overgrown the city, old. Very, very old. Behind him, Froude was trying to figure first what sort of beings built this city, and what the purpose of the various buildings, some nearly whole, others fallen rubble, had been.

There were wall carvings, but they gave no clue about the builders, being entirely abstract to the human eye.

Maybe those invisible suckers built this place
, Garvin thought.
Maybe they weren’t that invisible, a long, long time ago, or maybe they couldn’t fly, and when they learned, they walked off from their cities
.

Too wild, too wild, troop. Keep your eyes moving, looking for trouble
.

“Look,” Monique said, pointing down a cross street. Far away, almost a kilometer, Garvin saw the glint of water. He turned the team down the street.

The closer they got, the bigger the river got, maybe seventy-five meters across, the trees on its banks almost meeting in the center.

We can build a boat, or some kind of raft
, Garvin thought, and then he saw the grounded ACV, just as a chaingun chattered, blowing a stone column in half and sending the building it barely supported crashing.

They hadn’t quite walked into the ambush, but almost. They tumbled, rolled, ran for cover, weapons spraying.

Nectan saw a cluster of heads around a mortar tube, stayed in the open, and blew half a drum through them. He started to roll away, wasn’t quick enough, and the cannon caught him, chewed at his body, and spat it away.

Lir, flat, had the Zhukov’s turret in her sights. She held firm and fired at the open hatch. Rounds slammed against metal, ricocheted down into the body of the ACV. They heard a muffled explosion, screams, and a burning woman crawled out of the hatch, waving her arms.

Montagna sniped the woman in the heart, was almost shot down before she could find better cover.

Garvin fired, killed her attacker, and the three behind him.

Now the team had cover. Fire lulled for a moment. The Kurans, emboldened, started to move forward, and every man … or woman … who was in the open died.

A loudspeaker boomed: “Cumbrian soldiers! You are trapped! Surrender now, and our Protector will let you live! Surrender or die!”

The team held one end of a multisided square, the Kurans the far end, close to the water. Garvin saw another Zhukov nosing forward, behind the flaming ruin of the first, fired at it, saw his rounds spang off armor.

Over the battle sound came a louder roaring. Garvin looked up, saw one of the transports hovering forward.

“Eat me,” Ben Dill screamed, stood, his Shrike launcher aimed. He triggered the missile, and it shot off. A Kuran thought he had a target, just as Danfin Froude blocked Dill at the knees, dropping him as rounds rang off the stones around him.

The Shrike couldn’t miss a target that big, that close. The transport shuddered with the impact as the missile took it just behind the crew space. Nothing happened for an instant, then the transport rolled sideways, and its midsection gouted fire. The ship exploded, spraying fire and metal down across the ruins, over the water.

Garvin had a moment to hope the transport would give them a chance to break away, then two Zhukovs appeared on either side of the square, and a patrol craft dived down, missile tubes afire.

The ground roiled around them, and Garvin heard somebody scream.

“Break contact,” he found himself shouting. “In pairs! E&E! E&E!”

Other voices took up the command, and Garvin, guts clenching as he realized he’d utterly lost this battle and most likely his life, grabbed Montagna by the back of her combat harness.

“Come on! We’re gone!”

Montagna came to her knees, hurled a grenade, then was on her feet.

“After you,” and the two zigged away, into the ruins.

The Kurans fired on for a time, then realized they weren’t taking any return fire.

Now they’d have to hunt their prey down, two at a time.

• • •

Monique Lir and Jil Mahim moved stealthily down a narrow passageway, ducking under columns that leaned across the space, almost blocking it.

Lir darted across an open space, turned to cover the medic. Mahim came after her, and a pack strap caught on something. She was pulling at it when a grenade came from nowhere, and blew up. Mahim sagged.

Lir saw the man who’d thrown it, shot him just as two more grenades exploded. She had an instant to realize they were shock, not frag grenades, then the double blast sent her down, spinning into darkness.

• • •

The column of soldiers moved slowly down the street. A patrol ship orbited overhead.

Val Heckmyer was bandaging Deb Irthing’s side, where she’d caught some shrapnel. Irthing was barely conscious, biting her lip, trying to hold back a moan.

Someone shouted, and Heckmyer dropped the bandage, grabbed his SSW.

The enemy column — maybe forty men — had turned, and saw him. They started forward, assault firing.

You can’t kill them all if you don’t kill one
, Heckmyer reminded himself, and methodically started at the left, double-tapping the trigger of his SSW. Soldiers screamed, fell silently, grabbed at themselves, stumbled.

Something burned through Heckmyer’s chest, and he saw blood, then another bullet hit him, lower, and that was tearing agony. He dropped the gun, clutched at the pain, and three more bullets tore into him.

Deb Irthing grabbed the SSW as Heckmyer dropped, brought it up, and two bullets struck her in the head. She flipped back, spasmed, and died.

• • •

“Come on,” Garvin said. “We’ll make the river, then swim downstream, go ashore in a while.”

“Sounds good, boss,” Montagna said, trying to smile, trying to appear as brave as she thought Jaansma was.

They came to the end of the street, moved up an alley, saw water in front of them.

“ ‘Kay,” Garvin said, trying to sound calm, wishing he was as unworried as Montagna, strangely thought she was as beautiful a woman, here, now, as he’d ever seen. “I hope you enjoy swimming.”

“I’m an eel, boss.”

They slung their weapons, moved into the open, to what might’ve been a dock. Garvin looked at the water, thought it looked deep, dark, fast-flowing, sucked deep breaths, packing his lungs with oxygen.

The Zhukov lifted out of the brush to their side. Its command cupola hatch was open, and two chainguns were aimed at them.

A speaker crackled.

“Do not move. Do not even breathe unless you want to be very dead.”

Protector Redruth’s smile was terrible.

“We have the raiders. All of them. Dead or captured, and those that’re still alive won’t be for long. Cumbre’s learned a hard lesson this day.”

“What form of execution have you decided on?” Celidon asked as calmly as if they were discussing the weather on the planet below.

“I’m not sure,” Redruth said. He looked around the ship’s bridge, thinking. Then he turned to Njangu.

“I suppose you’re not pleased you weren’t able to be in at the kill, Yohns. Give you a bit of revenge for your own chase from pillar to post.”

“I’m not a soldier,” Njangu said. “I get just as much pleasure from seeing another do what’s necessary as doing it myself.”

Celidon curled a lip. “Who was it who said a spy’s nothing more than a bureaucrat with ambitions?”

“No doubt some bureaucrat. Or admiral,” Njangu said.

“Enough of that, both of you,” Redruth said. “I have two questions, Yohns. What is the worst Cumbrian form of execution?”

“They have only one, no, two,” Njangu said. “Public hanging for civilians, a firing squad for soldiers.”

“Neither especially spectacular,” Redruth mused. “Unless it happens there are terrible shots or the drunken hangman miscalculates the drop and either pulls his victim’s head off or lets him strangle slowly. Not enough for my tastes. Does either of you … or any of you other staffers … have any ideas?”

Njangu, wondering if Garvin was one of the raiders and, if so, whether he was still alive, considered how to make a suggestion without bringing suspicion.

Celidon saved him.

“I don’t know about how to kill them, nor especially care,” he said. “I’m sure
someone
can come up with
something
to meet your desires, Protector. But I think simply executing them isn’t gaining full use of these bandits.”

“Continue,
Leiter
Efficiency,” said Redruth, evidently a little angry at the implication he was a sadist.

“I think a show trial would be of interest to our citizenry,” Celidon went on. “It would give us a chance to expose completely the villainy of the Cumbrians, to verify what our propaganda experts have been accusing them of for so long.”

“It would also,” Redruth interrupted, “give us a chance to discover what allies they have, both down there on Four, and elsewhere in the Kura system.

“And,” he said, becoming more excited, “also to implicate the allies they must have in the Larix system. For no sensible being can doubt there must’ve been others on the capital worlds waiting for the chance to begin their own terrorist campaigns.”

“That seems very logical to me,” an aide said. “Again, you’ve cut to the heart of the matter, Protector.”

No one paid the claque the slightest attention.

“Yes,” Redruth said. “A nice proper interrogation, and they’ll certainly be ready to make full confessions that confirm my worst fears about traitors in our midst.”

“Not to mention,” Celidon said dryly, “that certainly gives us reason enough to declare war, in the event we ever have to justify ourselves to … outsiders.”

“You mean if the Confederation ever returns?” Redruth snickered. “I doubt if that’ll happen in your lifetime, nor in that of any of your descendants. But it
is
well always to have a spare arrow in your quiver, isn’t it?

“Yohns, I’m going to detach you from the duties I assigned and make you part of the interrogation team. You’ll be able to word questions in familiar ways to these terrorists, keep them from lying, and when they begin talking, to make sure the wording of their free confessions is appropriate, both for our citizens and for dissemination back to Cumbre.”

“You honor me, Protector,” Njangu said, half-bowing.

• • •

The room stank. It was nothing more than a windowless concrete cube, with a sealed air conditioner and two monitors on the ceiling, one barred double door at the end, and four mattresses on the floor. The four prisoners had been stripped, thoroughly searched, and every hideout device found. They were then given gray coveralls with a black cross on the back that looked suspiciously like an aiming point.

Twice a day, the door opened, and ration paks and water were tossed in by empty-faced guards, and every now and then some hardly sterile dressings for the wounded. No other medical supplies had been given out, and requests for a doctor and proper treatment for Lir and Mahim were ignored.

Mahim tossed, feverish, barely conscious. Monique, ignoring her own superficial wounds, carefully unwrapped the dressings on Mahim’s leg. Garvin knelt beside her, looked at the puffy, swollen limb.

Lir wrinkled her nose, and Garvin smelled the sweetness as well. Gangrene was developing. Either Jil Mahim got treatment quickly, or she would lose her leg. Or else die.

Mahim opened her eyes.

“Hot,” she said with difficulty.

“They don’t seem to have any controls on the environment settings around here,” Garvin said.

“How am I?”

“Doing about as well as expected,” Lir said. “Recovering nicely.”

“
Giptel
shit,” Mahim said. “Remember, I’ve got the medical training.” She winced as pain hit her. “And I’ve still got a nose.”

“We’re still trying to get a doctor in,” Garvin said.

Montagna got up, went to the cell door, shouted.

A muffled voice beyond the doors told her to shut up.

“Nice folks,” Mahim said. “If we had them in our claws, we’d at least let them die healthy, wouldn’t we?”

Garvin tried a reassuring smile, found it didn’t fit well.

“Away from the doors,” someone shouted. Obediently Montagna moved back. Jaansma got to his feet, wondering if finally somebody was going to tell them what was going on. Since capture, none of their warders had said anything other than to get away from the door, and shut up.

The outer door banged open, and a key buzzed in the second’s lock. It opened, and Njangu Yoshitaro walked in.

Garvin and Lir recovered most quickly. They knew where Njangu had disappeared to. But the other soldiers hadn’t a need to know, so were told nothing. Montagna gaped, and Mahim came up to a sitting position.

“Boss,” she managed, before Lir jabbed her swollen leg, and she half screamed in agony, fell back, just as she realized Yoshitaro was wearing a dark brown uniform, hardly that of the Confederation.

Behind him were three gun guards, one a rather striking woman, and a small, balding man who looked like a university don.

“I am Ab Yohns,” Njangu said. “
Leiter
Ab Yohns. Protector Redruth has appointed me to oversee your interrogation and the preparation for your trial as war criminals as well.”

“We committed no crimes,” Garvin said. “And we were in proper uniform before your goons stripped and looted us.”

“No crimes?” the scholarly man said in some astonishment. “Murder, mass murder, attempted murder, destruction of state property, attacking government personnel, attempting to bring about revolution, conspiracy against a legal government, theft, possession of illegal devices, and … the list goes on and on.

“Remember, no state of war exists between Cumbre and Larix/Kura. You are no more than the commonest of criminals. You shall be questioned until you decide it is wiser to give up the names of your accomplices here in the Kura system, and the conspirators in the Larix system as well.

“Then you, and the others, shall be brought to trial and convicted. This trial shall be ‘cast throughout Larix and Kura, for the education of those who aren’t fully convinced of the evils of Cumbre, and probable eventual dissemination to your homeworlds as well, to discourage other banditry.”

“This gentleman,” Yoshitaro said, “is your chief interrogator, Dr. Petteu Miuss. He has degrees in medicine, surgery, pharmacology, and psychology. You
will
confess, needless to say. We are prepared to use any means necessary, physical and chemical, to reach this end.

“My role is simple: I spent many years on D-Cumbre, and am most familiar with your military and society. So you needn’t bother lying to me, Dr. Miuss, or his underlings. Such antisocial behavior will be severely punished.”

“What made you turn traitor, Yohns?” Garvin snarled, trying to sound outraged.

“I am hardly a traitor,” Njangu said. “In the Cumbre System, I remained a citizen of the Confederation, then renounced it and was granted citizenship on Larix/Kura.

“I would suggest that your time might be better spent not accusing me of falsehoods, but considering your own crimes. The greater your cooperation, the better you will be treated.”

“Like this?” Garvin waved around the bare room.

“This is merely a holding cell,” Njangu said. “You are to be transferred immediately to Protector Redruth’s flagship. You will be given complete medical examinations and whatever treatment is necessary, and issued standard military rations — unless your behavior warrants otherwise.”

Njangu glared at the four.

“By the time of the trial, we don’t want any of our citizens to make the mistake of thinking you deserve pity because of your physical appearance.

“That is all I have to say. Dr. Miuss?”

The scholar considered each soldier carefully. He bent over Mahim, looked at her leg, tsked in seeming sympathy. Mahim stared coldly back.

“This shall be an interesting period,” he said. “Four disturbed ones who’ve participated in the same aberrational crimes. My examination shall be interesting, very interesting.

“I truly look forward to knowing each of you better.” He smiled pleasantly, went back to Njangu’s side.

Njangu turned to the woman. “Commander Stiofan, if you’ll have a detail of our security troops reinforce the normal guards during the transfer?”

“Yes,
Leiter
.”

“You two,” Njangu told Alpha and Beta, “make sure there are no mistakes in the transfer.”

“Yessir,” one said.

Njangu eyed the prisoners.

“Rogues,” he said softly. “Definitely rogues, perverts, and psychopaths, all of you.”

Garvin almost started laughing, and noticed Njangu had to turn away quickly.

• • •

Njangu stopped washing Maev’s back, let the ‘fresher’s water roar down on them.

“Why’d you stop?”

“Because I wanted to talk, and this is the safest place on this goddamned ship I could think of. I can’t see any bugs, and the water noise should drown out that one in the ‘fresher light.”

“
Now
you tell me, after you get my hopes up.”

“I didn’t say I was going to stop for good. Now, here’s the plan.”

“Nj … I mean, Ab, don’t think I’m a complete clotpole,” Maev interrupted. “I caught what that poor woman with the rotten leg almost let go. Not that I think Miuss, that bloodless corpse understood, if he even heard, since I know your secret and he doesn’t. You’re pissed off, because you’re going to blow your carefully contrived cover and do a manly rescue of your friends.

“On the other hand, I’m happy as a maniac with a new ax, because I can finally quit walking on eggs and get the hell out of this nightmare. See how confident I am in your capabilities?”

“You’re too bright for me,” Njangu allowed.

“Of course,” Maev said comfortably. “Now, do you want to tell me how we’re going to pull off this great prison break from the heart of Larix Prime?”

“Uh … I haven’t quite figured out all the details,” Njangu confessed. “But I think it’s gonna involve a lot of explosions and bodies. As many as I can manage.”

“But no details.”

“Not quite yet.”

“I wouldn’t dare suggest that all you’ve got is an idea, and zed-squelch in the way of an actual plan.”

“I’m glad you’re so respectful of my innate capabilities,” Njangu said.

“Especially at back washing. You can go back to that anytime you want.”

• • •

The next morning he woke Maev by moving his tongue in and around her ear. She yawned, reached for him.

“Last night you inspired me,” he whispered.

“I should hope so,” Maev said, conscious of the bug Njangu’d found in a particularly revolting piece of military art above the bed.

He mouthed: I have a plan.

“Mmmh. That sounds good,” she said. “Nice, subtle, and orgasmic?”

He came very close to her ear, whispered: “No. Stupid, obvious, and bloody. But I think it’ll work. And the first thing we need is a good gossip.”