At Empire's Edge (36 page)

Finally, as ready as he could be, and surrounded by heavily armed bodyguards, Usurlus departed his quarters. Fiss Verafti, in his role as Vedius Albus, led the way.

 

 

The sun was halfway to its zenith, thousands of people were seated in the coliseum, and hundreds more arrived every minute. At exactly 10:30, Nalomy was scheduled to introduce Usurlus who, assuming that Lucia was correct, would publicly bring charges of corruption against the Procurator. Unless Verafti shot Usurlus first . . . which would almost certainly take place unless Cato found a way to prevent it.

The crowd roared as Nalomy, Usurlus, and various bodyguards stepped out onto the gaily decorated platform. But the roar had an ominous quality, and judging from the tenor of it, the crowd noise was born of anger rather than joy, as many of Dantha’s citizens took the opportunity to make their feelings known. But thanks to both the volume of the response, and the fact that everyone was staring at the VIP platform, Cato had the opportunity he’d been waiting for.

The projection booth was closed and had been ever since Pasayo had entered the enclosure an hour earlier. And it seemed safe to assume that the door was locked from within. Fortunately, Cato had a key in the form of his right foot! It hit the thin sheet metal right below the handle, the door flew open, and there was a loud
bang
as it struck a wall. No sound was audible over the crowd noise.

Pasayo was seated at the table, peering into the FARO’s 10X scope, when Cato exploded into the booth. The sudden movement caught Pasayo by surprise, and he had just started to turn around, when the door slammed shut, thereby cutting off any hope of reinforcements. “Hold it right there,” Cato said grimly, as he aimed his pistol at Pasayo’s head. “Or would you like me to splatter your brains all over the wall?”

It took a moment to see past the uniform, but the voice was familiar, and Pasayo made the connection. “Cato! Well I’ll be damned. . . . You
can
accomplish something when you put your mind to it!”

Nalomy was speaking by then, and while Cato couldn’t make out the exact words, he knew that precious seconds were ticking away. “Tell me what Verafti looks like,” he grated, “and tell me
now
.”

Pasayo’s eyes narrowed. Somehow, by means unknown, Cato knew about the assassination. And if Cato was allowed to interfere, Usurlus might survive, thereby ending Nalomy’s political career, and Pasayo’s plan to become a general. All of that flashed through Pasayo’s mind in less than a second and resulted in a fierce determination to kill Cato quickly so there would still be enough time to fire the critical shot.

Cato “sensed” what was about to happen a moment before Pasayo rolled sideways. So Cato was already readjusting his aim, and could have killed Pasayo, but he chose not to. He needed to keep Pasayo alive long enough to find out what Verafti looked like. But there was no reason not to kick the sonofabitch, which Cato attempted to do, only to have Pasayo grab his foot and twist it.

Then it was Cato’s turn to fall. His arm hit the floor, the gun skittered away, and as Pasayo lurched to his feet, he fumbled for his handgun. But it was held in place by a retaining strap, and by the time Pasayo thumbed it off, Cato had drawn the ceremonial dagger that all Section Leaders carry as part of their dress uniforms. Having rolled to his knees, he brought the double-edged weapon up under his opponent’s unprotected rib cage, and felt the eight-inch blade go deep. The sliver of steel missed Pasayo’s heart but found a lung, and cut an artery. The dagger remained there for a full second—until Cato jerked it out.

Pasayo’s face registered an expression of profound surprise, his hand fell away from the gun, and he toppled over backward. Cato scrambled forward to kneel next to the wounded officer. Pasayo’s eyes were still open; he was gasping for breath, and jerking spasmodically. “Tell me,” Cato demanded harshly. “Tell me what Verafti looks like.”

Pink bubbles appeared on Pasayo’s lips. He was dying and knew it. A sly smile appeared on his face. There was even more blood by then, and the officer was gargling as he spoke. “Alamy,” Pasayo said, as Cato’s face floated above him. “I gave her to Hingo!”

The knife flashed downward, penetrated Pasayo’s right eye, and entered his brain. The force of the blow caused Pasayo’s skull to bounce off the duracrete floor, and that produced an audible
thud
. Cato attempted to pull the blade free, discovered that it was stuck, and left the dagger where it was. His pistol was two feet away, which made it necessary to crawl over and retrieve it.

Because Cato was an empath he could “taste” the bitter residue of his own hatred as he lurched to his feet. Then, feeling slightly sick to his stomach, he stumbled to the table and bent over to peer through the hole. Nalomy was speaking, and thanks to the PA system, her words could be heard throughout the coliseum. “And now,” she said, “in memory of those who have given their lives for the Empire, please welcome the cavalcade of flags!”

There was a momentary blare of trumpets, followed by an upwelling of martial music as two columns of mounted militiamen cantered into the arena on nearly identical angens, each carrying a rectangle of brightly colored cloth representing one of the Empire’s Legions, a planetary militia, or one of the many auxiliary units. There was scattered applause, but not much, since Dantha’s militiamen were generally viewed as oppressors rather than defenders.

But since Cato needed every second he could get, he welcomed the ceremony as an opportunity to scan the VIP platform and try to figure out which of the dozen or so people standing around Usurlus was really an alien shape shifter. Then he realized that he could look
through
the 10X scope instead and sat down in an empty chair. The moment that Cato put his eye to the scope he discovered something interesting. The crosshairs were centered on one of the Legate’s bodyguards! A well-turned-out individual who was located immediately to the official’s left, where he was in an excellent position to either protect Usurlus or shoot him!

But was that who Pasayo had been planning to kill? Yes, based on the way the FARO was locked down, which meant that Cato knew whom to go after! More than that, he had a rifle that was clearly capable of putting Verafti down for good. So it was tempting to release the FARO’s safety, snuggle up to the skeletal stock, and take the shot Pasayo had set up for him.

The problem was that Cato couldn’t be absolutely sure that the man standing at the center of the crosshairs was Verafti without getting close enough to verify the shape shifter’s emotional “fingerprint.” So Cato rose, made his way over to the door, and slipped outside. The latch was broken, so all he could do was pull the door closed, and hope for the best.

Cato was faced with a choice. He could run down, jump off the wall, and make a mad dash for the other side of the arena. Or he could follow the edge of the coliseum around to a point above the VIP platform.

After looking at the angens continuing to circle the arena below, and the militiamen who were riding them, Cato turned and began to run. Three walkways circled the coliseum, and Cato was on the second level, which was crowded with late arrivals, people purchasing food from vendors, and those lined up to use the restrooms.

As he ran along Cato yelled things like, “Coming through! Stand aside!” and “Get out of the way!” Most people scuttled out of the way, but one man was too slow, and went sprawling as Cato shouldered him aside. There were guards of course,
lots
of them, but because the man causing the disturbance was in uniform, they made no effort to intervene.

While Cato ran, he took occasional glances to the right, where the last of the mounted militia could be seen leaving the arena, their gaily colored flags snapping in the breeze. That was Nalomy’s cue to introduce her guest. “Now, on behalf of the citizens of Dantha, it is my privilege and honor to introduce His Excellency, Legate Isulu Usurlus!”

There was enthusiastic applause this time, both because Emperor Emor remained popular in spite of Nalomy’s failings, and because Usurlus was the only person that the planet’s dissatisfied citizens could look to for relief.

Adding to the strength of the applause was the fact that resistance leaders like Lucia Ovidius had gone to great lengths to pack the coliseum with their followers. All of them were eager to embarrass Nalomy by giving the Legate the sort of reception denied her.

All of that was lost on Cato as he bellowed, “Clear the way!” and sent a flock of schoolchildren scattering in every direction as he arrived on the south side of the coliseum and ran toward a point directly above the VIP platform. Meanwhile, with the applause fading, Usurlus began his speech.

 

 

Usurlus had given lots of speeches, hundreds, maybe even a thousand of them. But never had he delivered one that was so important, incendiary, and dangerous. As he stood on the platform, and looked out at thousands of faces, everything was crystal clear. The warmth of the sun on his face, the rich smell of fried food that hung in the air, and the sound of blood pounding in his ears. Usurlus was afraid that he would fail, afraid that he would succeed, and afraid of being afraid. Fortunately, the much-practiced words were ready and waiting. “Thank you,” Usurlus said, “both on behalf of myself and Emperor Emor. . . .”

 

 

Nalomy began to edge her way to the right-hand side of the platform. Verafti was standing to Usurlus’s left, which meant he would fire to the right, and what if he missed? Nalomy had no desire to be killed by a stray bullet or have all of her clothes ruined if the projectile flew true and sent a bloody spray in her direction.

Then there was the matter of what was going to happen to Verafti in the wake of Usurlus’s death. When Pasayo fired, the tungsten dart would probably blow the shape shifter into a thousand pieces. That gave Nalomy even more reason to move sideways. Fortunately, the whole thing would be over soon. Should she accompany the Legate’s body to Corin? Yes, Nalomy decided. That would not only be a nice touch—but provide her with an opportunity to put herself forward as the dead man’s logical successor! A smile touched Nalomy’s lips as she waited for the people around her to die.

 

 

Cato!
Verafti could “feel” the Xeno cop’s presence. But where was he? Verafti felt a sudden surge of fear. He was supposed to fire
now
, before Usurlus had time to say anything of consequence, but was reluctant to do so unless he knew where Cato was. And there were other dangers to consider, too, including the possibility that Nalomy had assigned someone to shoot him as Usurlus fell, thereby ridding herself of a witness. Slowly, so as not to draw attention to what he was doing, Verafti freed the strap that held his pistol in place and began to turn. Cato was behind him. . . . But where?

Usurlus had completed the formalities by then and was ready to deliver the most important part of his speech. “As we come together today,” he said soberly, “it is on a planet where the rights of individual citizens have been systematically trampled, and where the institutions normally charged with protecting those rights are riddled with corruption. Unfortunately, the rot I speak of begins at the very topmost level of the planetary government and extends downward through the bureaucracy and into the militia.”

There was a moment in which reality seemed to slow, as the citizens of Dantha sat in stunned silence and struggled to assimilate what they had heard. Then, as the full import of the words came clear to them, there was a sudden roar of approval as thousands of people surged to their feet and began to chant.
“Usurlus! Usurlus! Usurlus!”

 

 

Nalomy’s normally beautiful face was contorted by anger as she turned to look at Verafti. But, rather than shoot Usurlus the way he was supposed to, Verafti stood weapon in hand, staring up into the stands. Having seen the man they knew as Albus draw his pistol, the rest of the bodyguards had turned, and were looking in that direction as well. Usurlus, who was oblivious to the byplay, was waiting for the applause to die down so he could continue his speech. But another voice was heard instead.

 

 

Cato was standing in a position ten rows above the platform. That was as close as the off-world bodyguards would let him get without a special pass. “Legate Usurlus!” he shouted. “The man to your left is an assassin!”

The applause had started to fade by then, so Usurlus heard the shout and turned toward Albus. That was when he saw his chief bodyguard fire into the stands. But Cato was a good fifty feet away, Verafti had very little experience with firearms, and missed. A merchant seated next to Cato uttered a grunt of pain as the bullet hit him in the shoulder, and his neatly draped toga began to turn red.

Having missed Cato, Verafti turned to his left, hoping to kill Usurlus. And, thanks to the fact that the surrounding bodyguards were confused, there was a reasonable chance of success.

Cato raised his weapon and fired. The projectile hit Verafti’s body armor but didn’t penetrate. Still, it was sufficient to ruin Verafti’s aim, so that when he fired, the bullet missed Usurlus by a full inch.

That was enough for Livius, who threw himself on top of Usurlus, as Verafti took on the appearance of Centurion Pasayo and began to shout nonsensical orders. A few moments later Verafti assumed another form, and
another
, until the crowd closed around him.

Meanwhile, on orders from resistance leaders salted throughout the coliseum, thousands of people left their seats and began to surge through the aisles. Shots were fired as frightened guards attempted to hold the crowd back, but the militiamen were overwhelmed, and it wasn’t long before resistance fighters were carrying their rifles.

 

 

Nalomy felt a sudden spike of fear as she waited for Pasayo to kill both Livius
and
Usurlus. Then, when it became obvious that the backup plan wasn’t going to work, and people started to chant her name, she jumped into the arena and began to run. But that was a mistake, as Nalomy learned when she tripped, fell, and got up again. The citizens of Dantha were pouring into the arena from every possible direction. And they were angry,
very
angry, as a hungry howl went up, and hundreds of people converged on the spot where Nalomy stood frozen. “No!” she said, as the first hand reached out to touch her smooth skin. “How dare you?”